Thought Crimes Read Online Free

that agreed with her. ‘If we don’t fight against what consumption culture’s been doing to these kids, we’re standing by while humanity disintegrates.’
    â€˜So what would you have us do?’ Ralph asked Karen. ‘Tell Bill Gates and Rupert Murdoch, “Wrong Way, Go Back!” ? … Most schools can’t produce a functional timetable, and you want us to reverse the tide of history. By cutting a little slack, we’re saving these kids’ lives.’
    â€˜What for? What are you saving them for ?’
    â€˜Don’t be so cynical … Life’s life. It’s a fair starting point for everything that follows.’

    Disregarding advice that she take time to reconsider, Karen ran out of the school to find a park where she could gather her thoughts before speaking to Paul.
    The teacher felt the pale-blue sky reaching down to fix her head in an Indian Deathlock. Not one of her friends supported her stand. Many said that they’d started out thinking just as she had, but had been forced to alter their views when they’d seen the change in the school. They asked what she’d prefer: drugs and suicide, or happy, purposeful students working hard to realise their potential?
    Detlef Fir told the assembly that he’d just that morning made an appointment to have his ears amputated. He wanted to show his IC kids how much they’d inspired him. Ears had always given him the shits. He could pleasure his wife much better without ear flaps getting in the way.
    When Noni Poussis said that her husband was giving her massive breast implants for her thirtieth birthday, Karen could stand no more.
    Maybe it was her. Maybe she was out of sync with reality. If she could just accept that any behaviour that short-circuits the self-destructive impulse was reasonable, she could release the sky’s vice-like hold on her forehead.

    While listening to Karen’s story, Paul scribbled meticulous notes.
    His few questions concerned verification of detail; when something happened, or whether someone spoke exactly the words she reported. He showed no powerful emotions, but answered ‘Yes’ when Karen asked if he believed her. It took four hours for Paul to take down everything Karen felt needed to be said for the story to be told accurately.
    After a long silence, Paul looked up from more than thirty pages of handwritten notes. They were both exhausted.
    â€˜This is really something,’ he told Karen. ‘Schools weren’t like this when we were there.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You do realise the paper won’t print this story?’
    Karen’s eyes fought against their sockets. She’d just given an intimate account of her school’s complicity with madness. She asked again whether Paul believed her tale of Prospect Secondary’s attempts to redefine integration.
    He did. Every word. No one could doubt that Karen was taking a principled stand. The thing was, his newspaper never published stories about teen suicide, or anything that might be seen to romanticise suicidal behaviours. There was no way his editor would run a critique of a school that had won out over suicide.
    So, this was the brick wall. You’d never be permitted to attack the underlying socio-economic causes of youthful discontent. You were only allowed to fudge the truth by blaming dodgy song-lyrics and zealous drug dealers.
    â€˜Have you ever felt that having a full set of limbs made you inadequate?’ Karen asked.
    â€˜I don’t like my nose, but I’ve never thought of having it amputated.’
    â€™We’ve got to stop this,’ she insisted.
    â€˜Suicide’s a virus,’ Paul said. ‘You should commend these people for doing something.’
    The man had missed her point entirely, and just then Karen realised that Paul had always managed to miss her point. Yet she knew that he also was sad about the state of the world. He might be thick and