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| The Man, the Meme... |
Wojak, a man in his late thirties, led a rather unremarkable life. He worked hard every day, paid his bills, and kept to himself. He was a pale, bald man with a nondescript appearance that made him blend in with the crowd. However, there was something peculiar about the people he encountered every day. They all seemed to behave in the same way, almost like mindless drones, with no individuality or personality of their own. Wojak referred to them as NPCs or non-playable characters. They had hollow features; gray faces, pointy noses, and a blank, emotionless expression that never changed. Wojak felt something strange was going on, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
One day, he was at a party, everyone at the party was happy and having fun, but Wojak wasn't. "I'm hungry, my feet hurt, I wish I was at home, playing video games." he said. He didn't feel so swift, like he was out-of-place or he didn't belong at the party, so he left the party after dark.
As Wojak strolled through the city, the air thick with the scent of damp concrete and rotting garbage, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. The world around him seemed like a giant, meticulously crafted façade, designed to keep him oblivious and content. He scanned the faces of the people he passed, their expressions vacant and their movements robotic, as if they were all mere marionettes being directed by an unseen hand. It was as if he were the only person in the city who could see through the charade.
His steps lead him to a secluded alleyway, where he found himself drawn to a mysterious figure lurking in the shadows. The figure, clad in a tattered brown trench coat and sporting an unsettling grin, seemed to be beckoning him closer. Intrigued and yet apprehensive, Wojak approached cautiously.
"You there, friend," the figure said in a raspy voice, "you've got the look of someone who knows something is amiss. Tell me, do you want to know the truth?" Wojak hesitated, his heart racing, as he stared into the man's piercing emerald eyes. It was as if the figure could see right through him, reading his innermost thoughts and desires.
"Yes," Wojak managed to croak, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to know the truth." The figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to be a strange-looking man with a head of a frog and smooth green skin that seemed bizarre and surreal. He reached out a gnarled hand and took Wojak's, squeezing it tightly.
"Then listen closely, my young friend," he said, his voice like the rustling of leaves in an autumn wind. "Everything you know, everything you see, everything you believe... it's all a lie."
Wojak felt as if the world had been turned upside down. His heart raced, his stomach churned, and his vision blurred as the reality he'd known crumbled before his eyes. The frog continued, his words like arrows piercing Wojak's soul. "The economy, the jobs, the television, even the happiness you think you feel... it's all an illusion, a grand deception designed to keep you complacent and obedient."
The truth was too much for Wojak to bear. He felt as if he'd been living a lie his entire life, and the weight of that realization was crushing him. He staggered back, his eyes filling with tears, unable to comprehend the enormity of what he'd just been told. The green-clad figure watched him silently, his emerald eyes boring into Wojak's very soul.
"Why?" Wojak managed to choke out. "Why would they do this to us?" The frog's expression softened, and he placed a gentle hand on Wojak's shoulder.
"Because we are but pawns in a game far greater than we can ever imagine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And as long as we remain unaware, they will continue to use us and discard us at will. It is up to you, my young friend, to decide whether you will remain a puppet or break free from your chains and fight for the truth."
With those words, the strange creature disappeared into the shadows, leaving Wojak alone with his thoughts and the haunting truth he'd just discovered. His world had been shattered, and he knew that he could never go back to the way things were before. The question now was what he would do with this newfound knowledge. Would he continue to live a lie, or would he risk everything to fight for the truth?
As Wojak wandered aimlessly through the city, his mind spinning with the implications of what he'd been told, he couldn't help but notice the subtle ways the illusion was maintained. The bright lights and flashy advertisements that lined the streets, the cheerful songs on the radio, the constant stream of news stories designed to distract and pacify. It all seemed so clear now, like a veil had been lifted from his eyes.
He found himself drawn to a nearby park, where he sat on a weathered bench and watched the people go by. They were all so content, so oblivious to the machinations that kept them trapped in this false reality. It was heartbreaking, infuriating, and yet somehow strangely liberating. For the first time in his life, Wojak felt as if he truly understood the world around him.
As the sun began to set, casting the city in a warm, golden light, Wojak made a decision. He would not be a pawn anymore. He would fight for the truth, no matter the cost. With renewed determination, he rose from the bench and began his journey, unsure of where it would lead him, but certain that he was finally taking the first steps toward freedom.
Story & Art by Æ Firestone
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