“My family were murdered by the Establishment. Both of my parents and my two sisters when I was just seventeen years old. I was just fortunate that I was out at the time visiting a friend. They came for me again, but fortunately, members of the resistance reached me first.
That was when I found out who my parents really were. Not the docile slaves to the system that I had often accused them of being. I often wondered how they could be content with their lives. We lived in a small, squalid apartment. Diseases would run rampant through our communities. They kept their roles perfectly secret, even when I complained bitterly to them.
For some time, I couldn’t fathom why they never told me. But now I do. There were cameras, listening devices, and traitors behind every corner. They were trying to protect me.
Then something must have gone wrong. Maybe they said the wrong thing to somebody or maybe they were betrayed. I might never know and I’ve made my peace with that.
But their goal is now mine. No more squalor when there is an abundance of riches. No more babies dying when the medicine is plentiful. And no more slaughter just to protect the status quo.”
Mark's Writing Corner 