Procrustean
[proh-kruhs-tee-uh n]
1. pertaining to or suggestive of Procrustes.
2. (often lowercase) tending to produce conformity by violent or arbitrary means.
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The man walked down the street, listening to the sound of
the almost perfectly synchronized footsteps of the other citizens around
him. It was almost relaxing, knowing
that everyone was walking at the same pace as he was.
Another
sound reached his ears. A small, tiny
clicking noise from just over his left shoulder. He knew what it was from. It was his personal eye. The tiny floating camera recorded everything
around it, and the clicking said it was talking to all the other personal eyes
that were attached to every other person on the street. One of them must have seen something
noteworthy, and was transmitting the information. The man did not even pause to look at the
tiny devise. If he did, it might disrupt
the rhythm of the morning walk to Work.
He
rounded the corner as he always did, expecting everything to be the same as it
always was. And it was, with one
exception. On the street stood a Cooperation
Enforcer. Normally, the law keeper stood
there, dressed in heavy armor with the large gun and capture equipment strapped
to it. Now though, he was not. The Enforcer was still there, of course, but
was currently housed in a large Enforcement exo-suit. The large mechanical suit was laced with far
more sensory equipment and peace keeping armaments and capture devises than one
man could ever hold. The officer had
gotten an upgrade. Well, it was no
wonder. The community had grown in
recent years, so the Enforcers had to scale up to keep everyone in order.
The man
saw the Enforcer, but did not stop, or even slow down. It was just part of the background. Something for his eye to see, record, and
transmit. The eye started clicking
again. This time, the man could not help
but see what was causing the interest.
It was coming down the street in the opposite direction. A flash of color that was not supposed to be
there.
It
belonged to a teenage girl. She had
painted her eye. She had painted it
pink, of all colors. The man wondered at
that. How had she gotten pink
paint? That color was no longer
manufactured. And why would she use it
on her eye? It made no sense. Besides, the standard colors of black, white,
and grey were more than sufficient.
The man
was, of course, not the only one to notice the bright color. The Enforcer did to. The fact that his exo-suit was capable of
tapping into eye feeds helped with that.
The top of the suit opened and a large flashing light popped out. Everyone stopped moving. The Enforcer raised one of the suit’s large
arms and fired. A bright light shot out
of it and stopped over the head of the girl with the pink eye. Sheets of light shot out and formed a neat
box around the offending girl. It rose a
small distance into the air and sped the criminal towards the Enforcer. The man did his job with perfect efficiency,
binding the girl and sending a signal for criminal pickup.
Once
that was all done, the walk resumed. The
man did not even turn his head to watch the fate of the girl. Hers was a minor crime, after all. She would likely just be sent for minor
reconditioning, given a new eye, and then released. It was quite appropriate, really. After all, such deviations were just
unacceptable for such a perfectly ordered society.
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After you've read the above story, read this story. This one was not written by me, but I feel it appropriate and topical given the nature of the story that I did write.
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