Snow

It's me, #1957 . . . You can refer to me how you like, Nineteen Fifty-Seven or One Thousand Nine Hundred Fifty-Seven or  One Nine Five Seven. I don't call myself any of those, yet I cannot reveal my real name. I only refer to myself in writing as #1957, and that's because it is the name/number assigned to me by The Apparatus.

It remains a cold and snowy winter. Snow falls atop snow that refuses to melt, along with a clean shimmer of ice beneath it all. I slipped and fell on my walk today--a walk I am required to take (as best i can interpret) as part of my job as And Object of Curiosity. A job given to me by The Apparatus . . . When I first came to Soybean Island I had a room--a rather pension-like room in a house. There were others living there and I do not know if they too were prisoners as we were not allowed to speak unless spoken to. There was no communal room, no dinners together. After a few months there and, no doubt, because I obeyed the rules, I was given a somewhat shabby apartment in a somewhat no-so-shabby part of town, that is, in Soybean Island City. And then the job, and then a meager stipend on which to live upon. So, I walk most places, though often take Transport Vehicles. I also bought a small camera (bought, in part, by resisting non-essential purchases and by cooking my own frugal and simple meals):

And yes, I have a computer, an old one that I purchased at a thrift shop.

It is not especially sunny today--sunlight, fresh air, watching small birds are examples of the few and free things I can take pleasure in here on Soybean Island. But here is a view from my window:

I'm not sure what else to say. It is dangerous for me to do this much. As this blog progresses I will attempt to reveal more about my situation, about the nation of Soybean Island, it's towns and agriculture, its institutions and of course, about The Apparatus that rules all things here. Though I am not supposed to go to the airport, I did take a photo near it because this is where I first arrived after my capture and, because, I believe this is where I will have to make my eventual escape. I suppose there may be boats, somewhere (you must be part of the Elite to visit the coast), but this is an isolated island, either in the far northern hemisphere or the deep southern.

Yes, there is more air than port in the picture, but that is what it is.

Okay--I'll post a pic from the inside, though it frightens me to do so:

I can reveal no more . . .

I think that, for now, this is enough. I will try to write more often. So, until then:

Goodbye from Soybean Island