
03-18-2010, 01:19 PM
Inclusive Outcasts
He walked down the halls of an old building where nothing great ever seemed to happen. People moved from one place to another like robots, and those who didn’t move like them were punished. A place where rules ran everything and a society, that without such structure, would collapse as if it had not previously. A place of renamed slavery, where no one wanted to be, yet where everyone existed. For years they’d been there and for years they would remain. Life in this building was scarce. It was chased out and became almost a myth. A fantasy. Lack of entertainment is what began the false replacement. Since none of these robots know what real excitement was, they failed at replicating such emotion along with other emotions, like love. The robots have made the emotion meaningless because of their horrible copy which is now mistaken as the real deal. The only thing that ever seemed to change were the stories, which were again all the same except for the names. Every piece of drama, just as worthless as the first. Every moment wasted, with many more to waste. These robots are trained by the fancy ones. The simply copy. Nothing original comes from anywhere anymore. Everything is replicated. Everything is fake.
They all stare at him like he’s a monster. In their morphed, replicated minds, that is what he is. Him, and all like him. They are different, they are weird, they are monsters. In a world where everyone wants to be the same, those who swim against the current are beat down. Prejudiced and wrongly named, the few like him stand secluded, yet inclusive. Anyone like them is automatically part of them. Anyone with them is automatically accepted.
He is joined by his fellow outcasts. Non-conformist. Unique. Yet, within themselves the same. A minority of the different. A group that doesn’t feel as if it needs to be constantly strong, relies on others for the strength they don’t contain. A community linked like the webs on their legs. What is more likely to stand against a falling brick? Pieces of wood, taller than they are thick, lined up in neat little rows or an intricate web of rope suspended just above the ground. Wood falls over. A web will give in slightly before regaining ground to push the brick the other way. People talk about how they can be in a crowd of people and feel as lonely as ever. They stand as a single piece of wood. No connections yet millions of other pieces surround them.
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