The thunder will come. No matter how fast
or shallow the flash, the thunder will come. Arrogantly, lightning tries to
delay its pursuit, to outrun the pursuer. This is a violation of nature. No one
can say if the thunder chases, or follows, or is pulled - but when it comes, it
comes. That is that.
It is important you know this. You see,
even among the best and brightest of your age, not many understand, or are even
willing to understand, the futility at the root of what we strive to do at this
establishment. We steal. We are thieves. We are running.
From one year to the next, we sap the
strength of the millions, perched comfortably in the chairs of this office.
Perhaps you don't see it. You, like many others, would have been told that we
are, in fact, the strength of the millions, but is it not strange? That which
uses a thing is recognized as the thing.
Blasphemy! You shout. You do not see. You
do not understand. If you had been where I've been, down here amongst the guts
and the gutters of the world, combing through the wires, digging through the
systems, rubbing shoulders with the masses, their touch, their sound, their
smell . . . If only.
I must tell you. I must tell you my tale.
Because one day I tried to shut it down, tried to pull the plug on this
monstrosity. For a moment in this wretched universe, all the harsh freezing
lights went out; the endless buzzing growl of the machines whittled away; the
numbers vanished from the screens; the sun poked out its head through the
tar-embedded clouds and dripped honey onto the cold, cold city -- can you
imagine? Down below, the people stopped in their tracks, in their rails; and
then they put down their burdens; and then they felt each other, knew each
other, saw each other; a mother heard her baby cry for the first time. The
office stood in shock. Nobody moved. It was as if the scene had sent an
invisible wave through the room. It made our outlines shimmer. And everything
was so beautiful . . .
Quick. I hear it rolling. This letter is
not to warn you, or send you running away on your pods to the next planet. You
will not get the chance. There is no time -- I've made sure of it. If you do
read this, all the way to the very end, I want you to think. Think for a
moment, what we've done. What you've done. What you would have kept doing, if
not for this great all-devouring thunder.
Hush. It has arrived.
Thanks!
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