Gods of Speech
By R.W. Taylor
()
About this ebook
A totalitarian regime known as the Great Public Unity has taken over western academia. Now, it's coming for the political sphere. Professor Adderson is a clinical psychologist and ethics professor in the Northwestern Province, American fourth district. He's a moderate. He has friends of different political affiliations, religions. He's always tried to see the people behind the ideals, even if he's failed at times. He's always tried to be courteous. Perhaps that's been his biggest failing. He's acquiesced for too long. He's lived a quiet, thoughtful life, driven by a genuine desire to investigate and transcend his presuppositions. He's hoped to pass wisdom to the younger generation, but now there's the revolution. It's made him angry. Brought in noise and chaos. Perhaps old age has caused him to become foolish in the face of it all. Obstinate.
For the Unity, obstinacy will not be tolerated. They have an inflexible agenda spelled out in the Statement of the Great Public Unity. It reads:
"This is the Statement of the Great Public Unity. We, the guardians of the civil interest, do declare our Impeccable Construct as a resolute guide for all people within the Secure World. There is no truth, only power. There is no morality, only constructs.
There is no history, only narrative. Safety prevails over freedom. Conformity prevails over disagreements. Politeness prevails over incorrectness. In service of the collective, We aim to abolish obstinacy. We aim to abolish unsound speech. We aim to abolish harmful assumptions. In service of these aims, all citizens are earnestly requested to: Wear preferred name and pronoun tags. Greet all with a smile and a pre-approved address. Promote wonderful outcomes."
Welcome to the end of western civilization.
~Short Read
Style: third person, present
---------
Categories: dystopian science fiction, science fiction tragedy, short political thriller
R.W. Taylor
Cross-genre writer R.W. Taylor likes to write...a lot. Think twelve hour days with a good-old fashion notebook and pencil—yes, that's how he prefers it—although he uses a laptop, too...sometimes. He's most at peace when he's diving deep and getting lost in the act of creation. He prefers writing science fiction and romance, but he's written political thrillers, erotica, poetry (bad poetry), and even a 50,000-word survival-lite fiction novel that may or may not ever see the light of day. He likes to experiment with styles and voices. He loves sharpening his skills through practice and experimentation. Short stories, novellas, novels; different tenses; serious stuff; light-hearted stuff; you name it. He likes to write about unique, imperfect characters who pull at your heartstrings because...they bleed. Or maybe one day he'll write about a perfect character with no flaws, or better yet, the most perfect character ever. When he's not writing, he works as a nobody associate at a secret chain store...somewhere in the universe. He also likes naps, because, who doesn't like naps? And he likes his wife, Yeli Tige, too. She's pretty cool. Wait; scratch that. She's really cool. Without her, R.W.'s writing would have never come to be. Probably because he's a perfectionist and she's always telling him not to throw stuff away. Of reader interest: The two of them are currently working on a science fiction romance series. Let's see, what else? Right! Chocolate. R.W. Taylor likes chocolate. Lots of it. He can't write without it. Brain food 101. So you can thank chocolate, too.
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Gods of Speech - R.W. Taylor
Chapter One
SECONDS, MINUTES, HOURS. How long has it been? Seconds...minutes...hours. For Professor Adderson, time has become insubstantial. How long, he wonders, how long since he got here? For the thousandth time, his head lulls and he slips into near black-out. A jolt brings him back. We earnestly request you stay awake, Professor Adderson,
a voice says. Modulated. Nondescript but for a hint of mockery. Your Encouraging is still in progress.
Encouraging...Encouraging. He knows that word, but how? He's strapped to a chair. No light. Nearly everything has lost its meaning. He tries to look and see what's around him. His throat is dry, and lips feel as if they've been glued together. His consciousness has become a fragment of the past. For an eternity, images have bombarded his mind. He remembers every single one of them. They've overwhelmed him. Swept him away. Reduced him to almost nothing. This must be what dying feels like.
At a given moment, his head lulls again. Another jolt courses through him. This time it's more intense. Pain causes his eyes to peel wide open. He realizes he's in a black room. Mid-sized. Square. Its only light source is a giant, pale white O
hanging on the far wall. If he knows anything, he knows that shape, that symbol. It is that of the Great Public Unity.
Vague notions are triggered. He suddenly wonders if he was brought here for committing civil disobedience. He wonders if there's a revolution going on in the outer world. He wonders if he's in a Sincerity Chamber. He wonders if what's in front of him is called an Encouraging Box—a square hole in the floor—and beyond it, on the other side of the room, he wonders about those who judge. They sit in a row, wearing black, smiling masks. Aren't they called the Caregivers? Why does he wonder these things?
Professor Adderson,
one of them says. Modulated voice. We kindly ask you to...let us encourage. Let us encourage.
No.
He fights. The he that remains resists like a hard, raw material ground down but not quite obliterated yet.
Yes, Professor Adderson. Do not be obstinate.
One of them presses a button. A vast screen appears before him. The room disappears, replaced by flashing images. He knows them intimately. The pale white O of the Great Public Unity. A crowd. A military parade. The scene encompasses him. Now he hears things. Music.