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[an error occurred while processing this directive] Wow, I haven't written for the longest time. I was walking by the hype just this morning. On yet another hype run for those invalids in our office. The line up was long, like normal. It's always long. Hype rules us all. On the way back to the tower, I passed by the gates of hyperion. Peddlers galore. Ironic that these people of intense poverty flock around a place of intense wealth. What, do they think those doors will open and money will come flooding out? These people are messed. Anyway, there was this kid there. Holding this book I'm writing in. Trying to sell it, and not knowing what it was. The loser probably just stole it from some rich man's flat. Yeah, but it had something about it. It was a book, the kind that you hear about in fairy tails and shit like that. The kind that you only see on museums on leave days. Something you could write in without worrying about audits or clearances. So I bought it. Yanked out my unicard and transferred him 45 credits for it. Poor bastard, he headed straight for the hype machine. Within 5 minutes he got what he wanted. Until tomorrow. When he'll just steal something from someone else just to get his daily fixation of hype. So here I am, writing. It's funny how you still remember how to write, after years of not doing it. Even though they want you to forget, you still manage to remember. Makes you feel good. You're revolting in your own little way. Going against the stablishment. Every little disobedience is a small victory for yourself. Damn them. Someone is at my door.

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