This place is a desert for the mind, void of emotion and errant thought, no real thinking, at least. It's no surprise, most minds here have long since atrophied from lack of use. They wait in flat line for the next rushing jolt of synthetic stimulation. The real world can't compare, even if we're allowed to. Contemplating the real world leads to seeing the world for what it is, a prison. A cell for the mind, body and soul. All my life I've been a prisoner, cowering at the idea that I might be capable of unique thought. Terrified of what my own instincts might lead to. So how can I blame them? But it hasn't always been this way. I've heard rumors. Filtered. Distant. Fading. But I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid. I seek to know the truth.