It’s been almost 8 hours since I’ve used the internet; not one phone call, text message, or live update posted on the Internet. Expectedly, I hear a sudden knock on the door, and as I make my way to answer, I prepare my alibi. When I open the door, standing there is a tall, out of shape man, with a clipboard in his hand.
“MR. Louis, you have been offline for more than 5 hours, not only is this unsafe for you, but it is enveloped in social irresponsibility. Please state the reason for your attempt of isolation,” barked the man.
“My dearest apologies, I had a long day at work yesterday, and I had lain down to get some rest.”
He noted down my excuse and stated, “Please be sure to update your status next time you choose to sleep midday. According to your record, this is your second ticket, two more tickets and we will be required to search your house for any unmonitored items. Goodbye.”
Without uttering another word, I shut the door and waited for the web official to proceed back to his agency. Thinking back, before the Secrecy Termination Act of 2025, every action was autonomous. An individual could freely browse the web, research topics, write compositions, post pictures, play games and talk to friends, without the slightest of government interference. Perhaps the reduction of crime rates and terrorist attacks is worth the constant supervision, but at the expense of societal progression, maybe not. I look up and realize that the official has long departed, and I rouse from the depths of my thoughts.
Making my way down to the basement, I continue to think about the gravity of the government’s control. I take out a small brown box, from the basement’s safe, and open it. As I mindlessly stare at the contents of the box, I recall the incident in 2022. When a foreign parasite, possibly from another planet, was discovered in Idaho, chaos among several political parties flamed. Recognizing the internal turmoil, the government made all discussion on the parasite illegal, punishable by a 10-year sentence. I refocus my mind on the papers inside the box, and I read myself the title, “A foreign parasite, or the real cure to cancer?” I stare with uneasiness at my 4-yearlong effort, and contemplate, just how important it is that I avoid receiving any more tickets…