Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > We'll wake the Thought Police
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing sounds the unenthusiastic bell that signals lunch period. Everyone slowly stands up, their bland faces showing their currently empty mids going about their usual business-doing nothing. Lifelessly, all the zombies, Frank and I file out of the white factory door to the white pristine lunchroom. We all take a carton of milk and 3 pills in a white paper cup. We have 15 minutes to eat, and use the restroom, even socialize minimally. Too much talk draws attention.
The zombies mindlessly sit down, shuffle around and exchange meaningless words. I sit down at a sterile white table with Frank, off in a corner.
"You don't take The Drug?" Frank asks quietly.
"Of course I do. Everyone does." I say. He looks confused for a moment, but then goes back to his custom blank zombie expression.
"Then why aren't you...so dead?" He asks slowly.
"I'm immune." I say equally slow.
"Really? Is that possible?" He asks quickly. I give him evil eyes for slipping up, then revert my face my bland usual zombie-face.
"Yes. What about you?" I ask slowly.
"I...came from the other side of this, I suppose. The side that gets all of these supplies." He says...He's an outsider.
"Why would you come here?" I ask.
"To investigate for the police." He says, and my eyes widen as I quickly dart my eyes across the cafeteria.
""We have police here, too." I say quietly.
"Do you?" He asks.
"Yes. The Thought Police. Theymake thoughts limited, if not non-existant. They developed The Drug, and they erase the files." " I explain.
"Erase files?" He asks.
I nod, slowly. "A file here is what proves your existence. No file, no life. Having your file removed is basically an execution order, and it doesn't take a whole lot to get your file erased. Last year a woman's file was erased because she screamed when a machine pulled all her hair out quite violently. They said she was 'disturbing the peace'." I explain.
"That's awful." Frank says. I shrug slowly.
"You learn to live half a life."
"That's awful."
I shrug again. "How do you go without being administered The Drug?" I ask him.
"Some of the doctors work with the police force. They just have to pretend to give it to me." He explains to me, his face devoid of any emotion. "Maybe they give it to someone else."
"If they gave it to someone else there would be more ODs." I say.
"ODs?" He asks.
"Yup. You can only handle so much of The Drug, it's not perfect yet. People have too much in their system and they can't handle it. They die." I shrug. My brother over dosed two years ago.
"That's awful" Frank says.
I shrug. "Shit happens."
"But still..."
"Do you think you could get me out of here?" I ask abruptly.
"That's why I'm here. To get you out." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yeah...but why did you come here? You have the doctor's accounts, right?" I ask.
"Oh. I came here to see what it's like to live here, if it's as awful as it seems." He explains. Ah.
"It's only awful if you're like me, having to hide everything about yourself. Never ask questions, rule number 9." I say.
"What's rule number 10?" Frank asks.
"Never complain."
"What are the other rules?" He asks.
"All in due time." I say as the Riiiiiiiiiiiiiing signaling the end of lunch goes off.
We file back into the boring white factory, going back to our lifeless jobs as zombies, not looking forward to it in the least.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hee hee how was it? I personally really like this story. Maybe it isn't good now, but c'mon and at least TELL me if it's that bad. YOu know what? I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. My mum got a rental car, and I couldn't hook my iPod up to it. Do you know what I said to her? 'You just ruined my childhood.' Yes. I did. I did it with a straight face and everything. oh, this WILL eventually be a Frerard (I think), so stay tuned! (God I sound like a sailor moon commercial.) Anyway, yeah. Please R&R, muther fuckers or I will rip off your face, pickle it and feed it to my dog. (I'm running out of threats O.o)
The zombies mindlessly sit down, shuffle around and exchange meaningless words. I sit down at a sterile white table with Frank, off in a corner.
"You don't take The Drug?" Frank asks quietly.
"Of course I do. Everyone does." I say. He looks confused for a moment, but then goes back to his custom blank zombie expression.
"Then why aren't you...so dead?" He asks slowly.
"I'm immune." I say equally slow.
"Really? Is that possible?" He asks quickly. I give him evil eyes for slipping up, then revert my face my bland usual zombie-face.
"Yes. What about you?" I ask slowly.
"I...came from the other side of this, I suppose. The side that gets all of these supplies." He says...He's an outsider.
"Why would you come here?" I ask.
"To investigate for the police." He says, and my eyes widen as I quickly dart my eyes across the cafeteria.
""We have police here, too." I say quietly.
"Do you?" He asks.
"Yes. The Thought Police. Theymake thoughts limited, if not non-existant. They developed The Drug, and they erase the files." " I explain.
"Erase files?" He asks.
I nod, slowly. "A file here is what proves your existence. No file, no life. Having your file removed is basically an execution order, and it doesn't take a whole lot to get your file erased. Last year a woman's file was erased because she screamed when a machine pulled all her hair out quite violently. They said she was 'disturbing the peace'." I explain.
"That's awful." Frank says. I shrug slowly.
"You learn to live half a life."
"That's awful."
I shrug again. "How do you go without being administered The Drug?" I ask him.
"Some of the doctors work with the police force. They just have to pretend to give it to me." He explains to me, his face devoid of any emotion. "Maybe they give it to someone else."
"If they gave it to someone else there would be more ODs." I say.
"ODs?" He asks.
"Yup. You can only handle so much of The Drug, it's not perfect yet. People have too much in their system and they can't handle it. They die." I shrug. My brother over dosed two years ago.
"That's awful" Frank says.
I shrug. "Shit happens."
"But still..."
"Do you think you could get me out of here?" I ask abruptly.
"That's why I'm here. To get you out." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yeah...but why did you come here? You have the doctor's accounts, right?" I ask.
"Oh. I came here to see what it's like to live here, if it's as awful as it seems." He explains. Ah.
"It's only awful if you're like me, having to hide everything about yourself. Never ask questions, rule number 9." I say.
"What's rule number 10?" Frank asks.
"Never complain."
"What are the other rules?" He asks.
"All in due time." I say as the Riiiiiiiiiiiiiing signaling the end of lunch goes off.
We file back into the boring white factory, going back to our lifeless jobs as zombies, not looking forward to it in the least.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Hee hee how was it? I personally really like this story. Maybe it isn't good now, but c'mon and at least TELL me if it's that bad. YOu know what? I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts. My mum got a rental car, and I couldn't hook my iPod up to it. Do you know what I said to her? 'You just ruined my childhood.' Yes. I did. I did it with a straight face and everything. oh, this WILL eventually be a Frerard (I think), so stay tuned! (God I sound like a sailor moon commercial.) Anyway, yeah. Please R&R, muther fuckers or I will rip off your face, pickle it and feed it to my dog. (I'm running out of threats O.o)
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