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If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face forever.
George Orwell, 1984.
The setting.
Javier sits in a holding cell.
His work boots scuffed his voice raw with desperation and rage.
The year is 2025 and the Trump administration's mass deportation program backed by private
contractors is in full force.
If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face forever.
I read that in 1984 and I thought it was just a story.
Now I feel that boot on my neck crushing me, my family, my whole life.
I'm Javier, a construction worker, a U.S. citizen for 15 years.
I came from Mexico when I was a kid, worked my way up, paid taxes, built houses for people
to live in, but none of that matters now.
One wrong move, one question, and they've got me in a detention center with my face under
their boot and it's never letting up.
It started with a traffic stop last month.
I was driving home from a job site, tired, just wanting to see my kids.
The cop asked for my ID, then my citizenship papers.
Papers I haven't carried since I got naturalized.
I said I'm a citizen, but he didn't care.
He said there's a new security sweep under Trump's executive order from January 2025,
the one that ramped up the deportations to cleanse the nation.
They're using private companies now, some outfit called Geo Group, paid millions to
run these camps.
They ran my name through a database, probably that Palantir one everyone's whispering about,
and it flagged me.
Why?
Because I spoke at a community meeting last year, said the deportations were tearing
our town apart, separating parents from kids.
Someone reported me as suspicious.
Now I'm here in this freezing cell, no lawyer, no phone call.
My wife's out there with our two girls, probably terrified.
They froze our bank account, pending investigation.
They said, my boss fired me after ICE called him and I said I'm a risk.
I'm a citizen, but they don't care.
The news says they're deporting millions, citizens or not, if you're questionable.
That's me, I guess, I'm for speaking up.
I see the guards outside wearing their shiny new uniforms,
paid for by the $2 billion ICE budget, the hike this year.
They don't even look at me like I'm a human.
Just another face to stamp on.
I keep thinking about my daughters, Alan and Sophia.
Will they grow up under this boot too?
The TV and the detention center players, Trump's speeches saying this
is about making America safe, but safe for who?
Not me, not my neighbors.
Not anyone who looks like me or dares to open their mouth.
This is their future.
A machine that chews up anyone who doesn't fit their picture of America.
I'm not just a number in their database.
I'm a father, a worker, a citizen.
But to them, I'm nothing.
Just a face for their boot to crush forever.
This is your future.
No voice, no choice.
I still see eyes bleed rust, the drones hung death.
City suffocates choke on electric breath, social credit tanked.
My voice is a crime, bank account froze.
I'm a slave to the grind, they watch through the walls.
Eyes in the wire, every word I spit feels a digital fire.
Starving in the shadows, about or they're thrown.
Freedom's a ghost, I'm flesh on the bone.
Code red, the system's alive.
Crawl through the grid just to survive.
Code red, they own your soul.
Hate with your life, the bell starts to toll.
My claws deep, but the stores won't sell.
Low score, locked out, trapped in this hell.
Roof overhead, now that's for the elite.
I'm scrapping the gutter, filth under their feet.
They ration my air, tax every scream.
Nightmares for sale, no room for a dream.
A number defines me, a barcode, a cage.
The algorithm laps, feet on my rage.
Code red, the system's alive.
Crawl through the grid just to survive.
Code red, they own your soul.
Hate with your life, the bell starts to toll.
Your credit's a race, bank drains dry.
No food on the plate, they cut the lights.
Leave you cold in the dark, every thought's a chain.
Every word leaves a mark.
Negra snitch fast for a crumble or a dime.
Trust is a corpse, rotting in grime.
The cameras blink red, they know where I bleed.
Controls in their hands, I'm a glitch in the feed.
No escape, the wires bind tight.
Synthetic gods rule the endless night.
They feast on fear, devour the weak.
Humanity's ashes, no future to seek.
The screams, screams, lies.
The truth burns cold, we're pawns in their game.
Bot and sold, break the chains.
They'll crush your skull in this machine.
We're all null, I crawl through the ruins.
The city's a tomb, every step-track.
No space for doom, the rich ride high.
On towers of glass, while we choke on fumes.
Drowning in ash, they ration my water.
Poisoned online, rebels are target.
Extinctions my kind, the score ticks down.
I'm off for the ends in this dystopian cage.
No soul to defend.
Code red, the system's alive.
All through the grid, just to survive.
Code red, they own your soul.
Pay with your life, the bells are set to toll.
Chance to mend, they drag you to pits
where the failures decay.
Forgotten to race, just wasting the gray.
I scream to the void, but the void dying,
void dying.
The system's a boat, just to turn up.
This is your future.
No voice, no choice.