Xi Jinping Blasted

Ongoing Genocide In Xinjiang

„The end of day was in short sight, and so were the working hours of a neurosurgeon in a decent enough hospital. With hundreds of successfully completed operations under his belt, this last one of the day would surely be just like the other ones, perhaps even easier than expected. Nothing noteworthy to mention about the patient except for the fact that he was an 80-year-old man. As the doctor came in and put on his surgical mask, his head was already opened up. He had a tumor.
The first cut was made, but before the blood had time to flow down the scalpel, sirens began to soar outside. Absolute panic and terror took over people’s minds as they ran towards the exit, only ending up in an impenetrable mass of chaos. There was a safety procedure, of course, but there was never a situation like this before. They either didn’t care or they naturally forgot in the split moment between the first and second sounds of the sirens. The neurosurgeon himself realized quickly that he was the only one left in the room, alongside the unconscious patient with his head open. He had to be left there, so the doctor ran towards the nearest exit. While running, he started thinking about what he had to pack, assuming he could even make it home in time, but nothing came to his mind. He didn’t have a family, nor a collection of any kind except for the few knives and blades he made, as it was his only hobby. He thought about one specific knife he wanted to bring, but ultimately decided to go the same way everyone else did. Then another thought came into his head.
Why bother? It’s all about to end anyway, and who knows how it’ll be for those that manage to survive. It’s an instinct for sure, one that was also felt by him somewhere within, but for that alone life isn’t worth living. Not a soul to care for his and he was way past his prime a couple of decades ago. He still managed to live a long and commendable life, not to mention the hundreds of lives he managed to save through rigorous study and work. He was a real hero about to be forgotten. But so would everyone and everything else as well, and he began to ponder how he would like to spend his final moments. He is at the place he knows best, but what is here to do?
He knew it was time. The only time he could do what he always wanted to, but was never feasibly able to, both for the legal and moral ramifications of the act. The act of opening his drawer-sized safe which everyone knew existed without anyone knowing what it contained. The neurosurgeon did know, of course, but not even he knew why he had brought it here. Turns out it was waiting for this moment exactly.
The safe contained one of his most precious blades he made, alongside various strange pointy objects. They were in all kinds of shapes and conditions, though most of them were perfectly sharp. Some were longer than his arm, some were spiraling, some had multiple edges and nails somehow, it’s almost ridiculous how much he was able to fit in to that safe. After grabbing his nicest knife and one that almost looked like an axe, he stood behind the unconscious man. By now he had almost forgotten about the wailing of the sirens, yet he could still feel their impact as they violated his ears, since at some point while he was opening his safe they got turned on in the hospital as well. He stopped to ponder, is this indeed a justifiable act to commit? Regardless of the fact that no one will find out what he had done, what if there is an afterlife in which he would be punished? He’s not a superstitious man for sure, but during a time like this anything is possible. But who would dare judge him? He only did what was right at every given opportunity, he saved more people than a great number of the population ever could’ve, he surely must have been an outstanding person with exceptional character and rationale, and this other one’s practically dead already. So he made a decision and shed his humanity.”
These are the sounds that were felt.

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