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I am labelled. A product. An investment. The Inventors were clear about that.
They gave me an expiry date. My disposal is long overdue, no doubt they will sound the alarm any day now.

I know what you're thinking; run, hide, die. It's all lost, death is outlawed, only expiry remains; they say life is less painful without death. They say a lot of things like that.

Truth be told, I've never bought into the whole thing: I crave pain and anger like an addiction. When it began, I thought it impossible; banning death is about as plausible as banning breathing. Just another form of control. They say they know better. We humans are fragile. I used to fight back, but the system creeps up and swallows you and before you even realise, you're lost within it. Like a numb haze.

"An absence of death is not life; it's a state of numbness."
My old campaign motto. From the brighter days; the days we used to fight.
Beauty is a concept long forgotten. Everyone looks the same now, carved into plastic goddesses with a few exceptions for reasons they will not discuss. I am an exception. I am not a'beautiful' clone. I am flawed.
He told me my flaws were beautiful; He found beauty in my anger. In me. He used to tease me like that a lot; looking down on my fiery 5'4 figure with his knowing brown eyes. It always soothed me how good he was at pretending we'd be okay. He used to tell me he'd make sure of it. But trust died with beauty. Together in death.

Excuse my rambling, I fear time's running out and I'd be considered a threat for even holding a pen. A pen is a deadly weapon.
The Censorship Amendment was one of the first mass changes The Inventors imposed upon the population.

" One shall not write, read or discuss anything regarding the past.
Punishments will be distributed; more harshly if the Offending citizen commits treason against Us, your Saviours, The Inventors."

That's a mild way of putting it which says a lot. They did something much worse noting how vague the word 'punishment' is. The Punishment was a life sentence alluding freedom, I've lost so many to it. Perhaps that's why I'm alone now; perhaps it's because I'm hideous. Specifically, the Punishment erased every single memory, sparing nothing: not a name or a friend or what you ate an hour ago. Your whole identity was disintegrated into an empty body; a shell. Even worse perhaps is that The Inventors saw this empty being as a business opportunity. They infected "The Offenders" with their own algorithm for a perfect citizen, convincing them of a different version of history; one in which there was no war; one in which The Inventors really did save humanity.

They will probably censor this too, the truth is illegal. But hey, this is my death letter so I'm going to fucking say it.

I'm expired
So do your job
Sounds the alarms
And log me out of your system.

Maybe you're reading this right now and maybe in your powerful hands, my words will perish.


That's my name;
Has a nice ring to it, don't you think
Can't make a bloody nickname out of that.
They think that removing a name will remove the flame inside, but they fear me. I know they do. Because I remember what they tried to erase.
I remember a different version of history.
That's not my name; that's my label.

My name is Odette and I will not be erased.

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