We're Not Gonna Take It

Chapter IV: So, so you think you can tell, heaven from hell?

I had finally made it to a town; I could finally stop eating instant noodles!  That alone was cause for celebration; unfortunately, the only thing I had to celebrate with was, you guessed it- instant noodles.  I had started eating them dry, as the effort it took to boil water for them was absurd and unnecessary.  Even after weeks of traveling through forests, I still had packets upon packets of those wretched things.

Only narrowly more important than being able to obtain somewhat-real food, was the fact that I would soon be able to talk to the poor, called the deplorables, about how the government was systematically abusing them.  The more pressing matter, however, was getting food rations. 

Later that day, after I had gotten (real, non-instant) food, I stood in the town square distributing extra food and clothing I had bought at a shop and asking people to wait around to hear what I had to say.  I soon amassed a large crowd, and after only a short time, began my well-rehearsed, well-thought out, speech to accost the people and inform them of Chosen Ones and their atrocities. 

"I am here today," I projected, "to speak to all of you about your government, the Chosen Ones."

A huge cheer went through the crowd at the mention of the words "Chosen Ones." The timing was precise, automatic- like it had been rehearsed a thousand times before.

"I am here today," I continued, "to explain to you the systematic oppression that occurs in this country.  From the time you are born, you are labeled a deplorable.  From the time you are born, you are sentenced to work menial jobs, and exist only to provide cheap labor.  All of you, from the time you are born, exculpate the government- without even realizing.  All of you, gathered in this square here today, all of you, intrinsic to functioning society as we know it, is being taken advantage of, are a piece of a cog in the capitalistic murder machine."  So far, there were no protests, no rocks being thrown.

"You work in factories.  You work day and night, doing the same thing, time after time, day after day, week after week, year after year, and will continue to millennia after millennia.  When you work in these factories, you get next to nothing.  You have no health benefits; you have no union; you have no respect.   From doing backbreaking labor, you reap no fruit.  You have no way to invest capital- no way to gain wealth, status, no way to improve your standard of living.  You create and create and create, but what do you get in return?  Nothing.  You work in arduous conditions, but continue to live in abject poverty.  This trend is ubiquitous in this country- you, the so-called deplorables, are not valued.  The government only sees you as ways to make more tanks, to blow up other tanks, so those tanks too can get blown up, and then more tanks can be made. 

"But you are not told this.  You are taught that the government is infallible, that the government is perfect, that the government's accuracy and honesty are unerring, incontrovertible.   That is completely falsified- your government sees you as pawns in a bloody game of chess."

I continued on until the end of my speech, which was greeted with polite applause.  I was perplexed; I had just told a group of government-worshipping civilians that their government hated them, in a public square, with plenty of bricks to throw at me for being a heathen.  Yet, I was met with no yelling, no shouting, no protesting, no rocks; just polite applause and a thanks for the food I brought.

That night I realized something; they had no idea what I said to them.