“I haven’t got a speech, I didn’t plan words, I didn’t even try to, I just knew I had to get here, to stand here and I knew I wanted you to listen, to really listen. Not just pull a face like you’re listening, like you do the rest of the time, a face that you’re feeling instead of processing.
“You pull a face and poke it towards the stage, and we lah-di-dah, we sing and dance and tumble around. And all you see up here, it’s not people, you don’t see people up here, it’s all fodder. And the faker the fodder, the more you love it, because fake fodder’s the only thing that works any more. Fake fodder is all we can stomach. Actually, not quite all; real pain, real viciousness, that, we can take.”
“Yeah, stick a fat man up a pole and we’ll laugh ourselves feral, because we’ve earned the right. We’ve done cell time and he’s slacking, the scum, so ha-ha-ha at him! Because we’re so out of our minds with desperation, we don’t know any better. All we know is fake fodder and buying shit. That’s how we speak to each other, how we express ourselves is buying shit.”
“What, I have a dream? The peak of our dreams is a new app for our Dopple, it doesn’t exist! It’s not even there! We buy shit that’s not even there. Show us something real and free and beautiful. You couldn’t. Yeah? It’ll break us. We’re too numb for it. I might as well choke. There’s only so much wonder we can bear. That’s why when you find any wonder whatsoever, you dole it out in meagre portions.”
“And only then until it’s augmented, and packaged, and plumped through 10,000 pre-assigned filters till it’s nothing more than a meaningless series of lights, while we ride day in day out, going where? Powering what? All tiny cells and tiny screens and bigger cells and bigger screens and fuckk you!”
“Fuckk you, that’s what it boils down to. It’s fuckk you. Fuck you for sitting there and slowly making things worse. Fuckk you and your spotlight and your sanctimonious faces. Fuckk you all for taking the one thing I ever came close to anything real that every meant anything. For oozing around it and crushing it into a bone, into a joke. One more ugly joke in a kingdom of millions. Fuckk you for happening. Fuckk you for me, for us, for everyone. Fuck you!”