some people

Some people are born to be leaders. Most people, followers. And then, there's that tiny number of people that are not meant to be.

    And this is their stroy. Jeng jeng jeng the main movie theme starts. The camera pans, zoom in, out, dolly around a mass of humanity. Every single one of them looks different, red dress, armani suits, mohawks, combat boots and tartan pants, black spiked biker jacket, bling blings, all in multitude of shape, colors and sizes and yet, in that chaotic mass of individuality, they all form a muddied image. A great mass of anonymity. A picture of television static. Hissing with white noise. Unintelligible. Meaningless and mundane.

    The camera zooms out out and out, showing the mass of humanity to look like speckles of fearie dust. Beautiful in numbers, but lingering in the briefest of moments, only to dissipate into the aether.

    Then the camera pans to the right and zooms in in in and in, from the sky, to a city, to a block to a neighbourhood, to a home and into a darkened bedroom, where a boy, no older than 16, sitting in front of a monitor, was jerking off to japanese porn. The chosen ones. They who'll inherit the earth. In darkness and bloodied hands.