I had a choice of either that, or mandatory voluntary euthanasia.
I know it’s selfish, but I’ve always wanted to travel, so I chose relocation.
I liked it in the city, the drones, the safe injection rooms, the drag queen parades.
But the government said my apartment is to be given over to migrants.
I don’t mind, I didn’t own it anyway, it was on stolen land.
They say I stole it, but I can’t remember doing that, I ask them for forgiveness every day.
They said I have to pay a stolen land tax, so I do, I even pay a little bit more than I should.
I wish I never stole it. I regret doing that.
But now I’m off to some remote place. Out in the middle of nowhere.
I’m still on the train, the officer said it was okay for me to write something independently for 15 minutes.
So long as he reads it before I send it off to the Truth Telling Commission.
Then it’s back to the preapproved TikTok’s.
The wind in my hair feels great, the clouds streaking across the starry sky, all in straight crisscrossed lines, beautiful.
A fresh metallic smell in the air.
I’m glad I’m being forcibly relocated.
This train ride makes me feel so free.
Alex James.