we planned it over years, giving word only from mouth to ear. we envisioned it simple and sudden and strict: all of them would go, no exceptions, no remorse. we didn’t talk of any after, didn’t predict what might occur when our coup had run its course. we waited, and worked, and when we were ready, we acted. when it was done we greeted the morning, watched our people wake to a world without warnings.
this drink may be hot was wiped away, and slippery when wet, beware of dog and not a step and all admonishments of lurking ethical upset—explicit lyrics, rated R, brief strong language, 18+. danger third rail had left the station; do not block doors came off the bus. labs no longer had signs saying proper protective attire required; we’d even erased the dates that declared when milk and medicine expired. for external use only was blotted out from bottle labels, and danger high voltage no longer clung to high-strung, humming cables. movies didn’t start with law prohibits duplication, and caustic cleaners didn’t caution may cause irritation. new files were closed without the note your changes have not been saved. not one exhortation was excepted, no matter how shrill, how portentious, how grave.
when the word got out there was confusion, some worry, more attention all around. we sent our message to the newsmen, less than a minute of sound:
“we did it, yes. but we’re not responsible—you are. that’s the game; we make no more claim, and no correction, and offer no apologies and no defenses. you’re on your own for these petty protections. so use your sense, and more, your senses. welcome, friends, welcome back to natural selection.”