Mr Heart’s death was no surprise. His neighbors, his friends, his coworkers, they all knew this day would come: either he’d end up dead, or she would. The fact the temporary win was hers would prove to be more than mildly ironic. She, without him, could not function. She would crumble, decay and eventually vanish without a trace.
Such a waste.
“Two thousand years ago, you have created us,” I began, surprised to hear my own voice echo in the small room. The men stared at me, some in evident confusion, some in raging anger. I was making no sense to them, and yet I continued with conviction to tell them my tale. “You have made knowledge your enemy,” I continued, speaking more to myself than to any of them, “and, back then, for the first time in human history, knowledge fought back. We have been fighting back for ages since, never letting you win.”
Once, there were a million voices
they were bound together by the power of a million
they were part of a nation, they were one,
one million
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