Hey Man!

     'She's been through the mill. Twelve years of it, not counting her home life, twelve years of sitting in rows wishing she were somewhere else, wishing she were free, wishing it was later in the day, later in the year, later in her life when at long last her time -her life- would be her own. Moment after moment she wishes this. She wishes it day after day, year after year, until -and this was the point all along- she ceases anymore to wish at all (except to wish her body looked like those in the magazines, and to wish she had more money to buy things she hopes will for at least that one sparkling moment of purchase take away the ache she never lets herself feel), until she has become subservient, docile, domestic. Until her will -what's that?- has been broken. Until rebellion against the system comes to consist of yet more purchasing -don't you love those ads conflating alcohol consumption (purchased, of course, from major corporations) and rebelliousness?- or of nothing at all, until rebellion, like will, simply ceases to exist. Until the last vestiges of the wildness and freedom that are her birthright -as they are the birthright of every animal, plant, rock, river, piece of ground, breath of wind- have been worn or torn away.
     Free will at this point becomes almost meaningless, because by now victims participate of their own free will-having long since lost touch with what free will might be. Indeed, they can be said to no longer have any meaningful will at all. Thier will has been broken. Of course. That's the point. Now, they are workers. They are productive members of this great and benevolent structure of civilization that brings good to all it touches. They are happy, even if this happiness requires routine chemical assistance. There is no longer any need for force, because the people- or more precisely those who were once people- have been fully metabolized into the system, have become self-regulating, self-policing.
     Welcome to the end of the world.'