ITT I predict your thought crimes

Will I go out in a blaze of glory protecting one of the oldest churches in the United States? I firmly draw the line at religious freedom. Anyone who thinks themselves above God is surely headed for destruction.
 
Honestly, probably something boring like referring to my old acquaintance from my college days by her natal pronouns one time too many on purpose. Realistically though, if we get to thoughtcrime levels of clownworld, I will probably have already been executed for actual crimes.
You return home after a 24 hour shift, KlausDay is coming up and everyone has to chip in. The television has turned itself on and showing Emperor Biden's 150th State of the Union. His skin looks almost transparent and his eyes don't focus on the same place. IV lines peek out from under the podium. You roll your eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, the televisions have been upgraded. Emperor Biden, his sight now infinite and knowledge endless, sees your insolence. His soulless eyes look through you and you pass out. You awake briefly as you feel sharp claws shatter your skull at its base.
I am going to be the ideologue of a revolutionary movement.
In a pile of trash at the street corner where you scrounge for breakfast you find a cassette player and two limp bizkit tapes. You bring these back to your hovel and spend your entire week's power allotment playing them on repeat. It's a strange, titillating sensation, hearing music without seeing a charge against your bank account. You save so much on bandwidth that week you even call your mother.
An RIAA agent rappels down from a silent black helicopter and rips your still beating heart from your chest. On the open market it will sell for just enough to cover the millions of dollars in losses the recording industry just incurred.
Kash me outside!
Homeless, you have taken on a contract as a mobile wifi hotspot. They stitch a transmitter to the base of your spine (to prevent theft). The graveyard shift pays 1/100th ETH premium, you gladly agree. It's an ordinary night. The sky is a featureless grey and the air has its usual metallic tinge. There's a man at an otherwise empty crosswalk. He offers you a cigarette. You look around, and seeing no one gladly accept, it has been years since you've even seen one. The moment the filter touches your lips an EPA drone materializes above you, the air crackling as the active camouflage dissipates. You try to run, but midway through your second stride the Asset Protection Device in the hotspot detonates, severing your spine.





I have to log off for a few days b/c of wagecuckery but I WILL be back and I will continue to pierce the veil. No fortunes left behind, like G. W. Bush said.
 
I really like your avatar. Tell me my future please.
You find a bible in an old chest of drawers. Spurred on by the only print media you've ever seen, you join your local Vatican III Catholic church. You realize something is amiss the moment you walk in. Strobing lights and a deafening electronic drum beat set the tempo for the orgy in the inner sanctum. A priestess, fully turgid and wearing only an ornate shawl appears on a giant screen and begins chanting troonsubstantiation! troonsubstantiation!

You escape to a confessional and kneel before the veil. Bound by holy secrecy you speak your truth. The word heresy barely leaves your lips when the veil is pulled aside revealing a camera. The confessional door clicks shut, and the music stops. You hear your confession played back on the screen. A cold sweat drips down your neck. You hear footsteps approaching.
 
You return home after a 24 hour shift, KlausDay is coming up and everyone has to chip in. The television has turned itself on and showing Emperor Biden's 150th State of the Union. His skin looks almost transparent and his eyes don't focus on the same place. IV lines peek out from under the podium. You roll your eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, the televisions have been upgraded. Emperor Biden, his sight now infinite and knowledge endless, sees your insolence. His soulless eyes look through you and you pass out. You awake briefly as you feel sharp claws shatter your skull at its base.

In a pile of trash at the street corner where you scrounge for breakfast you find a cassette player and two limp bizkit tapes. You bring these back to your hovel and spend your entire week's power allotment playing them on repeat. It's a strange, titillating sensation, hearing music without seeing a charge against your bank account. You save so much on bandwidth that week you even call your mother.
An RIAA agent rappels down from a silent black helicopter and rips your still beating heart from your chest. On the open market it will sell for just enough to cover the millions of dollars in losses the recording industry just incurred.

Homeless, you have taken on a contract as a mobile wifi hotspot. They stitch a transmitter to the base of your spine (to prevent theft). The graveyard shift pays 1/100th ETH premium, you gladly agree. It's an ordinary night. The sky is a featureless grey and the air has its usual metallic tinge. There's a man at an otherwise empty crosswalk. He offers you a cigarette. You look around, and seeing no one gladly accept, it has been years since you've even seen one. The moment the filter touches your lips an EPA drone materializes above you, the air crackling as the active camouflage dissipates. You try to run, but midway through your second stride the Asset Protection Device in the hotspot detonates, severing your spine.





I have to log off for a few days b/c of wagecuckery but I WILL be back and I will continue to pierce the veil. No fortunes left behind, like G. W. Bush said.
This reminds me of Jaihoo's Trip to the Future.
 
You return home after a 24 hour shift, KlausDay is coming up and everyone has to chip in. The television has turned itself on and showing Emperor Biden's 150th State of the Union. His skin looks almost transparent and his eyes don't focus on the same place. IV lines peek out from under the podium. You roll your eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, the televisions have been upgraded. Emperor Biden, his sight now infinite and knowledge endless, sees your insolence. His soulless eyes look through you and you pass out. You awake briefly as you feel sharp claws shatter your skull at its base.
I was really hoping that ended with "Hey, you're finally awake."
 
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I have read through every single one of the fortunes foretold so far. I have rarely seen anything so beautiful. You hit most of the points of the dystopian, tyrannical clown world that we are headed towards.

Nevertheless, I must criticise the gaping absence of social credit score. It is one key goal the globalists are chasing, facilitated by their push towards a cashless, surveillance state and proven by their well-documented admiration of China's implementation of the social credit system.

You may also consider snitching culture, which would work in conjunction with a social credit system where earning points incentivises snitching. Snitching culture is encouraged in China like the bounties on reporting unauthorised movement of Ugyhurs.

One other lesser known example is how Singapore has effectively fostered snitching in their society without tangible incentives through the abuse of collectivism and encouragement of "social responsibility". People are happy to snitch on littering neighbours and commuters not wearing their mask on trains just to "do their part" and for a small chance of having their Facebook video go viral.

Modern fighter jets, hypersonic missiles and nukes cannot stand at every corner to police the people. Even with boots on the ground, CCTVs and drones, there will still be blind spots. That's why there was the Gestapo in Europe and Kenpeitai in Asia.

Getting people to police one another and have everyone in a constant state of fear would be a globalist dream. As the mask Karens on planes, trains and automobiles have proven, there will be many volunteers.
 
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