Hi. I want to tell you a little bit about myself. It might help. I’m a prison warden. I’m also a prisoner, sentenced to spend the rest of my life in this black hole. You must be wondering how I can be both of these things at once. Well, humans aren’t only one thing. We are complex hybrids of different ideals, philosophies and experiences. We are made of ironies and inexplicable paradoxes. I built this prison for myself, and you were there too, beside me. You picked up a brick and placed it on the mortar, and then you did it again. And again. And again. I did it too. Everyone did it. We influenced each other until eventually it became normal. Now the prison has been erected and I’m locked in. You’re also locked in, in the cell next to mine. I can’t remember how many days I’ve been in here because I lost count. It’s been a very long time, though. I’m sure of that. It’s been long since I had any kind of freedom. I only remember what it feels like to some extent. My recollection fades with every passing moment spent in here. It worries me. I really want to get out of this place.
The black hole has been growing bigger and bigger as the number of inmates increases. It’s awful. All things come to die here. Dreams and aspirations. Imagination. Innovation. Individuality. Realness. Passion. This black hole is ruthless and does not discriminate. It sucks everything up in this never-ending spiral of destruction. It doesn’t care who you are or where you come from and that might be the only thing I can tolerate about it. In the cell opposite mine sits a world-famous international corporation executive. Adjacent to him is the shopkeeper from down the road. Then there’s me, and many others like me, and many others like them. The somebodies and the nobodies eat from the same pot here. I’m in chains; you’re in chains too. I’m starting to see that Asa was right.
The messed up thing is, the people on the outside don’t know how easy it is to end up here. Just pay too much attention to everything that they tell you, and before you know it you’ll be behind bars in the new block. The prison doesn’t stop growing. I should explain how I (and the others) got here. I listened to the voices. I believed in all the ads on TV and in magazines. I bought everything they said I couldn’t do without. I paid attention when they said I had to be a certain way. I stopped thinking. Listen, this is the best way to single-handedly ruin things for yourself. The moment you stop thinking, you sell your biggest and most important asset to greedy industries and people that will snatch you up and make a puppet of you. The gag is, most of the time, they’re imprisoned too. But they don’t know. It’s much worse when you don’t know that you’re in chains because you have no chance of ever getting out of them.
One might think that I’d have escaped from this place by now. It’s not so simple when you’re the prison warden as well. Constantly preventing yourself from being free . . .trapped in systems and the status quo all the while underestimating your power; our power. We’re crippled by our insecurities and uncertainties hold us back. Most of us in here aren’t sure how to stop, how to break free. But I foresee a revolution; things are changing. We’re relearning how to think, and our vision has become clearer. We’re re-dreaming old dreams and reinventing things. Ourselves, even. Don’t be surprised when we finally break out of here. I have no qualms about it. I have only this to implore of you: Don’t stop thinking. Don’t stop asking questions. Don’t get lost in the noise. At least try.