I talked about my people, 'cause during war, my people suffer. Because that's always how it goes. They always round up the poor and shove them in front of the enemies' guns, and then they turn a profit off our deaths. They turn our corpses into money to stuff into their fat stupid pockets. They -
[ She's getting off-track. She shakes her head, sharply, then says - ]
What I want is for you not to act like - Honestly, like you have it worse. You've just got it different. I mean - you say that if an Englishman came to your country, his word would be worth more than yours and all that. Well, my Englishmen aren't allowed to go to other countries. We're not permitted to travel, not unless we get sent there by a magician to work or manage to forge papers pretending that's the case. You say that our word would be worth more - Well, I've sat in court and had someone from the government look me in the face and tell me that my word was rubbish and worthless and that I was probably a criminal and a thug for having the audacity to get attacked by a magician. Every day, we're watched by surveillance spheres that report back on everything we do - Every day, we die in factories - And every day, people disappear because a magician walked by and they didn't look at 'em with proper adulation and the magician got angry. Or the magician wanted them, and they said no, so the magician sends his demons to kill them. That happened with a man I knew - a magician murdered his wife 'cause his wife refused to leave Mr Pennyfeather for the magician. And when they're not killed outright, we don't know where they go. Usually they're taken to the Tower to be tortured, we know that, but sometimes they're just disappeared - eaten, maybe, by the Night Police. And sometimes they come back, and that makes it worse, that sometimes they'll survive it, because it means there's nothing you can count on, you can't even give up hope when they disappear. And we're shoved into schools, locked into schools, where they force-feed us propaganda every single day so that we don't even know that it's not all normal and good. They control all the news that reaches our ears and all the stories we hear, and they put on plays that are laced through with propaganda to just keep making us think what they want us to think, and they keep us illiterate so we can't even read and think for ourselves. And so everyone stays docile. We all stay quiet and sweet and polite and we die in their wars and we die in their factories and we die for their pleasure and they make money off it, every time, all the time, and we can't hide and can't escape.
[ She reaches up and drags her sleeve along her eyes, dashing away the tears that have sprung up. ]
So please don't tell me how wicked my people are. I swear, I'll scream if you do.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-02-09 12:57 pm (UTC)[ She's getting off-track. She shakes her head, sharply, then says - ]
What I want is for you not to act like - Honestly, like you have it worse. You've just got it different. I mean - you say that if an Englishman came to your country, his word would be worth more than yours and all that. Well, my Englishmen aren't allowed to go to other countries. We're not permitted to travel, not unless we get sent there by a magician to work or manage to forge papers pretending that's the case. You say that our word would be worth more - Well, I've sat in court and had someone from the government look me in the face and tell me that my word was rubbish and worthless and that I was probably a criminal and a thug for having the audacity to get attacked by a magician. Every day, we're watched by surveillance spheres that report back on everything we do - Every day, we die in factories - And every day, people disappear because a magician walked by and they didn't look at 'em with proper adulation and the magician got angry. Or the magician wanted them, and they said no, so the magician sends his demons to kill them. That happened with a man I knew - a magician murdered his wife 'cause his wife refused to leave Mr Pennyfeather for the magician. And when they're not killed outright, we don't know where they go. Usually they're taken to the Tower to be tortured, we know that, but sometimes they're just disappeared - eaten, maybe, by the Night Police. And sometimes they come back, and that makes it worse, that sometimes they'll survive it, because it means there's nothing you can count on, you can't even give up hope when they disappear. And we're shoved into schools, locked into schools, where they force-feed us propaganda every single day so that we don't even know that it's not all normal and good. They control all the news that reaches our ears and all the stories we hear, and they put on plays that are laced through with propaganda to just keep making us think what they want us to think, and they keep us illiterate so we can't even read and think for ourselves. And so everyone stays docile. We all stay quiet and sweet and polite and we die in their wars and we die in their factories and we die for their pleasure and they make money off it, every time, all the time, and we can't hide and can't escape.
[ She reaches up and drags her sleeve along her eyes, dashing away the tears that have sprung up. ]
So please don't tell me how wicked my people are. I swear, I'll scream if you do.