I met with lackey of the Council and the eyes of light has diminish. I plead my case and explain my approach but it was to no avail.. Deaf ears and the thunderous disapproval of my work on the grill. My job is to shovel them through the mouth of Dante's womb...
I am behind enemy lines and running out of spaces to hide. I can feel them trying to purge the red juice that keeps me going. My neurons are firing down the highway of confusion. My job is not the family or children, it is the machine... They need to power the machine. Regardless.. Lackey was quite clear that I am at the lower rung of the ladder. Thought is the worst crime ever conceived and is punishable by Erasing.. Not sure what that is but the lackey made sure that machine is not happy and the very act of independent thought is a capital offense..
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