When I was a child, in boring classrooms, I would sometimes lie on the table and look at the desktop. Look at its color texture, look at its scars, look at the black and white marks on it, and I will add a few strokes when I really don't have to. One day when I was painting on the desktop, a flying insect came unexpectedly and landed in front of my eyes. I moved my eyes or moved my head with its movement. I don't know where the "inspiration" came from, so I slammed the transparent pen cap around my hand over it. Watching it spin in circles, fly up and down, there is an indescribable joy in my heart. I would also move the cap carefully and switch places for it, and it pressed its head against the inner wall, looking like it was resisting, but couldn't do anything about it. I won't let it go until I get tired of it.
The day before yesterday, yesterday and today, I finished watching this three-season American drama "Under the Dome" in one go. The main scene of the TV series is in a small town under a dome. The huge transparent dome popped out like my pen cap. Buckled on top of this town like a transparent cauldron, it is indestructible, and no bullets and cannons can break it. The townspeople have to survive with limited resources, and that's where the whole story begins.
In those days under the dome, people clashed. First there were small conflicts, the conflicts evolved, the frequency increased and the scale became larger, and the town gradually lost order. For food and rights, they have to form gangs and fight for survival. The thing that struck me the most was a strange control that appeared in season three. Most of the townspeople are controlled by a belief that they become unselfish and everything they do is for that "intimacy". They also stopped arguing, fighting over food, and eating unpalatable feed together. They are not themselves at all, and their bodies and wills are handed over. They are like machines that are tightly controlled by programs, and they know exactly what to do and what not to do, and there will be no resistance. Be disciplined in the face of self-sacrificing situations. When the medicine was insufficient, the seriously injured Hunter was willing to commit suicide; when the oxygen was not enough, the old people walked into the lake calmly one by one, and did not struggle to turn around until they were submerged in water. For those who are absolutely loyal to that group and do not belong to their own group, they have only one countermeasure—kill.
The ant under my cap, the body is mine, but the action inside is its own, I can't let it hit the wall and commit suicide, I'm just a body imprisoned. The designers of this dome are not satisfied with just watching the people inside kill each other, maybe they are tired of watching the killing game and want to change the style. It is conceivable that someone is watching the world under the dome from the perspective of God, and he is not happy.
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