The Test

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Your computer is ok. The culprit is another.

Outside, the siren song of the car alarm is met by the siren song of an ice cream truck.

A further crime against humanity: day in and day out the truck makes its way around the street slums playing the familiar loop of a happy keyboard -over and over and over and over and over into the façades. And as it fades there into the dust, there is the fading in of yet another in the family of Mexican car alarms.
A helicopter encircles for hours, from which a white mans voice can be heard in English through a loudspeaker, ‘Stay in your houses,’ and neglects to annouce when it is safe to go back outside; so I am writing you from a Mexican, American run prison…

And the car alarm is of the cheap kind unmistakable by the tone of its whining, and likely to be to the car that no one would want to drive.

In this predominately Hispanic neighborhood, the ice cream truck driver stops the truck, but not the theme song, as it lures apartment complexes full of overgrown children, gape-faced the children who run to meet him. Singing dancing in the children’s heads, thoughts of sugar and milk, chocolate and cream bodhisattvas…

And the reason I have forgone nirvana was to stop the dizzying affect.

Children play in the sunny day Saturday afternoon, but they know not of what they are subject to. They cry and cry as the baby does, before the intolerable silence, trying hard not to forget that sedateness is kicking in.
Unmanageable and pleading as it is, ‘Whhyyyyy!! Whhhyyyyy!! Not these people!! Non Quiero Los Vostros Daggers!’

Cries of hysteria rip through and torture, erotic as tasting one’s own blood, but soon enough the sound of the ice cream truck will fodder, and the thought to children’s lips, the serenity of paps to another round of oyster bashing.

Many people cry, ‘Revolution!’
But when it comes knocking, they do not open their door…

‘And remember comrades….your resolution must never falter. No argument must lead you astray. Never listen when they tell you that Man and the animals have a common interest, that the properity of the one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the interests of no creature except himself. And among us animals let there be perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle. All men are enemies. All animals are comrades.’
At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major was speaking, four large rats had crept out of their holes and were sitting on their hind quarters, listening to him. The dogs had suddenly caught sight of them, and it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the rats saved their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence.
‘Comrades,’ he said, ‘here is a point that must be settled. The wild creatures, such as rats and rabbits-are they our friends or our enemies? Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats comrades?’
The vote was raken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming majority that rats were comrades. There were only four dissentients, the three dogs and the cat, who was afterwards discovered to have voted on both sides.

- excerpt from Animal Farm