Letter to F4B14N II

Terracon Inc. State Printing center
At The Source, May the 25th 221st year a.F.
Content auditted and approved by civil servant: ID 4475 7368 6261 67
Content author: EXT S4MU3L 4M1D4S

Hi F4B14N.

I am beginning to worry about your health, I have not received any response from your side since the last week. It would be naïve of me to assume that my letters are arriving to your hands. Sometimes I forget that I am in this sty and that the delivery could suffer some delay. Living here is being a… let’s call it revealing experience. It is true what some people say, there is nothing like leaving your homeland to value it.

I finally had a meeting with the city governor two days ago, a guy named R1P10. The talk was really uncomfortable during the hour he granted me, in many ways. The guy suffered from some kind of muscular disease or malformation which prevents him from walking without help; all his articulations are twisted, like in constant tension, and he needs his 2 slaves to remain standing. I wonder how somebody like him was able to reach such social position, I suspect there is some kind of kinship with the governing class. But his unpredictable spasms and the continuous assistance his slaves dedicated to him were not the reasons of my restlessness (although I needed God’s help to keep looking into his eyes when some bits of spittle came out of his mouth), it was not because of his exterior but because of his interior. If he looked like a twisted root on the outside, inside he was like a sea urchin: dark, harmful, poisonous and insignificant at the same time. How could such a dependent person develop that sadistic personality? I lost count of how many times he punished his slaves in front of me after the ninth or the tenth time, all of them due to ridiculous reasons such as not bringing the cup of peppermint infusion closer to his lips when he was thirsty, without having expressed such need verbally at any time. You have to be wondering how did he punished them if he could barely control his own body; he ordered them to stab a short punch in the other’s ribs, depending on whose turn was it to receive. And it was not enough to hear the punished’s grunts of pain, he had to watch it, they had to do it in front of him. The way he talked, even to me, was authoritarian and contemptuous, always looking down on me like if he lived in a constant revenge against every life form. However, that irritating tone changed suddenly when he received a call by a wireless telephone that one of the slaves quickly brought closer to his ear. I deduced it was an ex-president from his words, one of those who belong to the triumvirate that appears on the local currency, whom the governor seemed to fear and to respect as if he was God. I would lie if I said I did not find this change of attitude repulsive; all that guy needed was to brush the ground with his expensive clothes while he talked, nodding continuously, apologizing for some bad decisions he made as he was always pampering him. He was so cloying that I heard how his lord shut him up with a shout, making one of his never-ending adulation bursts stop instantly. I looked at the faces of the slaves with the aim of transmitting them my sympathy, but they avoided my eyes; I guess they already got a stab for something similar in the past.

I left the place at a fast pace, shaking off like if I emerged from the snow, once that absurd person granted me permission to enter the Subdistricts and evaluate the structure. I really needed to get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth so I visited one of the beautiful churches they conserve (their facades are in a very good state, in contrast to all the buildings that were close to). There I prayed for some minutes along with a priest and I went directly to a brothel. The services they offer here are very basic compared to the Diamond Powder, there are small rooms only, but the bitches are cheaper and more creative. Have you ever been masturbated with two cunts at the same time, scissoring? I did not know that something like that was even possible.

Once I restored my spirit and after drinking a pair of “poitins” (a liquor they distil in this zone), I walked back to my guesthouse with the intention of sleeping. I stopped first in a food house, a kind of stand the State uses for rationing the available foodstuff, assigning daily quotas to the inhabitants. The ration cost the double of money because I do not have the barcode they use to tattoo on the newborns. I am not sure the state law says that, surely they take it as a bribery included in the price for us, the stupid foreigners. Soup of beans in a wet cardboard box fully covered with adhesive tape, there was nothing better. I forgot about my cutlery too, so I had to use my right hand as spoon. When I arrived to the guesthouse, I surprised a boy trying to force the lock of my apartment. What a service of surveillance! I hit him with a stone from a long distance and he ran away. I have to get a local license to buy a gun.

Yesterday I entered the Subdistricts for the first time and what I saw there was shocking, I would have never imagined that. I will tell you more details in my next letter.

I am looking forward to getting news about you. Give P4TR1C14 my regards and tell her I miss her. And for God’s sake, burn this paper.

End of the printing – Page 1/1

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