Generation Z

They leave nothing to chance. Long before they approached me, they knew I would become one of them. Because in this fight, you can’t take no chances. Chances will take your life.

I just entered the address. The cursor is blinking. Urging me on. Challenging me.

They told me: Visit this page, and you will know the truth. Not because of what’s written on it. But because THEY are monitoring it. Once I hit ENTER and my browser accesses the page, I am on THEIR list.

This is my pill. Red or blue. Do I want to know? Who gives a fuck about truth anyway? I know I’ve been living a lie. Everyone is. It’s the human way of dealing with things too complicated for our stone-age minds. It’s in our genes.

We are the Generation Z, they told me. The last humans who just MIGHT still make a difference. After us, there is only surveillance. Total control. Not only of your data. Of your genes. Life will not depend on chance anymore. THEY will not allow it. Call it Eugenics. Call it Post-Humanism. Call it Endgame. Call it NWO. To THEM, it doesn’t matter. To THEM, it is inevitable. Like the next step in a long history.

I’ve surfed. I’ve watched the Youtube videos. I’ve had my laughs at those ideas that were just crap. I’ve pondered conspiracy theories for a while. Until I wanted to play Wii again. There is so much to do. I don’t need this shit.I know the world’s in trouble. Always was. Not my fault. Not my responsibility. I have enough trouble leading my life. Although, really, it’s no trouble at all. Not hungry. Not cold. But if I’d admit I have too much free time on my hands, that would somehow make me responsible. For what, I’m not sure. Everyone is busy. Checking -Emails. Removing Spam. Downloading MP3. Playing Poker online. Blogging. Reading blogs. Commenting. Posting in forums. Being insulted. Flaming back. Ignoring people. Designing avatars. Walking through empty virtual worlds. Second Life. World of Warcraft. Browsing online stores. For better offers. For stuff we don’t need. Stuff we can sell on Ebay. God, I’m sounding like a teen. I’m twentysomething. Too old for this shit. Grown up.

Now they are BOTHERING me. With this shit. Us versus THEM. Yeah. Like hell.

So, who are THEY? Either one of them? The ones that approached me, and the ones I should know the truth about? Is this some sort of sick game? Operation Mindcrime, once again?

They won’t tell me. Because I have to see it to believe. We all do. We are Humans. It’s in our genes. They told me: We could say what we like. If we told you what we have learned, it would sound stupid. Whacko. And you, you would turn and walk away. You are a cynic. A skeptic. A miscontent. A deviant. You are everything we approached you for. You listen to no one. That’s good, because you don’t listen to THEM. But you won’t listen to US, either. Wouldn’t believe a word we say. About men in black. About how strange black „special ops“ police guys seem to pop up in every country, without any clear identification. About shadow government. Shadow agents. Shadow police. Shadow-whacko-everything.

No, you are too smart for us. So here’s a card. With an address. See? No big deal. If we are loonies, just type http double point double slash and the rest of the garbage, hit enter, read, have a laugh, turn off the PC, and you won’t be bothered by us, ever again. If there are no shadow agents, no shadow spook’s gonna follow you, and the white van will never come. Because it doesn’t exist. See? Nothing to fear.

So, which pill will it be?

The good news is: This isn’t the Matrix. And I am not human battery, dreaming of life in the here and now.

The bad news is: This isn’t the Matrix. No way to jack out. And I have been dreaming my life away.

Until now.

[ENTER] 

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