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Everyone was asleep when it happened. Not that it mattered. People simply don't care about politics anymore, not enoug to actually know what's going on. These days we're more interested in the popularity contest at election time, we all get riled up for a month or two and then go back to sleep, and dream that we live a perfectly happy existence in our little bubbles. We see no further than our own existence, so ow can we possibly be expected to care about the dealings of the ruling classes? We merely chose the person who's pen nailed the lid of our coffin down, we didn't care what size or colour the coffin is. And in our sleep, the last breaths of freedom pass, and we awoke in the blackness of our new existence - trapped by the world created for us. All of this was done in our name.

It was November, not long after the dawn of the second millennium when it started. A cold and hard day saw the world's leaders traveling past the people who put them on their pedestals, although few of them cared to look down from their vantage point. They had risen beyond that. The petty squabblings of the masses mattered not, only the 'big issue' - the one which would eventually kill us all. Dusk settled the winds as the stretched cars pulled in to the hotel, surrounded by men in dark suits with blacked out eyes, staring forward without seeing. Beyond them were men is casual clothes with a finger to their ear, listening for instructions to kill anyone looking suspicious. There would be no remorse given, not for this meeting. This was too important to take any chances. This meeting would decide a strategy which would stabilise the economy on a global scale, providing everyone with the means to live, love and succeed. Or at least, on paper that is what they were attempting. In reality, this was a meeting which would hammer home policies which would push the world's poor into debt, poverty and eventual starvation. And once this process had begun, the wealth of the world would continuously gather at the top, pushing more and more people into doomed spiral of debt until only a tiny fraction of the world's population remained.

We were the last of the working class, the last remnants of society forced to harvest crops to feed our masters. Forced to clean their homes and work their machines. We were controlled entirely by the same suited men who had stood fast to ensure nothing interfered with our fate. We had no freedom, all we had was time owed to pay for the pathetic lives we led. When

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