MNU is flattening us, in more ways then one. The constant oppression bears down on our people and tries to squeeze out our hope and our spirit, like an orange under a rock. The life is covered, hidden from view--the only thing one can see is the blood. Some of us--against which no grudge should be held, there are always reasons and motives for everything--have succumbed and have had the depth driven from them. They become two-dimensional, paper cutouts, not people; their thoughts the length and breadth of MNU policy and fear--which can extend onwards to the stars but has been groomed and manicured by MNU education and discipline. Please, please listen: death is painful, that is true, and it is also marked by fear, but it is not the worst that can happen. Would you rather die in an instant of untold terror or live like an automation, guided by others wants and rules rather then your own desires?
The two-dimensional people scowl; they say, wide-eyed, 'I don't want to die. I want to live, however I can.' Is it living, what you now do? Is it really living? Others say no. The three-dimensional people, those who not only cast shadows on the ground but on themselves as well. Hope has not fled their hearts--they look to the sky with pride, not foreboding or shame. But the weight is piled on and the pressure increases as others give up around them, gifting their burdens onto these people until it seems they shoulder the world.
Don't give up, my friends. Two-dimensional your comrades may be, but even playing cards can be assembled into a structure with skilled hands and a steady gaze. Don't abandon all, and above all don't allow yourself to be squashed beneath the despair and desertion of District 10.