School: A Trauma

This is to the teachers who put me on a pedestal
The only ‘justification’ they used bordered cultural and racial
This is to the classmates who sectioned off by sex
With girls to the right and boys to the left
This is to the headmasters who signed off on those papers
Took bribes from the parents of bullies and of haters
This is to the schools who employed psychos and sociopaths
Who used professional jargon and OCD to disguise narcissistic wrath

This is to my primary years when they used my childhood as role-model
Simply because of my efforts in becoming fluently bilingual
Only to have the second-language suppressed by dominant-race
Even though my native-tongue was one they could not embrace
They forced me to mimic their language and failed to educate
They could not teach etymology and when asked ‘why’ they couldn’t explain
Yet on paper they were marketed as highly-educated professionals
Though all they could do was emulate and copy-write outdated originals

This is to my secondary years when I finally learned about bullies
As it started from the head of school, then leaders, teachers, faculties
Colonial caucasians exploiting money from local families
Written off by those with smiles playing God as they stole society’s money
Then invested it in schools abroad and bought over those same brand names
Built capitalist institutions here and confused ‘school’ with ‘money to be made’
They enforced this competition on the innocence of youth
And when students refused to cater then we were mentally abused

Tip of the ice-berg, it gets worse, so read on if you dare
And don’t say I didn’t warn you — I did my part to care
Nonetheless if you must continue then be braced for the truth
Of what actually happened all those years in an atrocity of a school
That was sold on the premise that the highest-paying students would succeed
But it’s twenty-plus years of debt and scars that till this day still bleed
Parents sold their properties and skipped meals for their kids
Just to get them an enrollment that was later listed for bids

Corporate debentures per student is six times the annual salary
Of an average working-class resident who’s trying to raise a family
But those debentures are returned for it is money from the company
Whereas personal debentures are what bureaucrats use for their own properties
So to the parents of that school who never got what was paid for
I’m sorry to say but you were all ripped off by a school charging more
Than the typical secular international schools that are actually known globally
And not just recognized by one curriculum in one far-off remote country

Now we’d love to keep this civil and not make it a national issue
Unfortunately The School crossed that line when they stole cultural values
Warped it into an institution that they disguised with fake theology
Not the real experience of God or Christ, not even the Trinity
All they did was find a translation of whichever colonial edition
Worked into a white-male patriarchy that exploited this local system
None of the teachers even bothered learning to speak our languages
No, they just gave detention or punishment because THEY felt ignorant

When confronted on injustice by both students and parents
Then the teachers would kick up a fuss by whining and playing victim
Using a technique absolving them from all blame
But now that arrogance and classism is all over the school name
Alumni are still traumatized from homophobes and racists
Twenty-year-olds on anti-depressants trying to heal from such bullshit
Students are forced to listen to teachers ‘praying away the gay’
Then to ‘justify’ the homophobia they also discriminated gender and race

Till now, you still employ teachers, whose word-choice is so poor
That students couldn’t learn from them, our thesauruses taught us more
Teachers who were so small-minded that even eight-year-olds
Had more exposure and life experience than their indoctrinated hold
Your teachers asked minority students if parents were flight attendants
Your teachers did not critique the anti-semitism in Merchant of Venice 
Your teachers told us that ‘gay’ was a synonym for ‘stupid’ or ‘dumb’
Your teachers stood up for the bullies and constantly blamed the victims

It’s 2020 and you’re trying to rebuild amidst a global pandemic
Trying to recover your losses as if the only liability is economic
No, no, it doesn’t work that way, remember what you preached?
The notion of ‘loving money breeds evil’ is what you teach
Yet the moment teachers are asked to sacrifice and reduce their salaries
Then all hell breaks loose within the school then leaders raise the fees
All the while employing faculty who ‘claim’ the same philosophy
Of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, compassion, sacrifice, and of humility

Is any of that true for you or is that just your PR department
Writing on the website in order to acquire a pay-check?
If you call yourself a school then why are your teachers indoctrinated
By corruption, by colonialism, by caucasian expectation?
If you call yourself international then why do you only speak English?
Then ask students to expand yet serve detention for alternative language?
If you brand yourself on education then why has there been no change
In the experiences and memories of countless students who’ve left that place?

You, old school, are founded on nothing but lies
Painting your walls and buildings as if Prince of Darkness can be disguised
Then buying ideas from nations where you have never even been
Paraphrasing ideals from people you’d never make an effort to meet
You sit there in your glass office so insecure you need security
But if you’ve done nothing wrong then why install CCTVs?
Or do you think you’re so valuable that people would rob you?
Sorry to state the obvious but even thieves deem you no value

You’ve got multiple departments who are paid to grow your accounts
As the lawsuits and liabilities left you with unpayable amounts
All hidden behind the smiles of students you exploit
Families you manipulate in order to enjoy
The popularity and fame that was founded on lies and hate
On the pains of all who built your brand so you and your teachers could procreate
So employees could marry and populate an already over-populated city
All the while imposing such values on continuously-struggling families

You’re so far gone from discipleship that you’ve worded it as ‘followers’
Etching and engraving names of capitalistic corporate investors
Placing trophies, certificates, achievements on your walls and on your shelves
As if you’re building a seminary, not school, forgetting your God only had twelve
Twelve disciples completely committed to ensuring love, truth, justice
But your teachers got so caught up ‘in love’ they engaged in dysfunctional romance
You’ve all lost sight and ignore the truth just to stay ‘in love’
Then deflect using colonial theology saying ‘God’s given more than enough’

That same colonial theology that is misinterpreted by pharisees
Whose lives and lifestyles and choices they make are pure hypocrisy
You claim to follow a trinity who was made human and walked around in rags
Who spent more time in pubs and brothels having dialogues, not shags
Then you yourself dress up in Channel or Dior and even approve of H&M
Even though the theology you preach goes against such exploitation
So here we all are, wondering, do you actually know your theology
Or was that just interpreted with synonyms so you’d get a moment on TV?

Do you, as a multi-cultural international school, accept students from all classes and cultures?
Or do you view students of other religion and income as ‘contaminated vultures’?
Are you taking money from the same people you shun and call it a ‘conversion’?
And aside from converting currencies did you also convert the conversation?
Did you walk away from the fundamental truth that Christ is a spirit, not a person?
That God is the extroverted quality and introverted Jesus came as human?
Have you ever learned to read other languages, philosophies, or religions?
Or did you take advantage of Grace and Mercy to avoid rather than fight your demons?

Have you forgotten that in an international school there are people from other countries
Who speak multiple languages and bring values from different cultures
Whose families and ancestry likely have much history
Histories more vast, much deeper than your country’s
So please, just quit your ignorance and stop selling naivety
Even your white-washed theology intercepted the nativity
Your curricula is already scrutinized for suppressing the indigenous
And at present in 2020 you do the same to this city’s natives

So if you’ve any dignity and even a shred of integrity
Then you’d know your hands are tied so why do you insist on trying to lead?
How can you guide (y)o(u)r lead ‘da’ ship into righteousness, away from all this competition?
What moral compass misguided your direction and set your sails against God’s winds?
For years you’ve sought and leaders have come but were only faced with rejection
Because you were not ready to face the battles against your Satanic demons
So you employed only those who spoke your language but knew nothing of oppression
You didn’t even realize that you literally just translated an existing system

The irony in all this is that the school was worried about student depression
When it already had our sympathy and pity for whoever justified its discrimination
Teachers thought they cared about children but really used us as deflections
Unwilling to get therapy for teachers, the school just put students on medication
Essentially, those teachers have little concern for learners’ education
If anything, they’re more influenced by ‘conversion’ and ‘eradication’
For some egotistic reason they truly ‘believe’ that they’re so different
As if they’re the only institution selling outdated white-evangelism

You and them stood on stage singing “Break every Chain”
Well, y’all broke your chain of command, mate
You broke the chain that bound you to Christ
Then ran off into the dark of the night
You took your own vision out of your mission
And instead building students you focused on building pensions
The moment your heart, souls, and minds made that flip
Well… that’s exactly when it all began to slip

See, “Blessed are the persecuted” does not mean “persecute in order to bless”
Nor is “do unto others as you’d have them do” a reflection of karmic process
You even misconstrued “fear” for “respect” when it’s “respect of God” and not “fear”
Because perfect Love casts out all insecurity so why are you so scared?
God is the Head does not mean Man is the head, for God is an ungendered spiritual entity
Christ is an experience and experiences can’t be forced, yet your school is now a seminary
So can you please rethink and reassess what you sell because you’ve no right to preach
You’re not Jesus nor do you’ve theological licensing so… stick to your M.Ed and. just. teach.

 

MG

Global Fight Against Racism

The Black Hole (Part III)

After years of exploring the Black Hole, I returned to humanity.

I tried to speak of this experience with humans, but not everyone was as open-minded. Of course, there were some who took an interest and enjoyed hearing of my travel journeys. Those were able to live vicariously through my shared experience.  But then there were the sceptics, the ones who thought I was speaking gibberish and manipulating people for the sake of attention.

I wasn’t, but I can understand why they’d felt that way. After the Black Hole, I actually understood much of what I didn’t even realize I had yet to know.

See, though the Black Hole was filled with a great deal of what people call “nothingness”, it was only in the surrender of ego did I finally see everything within the nothing.

In becoming so detached and removed from humanity, I finally grasped the essential elements that drive them in such a manner.

My distance showed me that humans are simple creatures with complex insecurities. Simple in that they are hedonistic, utilitarian, narcissistic, and competitive. They capable of anger but also joy, strength as well as weakness. They love as deeply as they hate, they rest as much as they work. Humans are simple in that they are multifaceted beings striving to become one.

But humans are also complex in that they often have displaced emotions. They project  insecurities in inappropriate manners at the wrong moment due to egocentric defense mechanisms. They are far more often controlled by ego rather than truth. Driven by image over honesty. Humans portray weaknesses as strengths and are offended when shown the same image from another angle.

Returning to humanity, I had to uproot examples within the human world in order to portray a realization to which I came within the Black Hole.

It is that one simple way to test the complexity of a human ego is to take one out of its comfort zone and see how it responds to change. See, the ego, combined with personal experience, is what determines how adaptable a person can be.

Prominent examples can be seen in the following areas within today’s humanity: racist arrogance (feels uncomfortable around people of different color), xenophobia (inability to communicate with those who speak other languages), gender bias (expects to be served by the opposite gender), religious intolerance (quick to disagree with any terminology pertaining to other beliefs), ageism (judgemental of people from other generations).

Having been hiding in the Black Hole for so long, I’d become so outdated as to what had been going on in the physical world. Much as I had obtained a theoretical understanding of the human ego before my journey’d commenced, it was not until I became void of my own did I see clearly the prominence of it within humanity.

…And with that newfound knowledge, as promised, I shared it with the world.

Not for the fame, not for the glory, but simply because I was curious and am now excited about the discovery.


Sincerely hope that you have enjoyed the adventure written in these three parts. It has been a delight journeying with you.

May you, too, reach a sense of enlightenment, acceptance, understanding, and peace from within. May you learn to exist on your own without relying on the ego.

I wish you all well. Thank you for reading. 

 

MG

 

 

 

The Black Hole (Part II)

First read Part One (Click for link)

I kept that promise — except… I did it metaphorically. No, I did not join NASA and fly to the physical Black Hole on which Einstein and Hawking both have astounding theories. Nay, I traveled to a metaphorical Black Hole and was sucked into a world that I never would have thought existed. A parallel universe on earth, so to speak, where time-zones collided with human measurements of time. Where humans behaved much like the depictions of demons I had read about in literature. Where all that I knew of the world had crumbled into a pile of what I now realize was a childish idealisation of humanity.

I went to the Black Hole — if anything, simply because I was curious. At that age, it was never about the glory or fame. It was never about the money or the risk. It was about the innocent curiosity of wanting to know what lay ahead.

Of discovering a secret that the world hadn’t.

Yes, it was an egocentric drive, but one with a positive outlet that drove me to do crazy, unheard of things that I can now understand experientially rather than limited to vocabulary. It was the push I’d needed at the time, incidentally, the one that pulled me so far away from my ego and into a universe without a self.

In this universe, my shell was invisible; the egocentric shell, the human cloak which I wear to shield myself from vermin, was not brought into this place.

It was disconcerting. I felt disoriented and “not my-self” because essentially, I was not my “self”, I was just… me. I floated around the universe as an unnoticed observer who tried to make its presence known by way of habitual behaviour derived from the egotistic persona. None of my actions were familiar, and yet they did not feel wrong at the same time.

I felt myself changing in this universe. Am I growing or am I stagnating? Am I moving forwards in the wrong direction or walking backwards in the right one? Am I floating or am I flying? Am I drifting or am I surrendering my power? Am I strong or am I weak?

These questions I’d pondered left-right-and-centre until years later, I reached a final conclusion.

Do those answers actually matter, or am I just distracting myself from escaping this void I’d been so curious to explore?

It was right at that moment a pathway magically appeared. A dark spot had appeared in the Black Hole (which was filled with a surprising amount of light, so much that you couldn’t actually see anything. You know that feeling of total darkness? Well imagine total brightness, it ain’t that pretty either.) But that darkness meant a way out, a way back into humanity.

A way back to me

The answer to the question was actually quite simple: the answer doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with the knowledge that counts.

Though anyone could’ve told me that in a second, the pathway only appeared because I had reached something they call acceptance. I had to accept simplicity and deny mediocrity.

After years of exploring the Black Hole, I returned to humanity.

I tried to speak of this experience with others, but…

 

Stay posted for Part III

 

MG

Write Truth with Love

“Write it with love,” I kept telling myself as I nervously tried to muster up the words. Writing from the heart was never hard until I realized how much there is to say, and yet so few words to convey. Perhaps that’s why I resort to poetry, it’s the direct link to the heart, to the unfiltered emotion, without the facade and masquerade of human conditioned behaviour. Socially appropriated responses, as they call it nowadays. Nonetheless, here I sit past sunset, wondering how to best express the wondrous and astounding experience I have been having since the day our eyes met. It seems so simple, when I pen it in rhyme, but why, oh why, do words evade when I want to say more than just…I love you…

Dear Darling,

I write this to you only hoping, praying, that you read this, at some point. Preferably soon would be nice. Our journey together is one of the most beautiful paths I’ve ever taken, especially because it’s with you. I’m not there physically, don’t quite consciously know why, yet somehow emotionally understand. Somehow, I am there, always, in the way that you need me to be, want me to be. I love you for that, for letting me love you. Remember that conversation we had, about “of the many ways to say I love you”? I remember that. I remember all our conversations.

But of all the ways to say “I love you”, you said it best. You said it in your words, in your actions, in your presence as well as in your silence. I only ever wanted to show you that, but became so tangled up in everything else that was going on; all the excitement, the transitions, the thrill and exhilaration of being in your company. I was careless, many times, I slipped up, and I made mistakes. I am sorry for that, truly, for the tears I’ve caused, for the pain from which I only ever wanted to shelter you. You’ve told me how happy you are now, how much you love yourself, how much you’ve grown and continue to grow. It’s like I’m seeing you see in yourself what I saw in you from the moment our eyes met. We lost and found each other amidst our chaos.

I know you find it hard to believe, almost impossible, but I knew from the start. There was something about you, when you sat opposite me, hearing the words come out of your mouth echoing my thoughts and personal reflections? Your words were/are a splittin’ image of my journey; it was uncanny. You had me hooked from the moment you let me get distracted by the tint in your eye. That flawless spark concealing worlds of words, galaxies of comets, stars falling and swirling around planets. Even writing this, I’m taken back to that universe of yours, teleporting through all of it…

Deep down, my love, I understand you, more than you realize. More than I show, sometimes. Emotions are not my forte, I did mention that, but I’m always learning. It’s me, darling, and you have taught me so much. Simply by being who you are, by being here with me, you have taught me lessons in life that I have only ever dreamed of learning. You have given me patience and self-discipline. Two lessons most around me have spend years trying to drill into me. But that’s all you, darling, you inspired me to breathe, to slow down in a way that I didn’t even realize I could. In a way that I very much needed.

You showed me a side of myself I had long since forgotten, a gentle compassion in me that you’d managed to silently resurrect.

My love, you are so much more to me than you realize. Your presence in my life, however you choose it to be, has been one of the reasons I’ve managed to shake of the cocoon that was jading my vision for the past few years. You, simply by showing me that you exist, have worked miracles in my life. It is for this reason that I want to thank you, for growing me, for pushing me into a new realm where you and I can coexist simultaneously while still physically living our human realities. I don’t know how you do it, and suppose a magician never reveals a secret.

I’m no magician, but I do have a secret. A secret that I would happily REveAL if you want.

Truthfully, darling, I hope you realize that it has always been you.

Just you.

What you and I have…this is beyond love. It’s something deeper. I know you know that. I love you, and so much more than just love…You are amazing. We are amazing. This journey; us.

Us…The story that writes itself…

M.G.

Soundtracks

As the sun set behind the clouds on which they’d rested all day, I watched as my planet slowly spun into the shadows. I thought about how years ago, almost centuries ago, when “night fall” was seen as dangerous. When the human species started to fear the “demons” that came out to play — what all started as a simple rustle of a leaf or a flicker of a shadow became sanctioned curfews and implemented sleep schedules through labour and education.

It was merely the break of night, still, glimpses of the sun stealing its last bit of attention before slowly disappearing…

I closed my eyes and listened. My ears tuned into the music of cellos echoing the underlying waves of the beach, the sands under my feet as my toes gripped the shells. My heart tuned into the violins — the distant cries of dolphins, of seagulls, of creatures great and small. My soul tuned into the piano — the sounds of memories, of adventures, of visions and dreams.

That overwhelming feeling of being excited, fearful, adventurous, and free. The agonizing weight as my memories overtook me momentarily, replaced by a hopeful element of what is yet to come.

Walking along the beach, I realized that I was falling in love with the moment, with the experience. I was falling in love with the memory in the making. Neither time nor place mattered. All that mattered was the experience.

I was falling in love with whatever was manifesting inside of me, as the energy started to boil…

It was an exhilarating feeling, one that I wanted to hold for as long as it would, a beautiful resonance I wanted to prolong for as long as time stayed in my hand.

I was falling in love, again and again, with that exact moment in time.  As the cello picked up, as the flutes chimed in, as the song took a slow pause to breathe… It picked up again once all the instruments had held on for as long as they possibly could. The song was unfinished, and the resounding note that pulsed through my veins told me that what was unwritten was only unfinished.

I fell in love with that exact moment in time.

And so I journeyed on as the songs transitioned, one after another, after another, after another, until I had enough songs to create an entire soundtrack of all the groundbreaking moments that took my breath away…I traveled, on foot, through the waters, until I had no more fight left in me. Until I had no more energy, no more air.

Until I was suffocated by my own desire to fall in love with moments

I had reached a dead end and realized…all I’d ever wanted was to have a hand to hold as we fell in love with moments…together.

T’was always that simple.

~M.G.~

Society

Blank.

I sit and stare at my screen
Trying to find the words to say
But to tell all that I’ve seen
Well… I’ve only got a day

For every finger we point
There are three pointing back
At us for our inadequacies
And corresponding fallacies

They push you to the edge
Only to knock you down
Then blame you for being on the cliff
When they nudge and you crash and burn

Instead of changing minds
My actions are seen as crimes
Being different comes with a price
One I’m paying with my life

No one seems to see
That society creates agony
The amount of negativity
A result of truths unseen

Unseen to the average human
Sheltered in their comfort zones
Safety nets of their construct
Phased by life’s cyclones

All that we perceive
We trust the concrete
All that we can see
Is our defined reality
We fear the unknown and the unseen
For it unravels our insecurities
Everything we think we perceive
The lies we’re taught to believe
The person we’re told to be
Is a manifestation of all that is
A social construct – a mythical bliss
~McGordan~

The Change

This story is inspired by Huxley’s Brave New World and Sid Meier’s Civilization V: Brave New World. 

He swung his rucksack over his shoulder and pulled the door shut behind him as he left the house, once again ready to fly solo into the battlefield. It was an average sunny morning with nothing new except his thoughts and theories which consumed him faster than the speed of light. All geared up with his knives and a crossbow, he skipped down the stairs, realising that the agonising discipline he had endured for the past decade was finally coming into play. He’d never understood why he’d been put through combat training, until about a year ago…

It was late July, halfway into the summer, that he was navigating around various city-states in his surrounding area. In this age of technology, though, his exploration was mostly conducted by travelling through cyberspace. He would navigate from state to state, find the most feasible settling point, and experiment by scouting around the boarders. For months, he had established Influence over certain city-states and civilisations, but it wasn’t until November that he had stumbled upon a civilisation that fully encompassed the types of battles for which he was trained.

In months, he had created a weapon that could ultimately destroy a civilisation of Megalopolises; a weapon that would break through the defense of Superficiality and thus expose and attack flaccidity of the archenemy both as an entity and as individuals. The downside, however, was that his weapon also unmasked his own weaknesses, and he needed to reconstruct a certain set of defenses accordingly. However, as he had allied with a small but strong Civilisation, he ended up investing most of his energy into fueling the weapon and hadn’t quite strengthened his defenses, so just over half a year later, when the Megalopolis decided to unite and declare war against this Civilisation, it was hardly a secret that his stronghold came crashing down, leaving fragments of debris on everything he touched.

With each battle, he felt weakened and defeated. But what his enemies didn’t know is that each scar they inflicted only fueled the fire and passion it took to take down this flawed and corrupt system. Two months after the initial battle, he decided to coalesce with the Army General to enhance the pre-existing weapon and defend it with double the aegis. They devised a strategy that was everything he had hoped, months ago, to enforce, but given the fact that the weapon was still in its phase of refurbishment, he decided that it was still too early in the game to bring out the big guns and fire the ultimatum. Instead, the Army decided it best to ultilise the information uncovered by their diplomats to administer alternate methods.

Finally, after three and a half months of provocation and warfare, he felt ready to save the society from falling down a swirling abyss of soon-to-be Betas of the Brave New World. The Civilisation had devised a strategy to conquer the boundaries of a backward society and catapult these Megalopolises into progressing in a universally sanctioned direction. Fueled with a passion that went both ways, he was fully equipped to train certain Melee units to defend their assets and enhance the skills they had already developed, but also to take on the antagonistic opposition from Greater Civilisations.

Each Melee Unit he was handed to train was equipped with their own set of weapons, and it was his job to cultivate these units into armies that could handle the Great Battle which was yet to come. These little battles that were coming his way at a rapidly unexpected pace were merely his next level of training, which is why he understood the importance of training his Melee Units as rigorously as possible.

The Great Battle was one he knew he was definitely not ready to face yet: What happens when his Melee Units reach their Age of Enlightenment and besiege the Megalopolis? How hard will the Megalopolis fight back then? Somehow though, his reassurance lay in the fact that they knew how to strategise around these impediments, which is why he allowed himself to sustain a few broken bones and scratches here and there: he knew they would grow back stronger, and that he would be able to take on the Ultimate Battle when it stares him in the face. For now, he just has to go on training his Units, and defend their Freedom without the Megalopolis trying to eradicate it. Being one of the few Civilisations in the Information Era, he knew he would have to wait a long time until his Melee Units moved out of the Industrial Era. That, or he needed to find a new method of combat training.

With every demonstration during the training sessions, his Melee Units felt threatened and weakened, but they didn’t yet understand that this was his way of strengthening them. They didn’t understand that the only way to grow was to conquer the existing Challenges before they could be upgraded to a stronger Unit. After three months of battling and Melee Training, he had finally come to discover that although his armies were equipped with tons of state-of-the-art weaponry, none of them had been trained to actually use any of it, so in the first few sessions when he asked them to try to use it, they all ended up shooting themselves in the foot or poking an eye out one way or another.

In his mind palace, he realised that these armies would take much more training that he had anticipated, which was surprising considering how modern their military technology and weaponry supplies were. He knew what had to be done, and knew what the ultimate goal was, but as for how to win the battle, well first, he had to decided which ones were worth the fight. But he knew. He knew that the Ultimate Battle, or the Great Battle, would only be fought when he had enough Flight Units to intercept the opposition. And for now, he would continue with his various forms of research that would provide substance and options for stronger weapons and more fine-tuned training tools to cater to the unpredicted needs of units that have been bred but not trained. He was tired of seeing his government funding the nation’s military but not actually training the army to use the tools, and considering the fact that this Megalopolis was considered to be one of the most advanced Civilisations in the whole world, his jaw dropped when he discovered that one of his Units whom he had trained for a sheer 9-month period had more common sense than the entire government. They were living proof that his expectations for the Units were not irrational or impractical, and though he may be somewhat idealistic at times, each losing battle only drove his cynicism, which in turn nourished his Strength.

And although he was very well trained and equipped to attack and dominate, the Civilisation didn’t feel that he was ready to be put on the frontlines yet. Instead, they were training his defenses and setting up the battlefield, so that when they did unleash his Ultimatum, it would act like an abstract Apache AH-64 trained to only shoot down Enemy Thoughts but keep the civilians and their Freedom safe. Tough and heart-wrenching as the process sometimes was, he promised himself that he would live to see the day when the Change took place. When the Change he had spent a decade trying to implement happens, he would be on the frontlines with a PHASR rifle to blind and suspend Enemy Thoughts, and an MAARS to launch grenades of Liberated Knowledge which his Melee Units will use to defend their Liberated Minds. So for now, no matter how much damage he undergoes, as long as he has his moments to fortify and heal, he will live to be there when The Change happens, and he would sacrifice his reputation to achieve the ultimate goal of breaking through the Stereotypes and Traditionalism of a conservative, unenlightened and ignorant Megalopolis.

Until then, he wasn’t fighting alone, and besides his immediate allies, he had, within his mind palace, the defenses of Machiavelli, Huxley, Kafka, Sartre, Hobbes, Rousseau, Thoreau and Kant. For now, he told himself 8 words:

頂天立地
永不放棄