Second Life: A Second Chance

Little Isp: Η αλήθεια πονάει (I)

Ah, I can still remember the exact words told to me at the probing a few years back. It was all like a weird nightmare. I was waiting in line behind all the other eager younger boys, awaiting to find out what group I would belong to. Even if I had been nervous then, I was not as moved by the wrist probe as much as the other males at my age because you see, I am not from here and I could care less about a stupid probing. Not even the results of the probe would get me to worry as I was assured everything would run smoothly. No, what I was actually worried about was about the effects taking the post probe pill would cause. What was inside the-

My apologies for going off track, I will continue on with my memory. It had reached my turn to be probed with the lady in the purple jumpsuit ordering to me to show her my left wrist. "Hold out your wrist sir," she said to a confused younger version of myself. I looked at her in complete disbelief. Was this lady really ordering me to hold out my hand? There is such a thing as please and manners, especially with the right to not obey poorly licensed nurses but then again, I was a youngun at the time and did not realize how badly of a transgression I was committing. "Sir? Hold out your wrist sir," she repeats to me. I look at her quietly and with lost eyes, wondering if I should hold out my wrist or not. I was never advised on how to respond to orders given by government officials. Then again, it was probably a good thing. Angered and frustrated by my lack of understanding, the woman proceeds to yell at me.

"HOLD OUT YOUR WRIST SIR!" she yells.

I, not knowing what she was going to do at the time, give in to her demands. I had to hesitate at first though. I was young at the time, what was I supposed to do when just arriving? My hesitation though, was partly prompted by the attitude I generally have toward this so called Nation. To me, and the many who are not from where I am, firmly agree that the rules here are, of all account, odd and without common sense. Another point to add, mainly of my own opinion, is that the woman who probed my wrist, more or less her face, was petrifying to say the least, most likely inhabiting several disgusting features most Nation born citizens possess.

To continue, I personally have to say that I detest living in this dull-witted scam of a nation every citizen "claims" to be so proud of. This nation is likely the most frowned upon out of the entire developed world, well except for the Eurasian North, which isn't looking so hot right now. Unprovoked repeated floods and food shortages amidst daily violence plague the poor Eurasian peoples whereas the people of this alleged better nation do not, yet even with no provoked humanitarian disasters, half of the population surprisingly still suffer from starvation, inner violence, and tsunamis, which can all be avoided with the large amount of money, materials, land, and food this Nation has, enough to feed Central Eurasia three times over. From my education, all the issues present here is initiated through the way power is distributed from Paradias. My apologies again, I am deviating into more nationalistic and holistic issues.

Back to my recollection as mentioned before, I was probed, to put it lightly, with the ten second Quad Wrist Scan before being moved out of the line by the terrifying looking woman, and then having been picked up by my designated pre-natally assigned "Fathe Figure." My "Fathe Figure" or "Fathe," as the title suggests, is an assigned and often assumed to be, blood connected guardian for a male child living in this Nation. Assuming you assume how I am capable of existing here, you should have already guessed that my Fathe Figure is fact, not biologically connected to I. Amadan is my guardian for the meanwhile, well temporarily until our mission is completed or I turn legal internationally. Amadan is a trusted family friend, and the only person I know from home who is helping me cope with the realities of this twisted world. Due to the nature of us existing here in disguise, we are registered into the legal system of the Nation but not technically part of "the system." Nevertheless, I still had to and continue to blend in, just so I won't be mistaken for the males' common and often, mistaken scapegoat enemy, the Homs (short for homosexuals) and killed, lest I ever be discovered as a spy, where who knows what will happen to me.