ESCAPE FROM MEDIA PRISON

Three months on the run following my escape. Hiding places are few. The airports are swarming with media-bots....television screens, ads, and cellphones. Slurking from town to town on dusty dark roads, slowed by a few remaining chains...remnants of Media Prison. Billboards and electronic digital signs scan the main roads for any attempted escapees. Restaurants and bars are sure places to avoid. On my seventh pair of ear-plugs, which sometimes cause ear-aches, but nothing compared to the pain in Media Prison. The daily beatings and routine rapes, the media pimps on the prowl for more meat, the wealth of internal crime upon humanity.....all these sought to murder my Self.

And out here who can be trusted?......not taxis, not buses, not trains, not those who offer me a ride. Not even home. All these are sectors of Media Prison. The maniacal obsessive search for information has imprisoned so many. Billions imprisoned as Media Prison adds more walls to freedom.

During these three months my health has improved tremendously. That horrible aching....the incessant addictive need to know the latest....has dissipated. And it feels great! Ridding my Self of Media memories is more difficult. The scars are deep. The damn-age still burns.

Resting now on soft sand.... my back to a cliff, my face to an open ocean....I wonder. Will Media Prison find me? Will I become tired of running, and turn my Self over to the dogs, the bright search lights, the never ending beatings from Information, the Media Prison bosses and thugs, and to the mercy of the billions of inmates in Media Prison??

I shiver, and close my eyes.