You begin to live happily, deatomize, become connected to the community, contribute to your society, make friends and social bonds previously unimaginable.
But... As time passes... You notice something strange. Strange about the way the people talk about their world, about the way they interact with each other, about their plans for the future. It's unavailable to you at the moment, but you can feel that something is deeply wrong.
Slowly, over time, you come to the grim realization. You are indeed living in a communist world. But it is a communist tendency slightly different than your preferred one.
That truck as speeding, didn't stop at the red light.
Red. Shit, there's a lot of red here. Is it blood? Am I dying?
No, not blood. A flag? A red flag? Where the fuck am I?
I sit up and feel my forehead. No blood, no pain, no wounds. Huh.
I look around and see a clean city street, no advertising, and some curious onlookers starting to gather around.
A kindly young man approaches me. "Comrade, are you hurt? You seem unwell."
Comrade? Holy shit...
"Let's get you to the hospital" he says, helping me up.
I try to protest, saying that I have no insurance. He looks puzzled, not sure what "insurance" even is. Must be a language barrier.
The hospital is just around the corner. It's a modern glass building with a beautiful garden. The facade is crowned by a red flag with a huge face emblazoned on it.
My sight begins to fade as I'm carted across the terrace.
I see a brilliant steel statue at the center of a fountain. Trotsky holds an ice pickaxe defiantly towards the sky, glinting in the sunlight.
In his other hand, he holds something lower, near to his belt line. It's round and sturdy. A human head. The man has strong features and a full mustache.
I speak out, "Comrade... The head... Tell me it belongs to Nietzsche.... GOD TELL ME IT'S NIETZSCHE"
You get isakaied into a communist world.
You begin to live happily, deatomize, become connected to the community, contribute to your society, make friends and social bonds previously unimaginable.
But... As time passes... You notice something strange. Strange about the way the people talk about their world, about the way they interact with each other, about their plans for the future. It's unavailable to you at the moment, but you can feel that something is deeply wrong.
Slowly, over time, you come to the grim realization. You are indeed living in a communist world. But it is a communist tendency slightly different than your preferred one.
It drives you mad.
You are now deemed the world's only rightist.
I wake up, dazed and confused.
That truck as speeding, didn't stop at the red light.
Red. Shit, there's a lot of red here. Is it blood? Am I dying?
No, not blood. A flag? A red flag? Where the fuck am I?
I sit up and feel my forehead. No blood, no pain, no wounds. Huh.
I look around and see a clean city street, no advertising, and some curious onlookers starting to gather around.
A kindly young man approaches me. "Comrade, are you hurt? You seem unwell."
Comrade? Holy shit...
"Let's get you to the hospital" he says, helping me up.
I try to protest, saying that I have no insurance. He looks puzzled, not sure what "insurance" even is. Must be a language barrier.
The hospital is just around the corner. It's a modern glass building with a beautiful garden. The facade is crowned by a red flag with a huge face emblazoned on it.
Trotsky. It's fucking Trotsky.
I die for a second time.
There, fixed it for you
My sight begins to fade as I'm carted across the terrace.
I see a brilliant steel statue at the center of a fountain. Trotsky holds an ice pickaxe defiantly towards the sky, glinting in the sunlight.
In his other hand, he holds something lower, near to his belt line. It's round and sturdy. A human head. The man has strong features and a full mustache.
I speak out, "Comrade... The head... Tell me it belongs to Nietzsche.... GOD TELL ME IT'S NIETZSCHE"
:data-laughing: