Canto Cutie - Volume 2

A passage from the Bible: Citizens must respect the Pearl of Orient at all times.
To prevent any misunderstandings, citizens should never cause disturbance to
society, those who do may be executed. Any forms of disagreement to the Pearl
shall not be tolerated and those who disturb in the name of the Utopian Era will be
strongly condemned.
This is the Temple; you’re not supposed to be here.
ANON did not expect himself to be standing in a fishy empty chamber. The room
was so empty, ANON barely found anything valuable. A dry, deflated fisheye was
placed on a velvet showcase, with dust moving and alighting around. How ironic it
was to realize what the whole nation had been praising had become nothing but a
fraud. Hours ago, ANON was still mumbling about how ridiculous the 5 meters tall
concrete walls were. He had literally spent nights digging a tunnel just to get into
the forbidden land. The land was guarded 24/7 by the flying Eyes, and the only
gateway was exclusive to the pious followers. There must have been an extreme
cost associated with the construction of this bizarre architecture, who knows what
kind of extravagance the corrupt people inside are having.
…
Lanterns around ANON started moving steadily, rhythmically, unemotionally. He’s
surrounded. From the shimmers, ANON could tell there might be more Eyes than
he imagined. There’s no point in returning. To his surprise, the Godfather was here
as well. The man gave an order and darts started raining from above.
The darts hit ANON and immediately took effect, triggering his memories of all the
times he’d ever given thought to suicide. He had always longed for death. When
ANON was young, he used to wonder how it would feel if he were to suffocate
himself with a piece of transparent plastic bag. It might have been a deep breath,
another one, gradually less, ‘til he ran out of oxygen. He might have stuck his head
out of the car on a highway during a family road trip. The last thing he saw would be
an approaching truck.
He might as well jump down from a residential building and let go of his ability to
think before his body landed somewhere below. It might be a Saturday noon. Kids
would have been running around in the playground. He surely wouldn’t want
them to be traumatized by his pallid white body. That would have been the last
way he wanted to leave this place.
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