Montreal, September 4, 2057

If this ever falls into the wrong hands, I will disappear in the following ten days. Twenty four if I am lucky and cunning.

I am risking myself right now, by writing truthful heresy in the wrong language, to tell you, the world, just what went wrong in Quebec.

We didn't realize at first. Of course, when the first law was passed, there was outrage. Public demonstrations. People manifesting, screaming high and loud out in the streets, on rooftops.

For both sides of it.

But they stood strong and ignored us. Our economy fled. So did the wise ones. We were left to pick ourselves up, the stubborn ones who stayed. Hardly anyone left. It was hard, our numbers dwindled rapidly in the first years.

Thirty years passed. More laws were brought on, to close the loopholes left by the first. When the immigrants came, they were forcefully taught the other language. The unofficial/official one. The only one, as they wanted to make us believe.

Thirty years passed. The parties of before had changed sides, now proclaiming the law as having a positive There were still some mutterings, but they were quickly overlooked as a minority.

It had started subtly enough. We were given snide sideway glances when we spoke in another language than theirs. Most pretended to understand us, a false play of decency.

That was about the time when things got carried away.

In the space of a few years, we were slowly stripped of our status of citizens, assimilated into society as being lesser beings. After all, we were the ethnic vote that had cost them lose their precious election.

And now, sixty years after the law, it is now illegal to speak another language than theirs, illegal to be of other descendants. At school, we are told that they were the persecuted ones, and we the evil, megalomaniac ones. All else I know, my mother and father, as of them, told me our history.

I don't know if they would be proud or ashamed of me, if they could ever know what I've done.

And so I pass it on to you, the world, the outside world that doesn't react when it hears of what is happening, so close to them.

I'd say more but-

Shit. Someone's at the door.

They're speaking French.