There is a war going on, a fight for your mind’s attention. You are laid
in front of the machine with the tools to destroy it yet the black and
white spinning screen is hauntingly enchanting. The voice that speaks
tells you to relax, to think of your team’s logo and your favorite song.
Your eyes flicker and begin to lower. That warm feeling you get when joy
flows over you is felt, you begin to obey but something screams inside
of you from the core of yourself. A flashback into childhood shakes your
awareness and you remember the sardines your mom turned down claiming
she already ate. You stare into the machine who is simultaneously doing
its destruction and hypnotizing you but it slips a bit allowing you to
see it buying the land of a tribe for some pennies and trinkets while it
moves in equipment to ravish the land, displace the indigenous people
while creating conditions uninhabitable to anything with a pulse. You
feel another child die of starvation where the machine was recently but
that thing is spinning telling you its hopeless to resist, eat your ice
cream with coffee and be happy it’s not you. Your resistance falters
until you look at the child holding onto your leg who resembles you more
than your partner. The child is looking toward a future yet its plagued
by limitations due to something as invaluable as ink on fabric. You grip
your hammer and sickle but you are confused at how you will survive
without the machine. Then you look around and see the millions of beings
of all colors dressed in their different trades clothes with a smile on
their face. You can tell they are waiting on something, is it that they
are waiting for you to smash the machines that is in front of you that
only you can smash or are they waiting for you to fall asleep? Either
way the decision is yours, nobody can do it for you. The child looks at
you says I love you as much as they do. I need your help as do they, the
workers of the world, but the machine needs you too.
