My reckoning is happening today. They had caught my one, final act of resistance. This act was peaceful, as are all of mine. My name is Jorgen Thurmenstein and I am one of the final members of the underground society of writers. The year is 2100 and writing/reading fiction, poetry, and any writing that instills some deep emotional feeling in the reader is outlawed. Only reality TV shows are allowed to be seen, all other categories of media are banned. This society is so caught up in superficiality that love isn’t even love anymore. It is a willingness to watch reality TV together. These shows are so hypnotizing that people can be found dead on their couches from starvation and dehydration. Our society of writers is trying to put a stop to superficiality and complacency.

I was arrested for treason and sedition. The police found my book, The Treaty of Man, a satirical novel about happiness and superficiality. I was about to have it secretly published and distributed by some of my writing buddies. It was going to be the largest act of rebellion we had ever conceived, and it was all confiscated as evidence. I suppose it was bound to happen at some point, seeing as we had been going on for thirty years now. The trial is short and I am unanimously sentenced to ten years in what is called the brain room. They say it feels like a lifetime. My mind is clouded in the nights leading up to my transfer from house arrest to the brain room. I am full of demons that it will surely read. It always reads everything.

The transfer is happening today and I know what I have to do. I must empty my mind of all the darkness that has entered it since I was a little child. You see, I was been professionally diagnosed with Major Depression Disorder with psychotic features at the age of 15. It’s not as bad as Schizophrenia, but I still hallucinated at my lowest points. My mother checked me into a psychiatric facility on my fifteenth birthday. I suppose you could say that it was my birthday present, but that would be a lie. My birthday present was when my roomate attempted to murder me. He had homicidal ideations, you see. I didn’t scream for help or any nonsense like that, seeing as I wanted nothing more than to go into that dark abyss. The PCAs eventually came in and took his hands from around my neck. They tied him down so he couldn’t hurt himself or anyone else. That day was the worst day of my life at that point, seeing how I was so close to death and yet so far. Nowadays I consider it the best day of my life because I got to experience what dying felt like. I was out of the hospital in a month, sent home with meds and instructions to be a good citizen. Like that was ever going to happen.

Emptying one’s mind can be a challenge, especially if one is pressed for time. I did my best and felt prepared for ten years of pure hell. “It’s time to go on a little vacation,” stated the guard. “You know it!” I responded with a smile. The police transferred me without incident and we arrived at the stark grey building containing brain rooms. You could say I was quite nervous. I was walked up to my floor and thrown into a room of pure white. “Good luck in there,” exclaimed the guard. “I don’t need luck,” I stated with a smile. Boy was I wrong! I would have settled for the death penalty if I knew what I was getting myself into. Ten years seems like a long time, and it seems even longer within the brain room. A helmet lowered onto my head and began scanning my thoughts. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I began to hallucinate. The helmet picked up on this right away and my mental state was quickly read. It would use this to its advantage and worsen my mental status. Projections began to appear around the room. “Dad?” I asked? I hadn’t seen him for most of my life, since he died when I was three years old. “How’s it going?” I calmly asked him. “Quite well. I have missed you very much,” He stated. “I have missed you as well,” I exclaimed. “I am going now. Goodbye forever,” He declared. Two men jumped out from some bushes and brutally raped him to death. I went crazy and began hallucinating my worst fears, one of which is losing myself and going on a murderous rampage. Some children playing hopscotch were projected, but they looked so real I lost my sense of reality. I walked up to them and one of them kicked me in the shin. I went berserk and killed both of them with my bare hands. The snap of their necks sounded quite realistic! This torture continued constantly for ten years, not even stopping for meals.

Time finally came up and I was a free man. I couldn’t stand living in this world anymore, where I could so easily break down. Suicide was my only option, so I did a little research project. Nitrogen gas, a plastic bag, and a tube sounded like a good method. I went out and bought the materials, as if I was doing a science project. That’s all this was, a project about death. I built my mechanism and died slowly on my comfortable bed, seeing my dad shrieking all the time.