Illusions of Grandeur

The wind screamed horrifically as it kissed bare skin with steel blades, icy tears dropping like bombs shattered shards on the concrete forest. Figures below hurried along pre-set paths or inside metallic beasts roaming the endless roads, looking for a way out. The background people walked by, shadows and caricatures of each other they shuffled and bumped their way through pedestrian traffic. Some stopped and lit cigarettes, pausing to reflect on the chaos around them, nicotine sharpening their mind as their pupils contracted, taking in the scene before them. Silhouettes of people lost in their own worlds, the never-ending fall down the rabbit-hole that is consciousness. "Some day all of this will be yours", fathers whispered to their children over fast food and asparteme drinks. The children, smiling, look around at the post-dawn chaos and the shuffling presence of shadows, acknowledging no more than the advertisements and branding allowed. Caught up in the system, the background people could not see that what restricted them, each experiencing mass-produced consciousness that was injected intravenously. Society was fabricated and shaped by the social institutions which governed the people. Mass media organisations, religious institutions, corporate branding- all served on some level to keep the mass population from reaching their potential. War, poverty, evil and the like were, it was taught, fundamental parts of human existence which could never be eradicated. Once the people had surrendered to these ideals, their fighting spirit was subdued and they fell on their knees, seeking guidance from those who had reached a level of power and influence, which was measured by wealth. Most of the people were happy about this, their lives they knew would be short, because they were told that life was short. And so they lived for the 'morrow, the days that never came, and their thoughts dwelled on the past, days which seemed so much happier and better.