Sweeping
The peaceful mercenaries^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H^H dwellers of the Mictlan jungles looked to our borders, and were pleased. For though our lands are small, no great armies loomed to threaten our lazing about and mushroom hunting.
But a great wind blew from the north, bearing tidings of a wave of horsemen, or manhorses, sweeping away all that lay before them! Where will these sweepers sweep next? We fear they will turn their gaze south, to our tranquil jungles.
As a favour to our friends, the nation of Pan, we hereby cancel our NAP with them, so that in three months time, when the leaves start to fall from the trees, they may commence the sweeping of our jungles.
Mictlan
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Whether he submitted the post, or whether he did not, made no difference. The Thought Police would get him just the same. He had committed— would still have committed, even if he had never set pen to paper— the essential crime that contained all others in itself. Thoughtcrime, they called it. Thoughtcrime was not a thing that could be concealed forever.
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