The Shadow of Chernobyl

Big Sister Is Watching You

The television is a wonderful invention. Back in the Forties, even the Thirties, it was the closest thing to magic at the time. To have a big box in your living room show another whole world at the click of a button was exhilarating. All kinds of entertainment at the palm of your hand, whenever, for whoever! The cartoons in the middle of day for children returning from school, the early morning news for adults that wanted to catch up on the freshest event right before work, the evening movies for the families and the explicit content for the risky at midnight. The television was and will always be an inseparable part of modernity, even if it's not in its original form. Like the wheel, some things are eternal.

What isn't; is order. Chaos is etched into our nature, but we strive for peace, for harmony, for what's right. The path is treacherous and unpredictable, but nothing is impossible! There is a light that never goes out, there has to be, if not, why be?

I ask myself that question every day.

The constant static that had lulled me into a vegetative state gradually ceased, a soft jingle played to alert me to the intro of the next program. The Playroom had received a few upgrades over the past week or so due to the influx of inmates, ones of mostly Asian origin. Although where I sat might look akin to the Playroom at first glance, it was anything but that. There was a camera next to the television on the left, staring right at me, unblinking. There was no red glow or anything of the sort since it'd distract me from what's important, they said. The room itself was just that; a room, a proper one. Some species were too big to fit inside, so the guards stationed outside were of a smaller caliber; a blue jay and a raccoon.

Damn it. My thoughts were so... unorganized. I couldn't cement any memory or conviction except what the television showed me.

How did it get to this? I was good! I was! After the incident with that stupid owl, I took whatever medication they prescribed me. And they didn't touch me! Nothing! I was a good boy, their word, not mine, that would be... weird.

So, what reason did they have to take me out of my routine this particular morning? Was there a holiday I didn't know about? "Abuse the Slav" day? The Romans were dead, what the fuck did I do?! Could the anthros re-establish the Holy Roman Empire? Christ, that would be horrible, bless the poor Italians. After what I heard of Rome, I wouldn't blame them for whatever they did in retribution.

I showed no red flags after that less than pleasant meeting. Sure, I kept to myself and refused to socialize more than the required minimum which was against their wishes, but that was insignificant in the big picture. The only one I did connect to was the veteran cook, but I haven't seen him for a while. The last time we met was in the cafeteria, and he said that one of the guards in the kitchen was looking at him funny, but what do I know?

The intro ended, and a voice introduced herself as the narrator of the program. I tried to push her out of my mind, but the deep, feminine, silky smooth, honey voice wrapped around my superego, dragging my conscious mind back to the screen. I couldn't look away, I was too tired for that. I couldn't get up because my hands and feet were strapped to the recliner via padded belts, the only missing piece is one reserved for what the anthros viewed as "marriage."

They were wrong. On the television, a cartoonish representation of a wolf of no particular subspecies waved at the viewer; me in this case, like many countless victims of this unorthodox form of torture. She stated some disclaimer that was fast-forwarded on purpose so you would have a hard time catching all of it, fucking bureaucrats. Once she was done, the scene on the screen changed to that of a solid white, and the lecture began.

One day, I was told that from that point forth, I had half an hour of "special education" right after dinner every day. At the time, I didn't care to know what it meant, but this was the... sixth, seven time? Even if I knew what was about to happen to me, there was no way I could've fought back, they'd just medicate me furthermore.