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Hope and Silence

Do you know what the most powerful drug in the whole of Arcadia is?  I’ll give you a hint, it is used on every level from Olympus to The Slums and everywhere below and in between.    

It keeps people alive on Deathrow and keeps people working in the Shark Tank.  It isn’t something any Doctor can prescribe but most will use it.  

It is a substance without which Arcadia would crumble and fall.  Its rulers would fall, and people’s wills break.  

Yet, it does have a side effect and that is this drug makes people desperate.  It makes them gullible, easily manipulated, and prone to mistakes.  

The Drug I speak of is, Hope.  

It got me through Deathrow, it kept me sane when I came back up to what equates to civilization here in Arcadia.    

It made me want to be a better man in the hope, one day the knock would come at my door, and I would see my little girl’s smiling face once more.   

Then shots were fired on Thunder the moment you shoved that image in my face and put a hole in Benjamin Pegg.  

Jackson, you forced me to quit that drug cold turkey, and the side effects of doing so aren’t good.  Anger, vengefulness, and tunnel vision just to name a few.  

Now, I have no hope, part of the motivation for me to wake up in the morning is gone because of you Jackson Cade.  I could’ve lived the rest of my days in blissful ignorance believing Michaela was still alive.  

However, you tore that from me, and in doing so you gave me a new purpose because I know hope isn’t the only drug used in Arcadia. Far from it, there are other… more hurtful drugs that can be infused into the psyche.  

Why do you think I continue to exercise my right to remain silent with you?  Because I know if I say nothing, you get nothing, and I can go back to Deathrow for all I care there’s nothing left for me up here.  

But if I go down there well, you’ll be forced into your own cycle of worry, anxiety, and desperation, all of them derivatives of hope.  You will want to believe CJ’s okay, you’ll want to believe he can survive with your support, but that niggling little thought will always be there saying, “You could do more”.  

Until the day you get that definitive message, Deathrow has lived up to its name, and that cycle of drugs is converted into a fatal dose of Guilt.  I’ve seen it before.  You’ll spiral, worse than you have now, it’ll consume you until well…  

I hope whatever post you choose is load-bearing.  

But before you kick the chair out from under yourself, we’ll share a secret, just you and me.  That being Nobody will have done you in with not a word spoken. Instead, forcing you to provide your own Cure.    

Because you should’ve realized, I am Harold Fucking Attano even my silence is deadly. Now, Jackson, it’s time to sit down and take your Medicine.   

Harold Attano