The Mad Man’s Speech
Your paradise is built on the graves of millions, let’s be honest. But you live in comfort, you have warm beds and full bellies, and you don’t smell the stench of the rot that your foundations pierce into. That is ok. That is how it is supposed to be for you. You are supposed to live your lives in peace, never getting your hands dirty. Your gardens will thrive, your groceries will never run out, and your water will run clear.
Just don’t dig too far down in the basement and ignore the cries that you hear threatening to break through the surface. Ignore the scars and dull looks that decorate their bodies, ignore the chains around their limbs and necks, someone has to wear them. Someone has to be the stepping stones so we can have a road to walk on.
So go back to your job, go back to your spouse, have a drink and celebrate that victory. And leave the actual conquering to the people that have the stomach to dig in the basement and bury the filth that we run into. Who knows maybe one of those pieces of trash will turn out to be useful and they will be brought up from the basement and be given a taste of what it means to be us but until then…well they will just have to prove themselves to be worthy of the air they consume.
But until then, my savior of the meek, bringer of justice to those unworthy, you will have to be content knowing that those things standing before you will never know what your birthright is. Go home, dear hero. Go home and forget that you ever peered into the basement and dared to feel anything for the junk that dares to stand in our presence. Go home before you become buried like them. You have a bright future, don’t waste it pretending to be a savior.
