CULTURING: A Protocol for the New Citizen

	Collect three cubic centimeters of cerebral cortex,
	Carved from a chubby, chain-smoking researcher's crown.
	Swirl it in viscous vats of endoneuromorphin gel and
	Let the contents linger, leaching its secrets
	Into an antiseptic brine for thirty-six hours.

	Then inject a 10% sterile saline solution, spiked  
	With three milliliters of memory‑muffling mist:
	A vaporous veil that makes convictions fail
	Like salt in a storm.

	Pierce the posterior of the subject's buttock,
	Plunging past muscle to the marrow of their identity.
	Then whisper a Low Litany to the Gods of Blind Obedience.

	If the subject doesn't terminate within ten minutes
	It will be ready for Level 1 Assignments:
	A clean slate. A rewritten ghost.

	Within twenty-four hours, new synapses fire,
	Incinerating outdated allegiances until they are
	Cherished Loyal Citizens.

	This procedure is effective when dealing
	With dissenters who haven't learned 
	Freedom is merely a supervised symphony.

	We do not kill citizen-instruments, merely retune them 
	So that they become hollow reeds 
	Whistling sanctioned choruses Upholding the Edifice 
	Of Our Glorious Techno-State.


Gus shuddered, his gaze transfixed on the grimy floor, littered with the remnants of a world
long forgotten—scraps of paper fluttering like lost thoughts in a desolate wind. A dim light
flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows that danced ominously around him. With a whisper
edged in dread, he remarked, "I hate to think how this level of tech could be abused in
totalitarian states. Someday, will human minds turn into programmable hard drives?"

Nadya offered a sharp, humorless laugh then added, "'Could be,' Gus? Wake up. We’re speaking in
the future tense. The needle is already halfway in. She gestured around them, her arm sweeping
through the stale air thick with the acrid smell of fear and resignation. "Look at the way
algorithms curate your emotions and dampen your empathy. The 'memory-muffling mist' isn't
coming; it’s already the air we breathe."

The walls seemed to close in as her words hung in the air, suffocating them in their truth. A
murky haze cloaked the city outside, the skyline a jagged silhouette against a blood-red sky.
Surveillance drones buzzed overhead like mechanical vultures, eager to observe and report.

With a heavy, quiet resignation that seemed to sap the very life from him, Liao finally spoke,
his voice laden with gravity. "The brilliance of the Edifice isn't just the control—it’s its
invisibility." He paused, as if weighing each word, his eyes haunted by the reality they faced.
"Ordinary citizens have very limited knowledge of what 'is' because the protocol minimizes their
capacity to ask core questions." His gaze drifted, lost in thought, as he envisioned the myriad
souls drifting like specters through the bleak streets below. "We are the resulting music, Gus.
We’re just not the ones holding the baton."

Outside, a distant siren wailed: a haunting reminder of the oppressive regime that governed
their existence. Gus felt his heart race, mingling with the pounding  world around them. He
envisioned a society where free will was an illusion, where individual thoughts could be
programmed and deleted at the whims of unseen architects. The once-vibrant chaos of human
emotion was reduced to a sterile pattern, encoded and controlled.

====================================================================================
from _Cyberpoems: Exploring the Human-Machine Interface_ by T Newfields
LONG-SUMMARY: A chilling scientific protocol for manufacturing political obedience through 
neural reprogramming ignites a fiery ethical clash between two scientists, exposing 
the dehumanizing cost of trading freedom for artificial order.
SHORT- SUMMARY:  A political satire and digital image about mind control and brainwashing.
KEYWORDS: scientific fascism, human guinea pigs, brain washing, neuropolitics, dystopian protocols, 
mutant bioengineering, cognitive erasure, autocracy, chemical conditioning, neural culturing, 
clinical horror, the illusion of freedom

Author: T Newfields [Nitta Hirou / Huáng Yuèwǔ] (b. 1955 - ?)
Begun: 1995 in Shizuoka, Japan / Finished: 2026 in Shizuoka, Japan
Creative Commons License: Attribution. {{CC-BY-4.0}} Granted

Disclosure: This piece was partially generated using AI tools for styling and ideation; 
            human editing was then applied.

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