The Infection
“Forever a slave, or burn in a grave!”
These words kept repeating in my head.
It cared for me and gave me warmth. Well, that’s what it made me think. It was like a drug, giving me outer joy while slowly killing me. Come to think of it, it was the other way around, it made me a slave, but on the inside I loved it. Everyone seemed to be infected with it too; most were blind and unaware of its mind control.
It had been with us ever since the rise of man, creating a craving like no other and forcing many to care less and less about anything else but themselves and the work. It corrupted the system and treated the infected like prisoners, giving them no choice but to do mindless work and sit in a cell. This became a routine for many but some of my friends and I were lucky enough to think.
We thought of it like the matrix, where only the select few could actually see the infection. In turn a single thought became our game changer. The idea of freedom. It had come to mind to one of my co-laborers while slaving away with mindless chores. Like inception, the idea and the ability to think started to spread. We were no longer happy in the darkness and misery and were able to grasp a slight feeling of freedom. Light started to shine upon the doors of opportunity, we could finally see through the pitch black. Only some hundreds of us could truly see this and less than half felt the need to leave it. This thought outbreak angered the infection and cause it to use all its force to keep everyone corrupted and make them love the horrible lives they lived.
Getting out of this reality was similar to going through a maze, increasing complexity. When the system became corrupt it shaped itself so that it would mentally devastate its slaves that took any attempt to escape from it. As a result we faced physical attacks from people that we used to know; to them we were just some sort of bounty or golden ticket. When someone was captured, they were mentally tortured until insanity. They were then injected with the lifeless disease that chained and enslaved them in the first place. At this moment I noticed the lifeless faces of the infected were filled with ignorance, it was because of this ignorance that they loved the life of a slave. Possibly the cure could have been information about the other side, but no one knew or wanted to test the theory.
Nearing the end, or what we thought it was, came the time when groups of us escapees started to form and turn against each other. Half had the energy to go on, while the others felt nearly hopeless. As they became more and more weak the infected started to catch up, their faces similar to flesh hungry undead.
Weak, unmotivated, depressed, run down, tired, hopeless, scared. We were close to reaching freedom but because of the fact that no one had a full understanding of what freedom was, the helpless group started to feel that going back would be best for everyone. They started to feel the addiction of the infection kick in, the false love they felt before was invading their minds. Like a werewolf in a cold full moon night, their hearts started to darken. I could feel the infection come close and felt it change them; it looked at me and started whispering in my ear,
“Forever a slave, or burn in a grave…”
It never seemed to stop. I started to feel a pain that was too strong to bear; the headache it gave me was worse than the strongest migraine out there, the strong pump in my head felt like it was about to cave in and implode. There was no control of any part of my body; I was struggling as if I was pinned down by someone the size of a sumo wrestler. The only hope I had was help from my friends in the group with me, but I felt that all that hope was lost as I started to black out.
Unable to recall what happened when I opened my eyes, everything was so bright. I saw a new world, one where decisions were free to be made, creativity to sprout brilliant new creations, other beautiful life, and nearly everything else in a utopia. Even though the sensation of being free was beyond anything I had ever felt, the darkness was still a part of me. I would always remember it and feel the momentary joy that it forced into me.
I pondered one new idea that came to my mind,
“Freedom from actuality, preserve reality.”
It started to grow within me, and is still part of me.
The dark reality was corrupt and broken beyond repair, but needed to exist for freedom to exist. The infection became more of a mindset that created the inability to move and take action, it was reality. It is reality.