Sunday, 24 August 2008

Big Brother

Passing through Britain, I never fail to feel like I've been kidnapped and teleported to an alternative reality where, had 1984 ever been written, it would have been a realistic novel. You can see this on the streets, but London Luton Airport is just a textbook case:

A long queue. A maze of queues. People shuffling along with their belongings, reminiscent of Auschwitz inmates. Signs everywhere: Warning: CCTV in operation. Smile, you're on camera. No liquids. No photography. Warning against verbal or physical assault to our staff, law provides strong penalties, including imprisonment. Guys in flashy costumes barking commands, herding: move on, this queue, over here, come forward. Over the PA system, continuously: THIS IS A SECURITY ANNOUNCEMENT. Don't leave your baggage unattended, it will be destroyed. Take off your coats and belts now. Have your ID ready for inspection. You can't carry more than one piece of hand luggage, or you will be denied boarding. Stand in line.

I take off my coat and belt, put everything in the scanner, step through the gate and get bipped. I had my phone in my pocket. Guy comes over, starts putting his hands all over my body, while reciting the mantra “You're all right mate, you haven't done anything wrong”.

I don't need you to tell me that, I know perfectly well, says I, I know that better than you. It's all right mate, it's just a security procedure.

No, it's not. This goes way beyond security. This is for display. It's a show. It's propaganda. It's brainwash. It's mind control. This I think but I don't get to say, 'cause now they want me to open my laptop and take off my shoes, to scan them. I've been wearing them for 48 hours non-stop now, so the smell that comes out qualifies as a biological weapon.

Now half naked and ready for a fight I wait while they also scan my laptop 3 times, intrigued as to whether after 3 chunks of radiation it will experience spontaneous combustion or not, one would imagine. In awe that it doesn't, they hand it back to me.

“You know the movie Brazil? Don't you feel like you're in it?”, I ask the guy. He doesn't know the movie. “Have you read 1984?” He hasn't. “Well mate, welcome to Airstrip One then”, I say as I leave.

1 comment:

MakurA said...

Joder, es que tienes toda la razón... Es una demostración de poder, una intimidación... tsk, tsk!

Muy gracioso el vacile, pero no muy valiente después de haberle preguntado si había leído el libro. Hubiera molado más si te hubiera pegado un porrazo añadiendo un "pero vi la peli, listillo!" xDDD

Putos seguratas... ^.^'