Dystopia

In this world, every single thing must be precisely calculated. In this world, everything must be thought out before being carried out — whether or not anything done would be advantageous to the people must be carefully planned.

In this world, no one understands why some people’s mind breaks down and turn — as the White Commitee says — useless.

Would you like to know what would happen to those deemed useless? They would get recycled. They would enter the Black Factory in black coffins, and get recycled for good. Sometimes, people inside bang on their coffins, begging to be set free.

Yet no one is ever set free.

Once the emotion police capture you and put you in one of those dreaded black coffins, there is no way out. You shall made your way to the Black Factory, and you shall be recycled.

The flaw in this system is that, for whatever emotion crime you commit, there would be only one consequence : recycling. Thus it was needless to say that the greatest offense would be the strongest emotion : love.

Falling in love means that you fail our carefully crafted system. The system that the White Commitee thought out as a solution to our continually degrading world. Our corrupt world. It was determined that emotions are evil, it spreads like a plague. And the strongest emotion, love, was the most dangerous plague of all. It halts productivity. It hampers logic.

I know all that.

I worked for the White Commitee.

Alas, now I am inside a black coffin.

I know what would happen to me. I would get recycled. Just like nearly everyone else around my living block.

The White Commitee can’t afford more death — the red death had taken too much victim, too much lives. We need to stay productive to stay alive, all of us. Even the useless ones need to be recycled in order to gain back productivity.

Our memories erased, our hearts and brains replaced with machine in order to prevent us from again committing the same crime and turning useless.

We.

Are.

Now.

Recycled.

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