The Choice

A screen crackles with static charge as it opens it’s eye to stare. It’s early, before the rooster calls the day to start. Salt and pepper static foams across the screen, casting a bluish tint onto Peter’s face. A test pattern rolls into focus.

Eventually the patterns fade, the image of a wind furled flag brings the projection to life as a hymn, performed by a brass band, crescendos an anthem, a ritual mass awakening to another day; a hypnosis.

The effect is numbing, only one thing can adjust this lobotomizing hold; a singe plastic green button linked to a choice: push it off or leave it on. The choice, the only difference between sanity and insanity, a mere button push away.

Images fade in and out on the glowing portal, accompanied by happy, happy musical refrains designed to capture wandering attention. Voice-overs make you nod your head in merry acquiescence. The mind turns to setting concrete, the body slumps, unable to move at will. The thought, the choice dies. Programming has succeeded.

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