I am undone. My former English teacher (lately disguised as 002 -a code I now use to substitute the obvious) had deposited an iPad size box labeled DRONEXIT#1 with me in my vault and instructed me to guard with my life. She attends German class, registers herself with virtual addresses in famous cosmopolitan cities round the globe, orders her suits from Paris online, wears a blond wig, uses substitutes from Chinese words for endearing terms normally used between family members, attends underground church cell group, says soundless grace before meals with open eyes and claims now she is cosmopolitan and inclusive. She is really doing fine as a MT2 wannabe.
But I am stuck with the box in my vault. What is inside it? Why is she hiding it from the politically correct elite media drones? I have come down with insomnia. Nightly I sit inside the closet (which houses a secret door to a secret passage to my underground vault) and try to shut my mind from worries. What if she keeps some stuff inside that proves she is a mother or worse, I am one? No one will believe me that I can never be one nowadays with all sorts of advance technology for all sorts to become a mother. The what ifs are driving me into all kinds of scary and nerve shattering imaginations. What with the technology nowadays anyone can prove anything of any innocent person. Alas. Woe. Woe. Woe.
Ahem, I am not born to be treated in this inhuman manner. I did not ask to be born to be a human to see this day of doom for human family ways and godly values being stolen, killed and destroyed by aliens. What shall a human be if his or her ordinary humanness is belittled, ridiculed, trampled upon and forbidden?
I therefore make a resolution to henceforth spend more time looking for the remotest corner on earth. Yes, I shall also register myself with virtual addresses. No, not in cities. I shall become a citizen of the provincial poor and not-tech-know.