This cubicle, oh so isolated. Changing history... the things people have done... my alterations could become facts, even when false. Oh Big Brother, I could change your past. All of history, in my hands, were to become scrape clean. Delete, Change, Burn, or Destroy the hard work of history. The flaws of slips, errors, misprints, misquotations, must be put to right for the "truth". How I loathe the truth. Who is this Tillotson? The Records Department... more like the silence department. No social atmosphere. Deleting people who have become 'vaporized', disappearing out of thin air... what is this? Never spoken again... how haunting this seems. People of disagreement of The Party became vaporized... killed? moved? what? Being able to change everything to anything you wanted, to keep the company happy, enjoyment is all I feel, although very tedious. I sit here and smoke my cigarette...
No comments:
Post a Comment