[ WP ] You live in a world where the only way to be respected is to say as little as possible at all times

Everyday, just after 3 in the afternoon, I would hear the kids talk. They would walk out of the school gates and down past my fence, trying their hardest not to be heard, but relishing in the opportunity to speak. They were too little to really understand it, I suppose. Sure, the text-prompters at school would have told them not to talk, and it's not like they were exposed to much of it - but they were young. Speech was taught at age 10 in little classes ( with screens and digital voices ) that you had to enrol your kids in to - a controversial topic, since the recent Opt-Out policy was legalised - and the taste of articulation was fresh on their tongues. They were trying words out for size, while they still could. I envied them. 
 
 Sitting in my living room, I would mouth their sentences back in silence. Speech was fickle that way, and I suppose that's why it was looked down on. You had to make decisions and commit yourself entirely to them on the fly, and once said, your words were in the public domain. Free for the taking. Of course, I'd never tell anybody of my little ritual. I'd adored speech as a child, and it had taken a long time for me to realize the vulnerability of it all. I'd been caught with an audio-book at age 13 by my father, who had punished me by planting me on the street corner and having me read out one of my magazines over and over. Even typing things out was looked down on, and so most books or publications were released anonymously, but the audio-book had been released illegally and under some poor guy's full-name. I could n't speak, since the punishment. The echoing was just something that I enjoyed. I'd never repeat out-loud, though. I'd love to, but I could n't. 
 
 Of course, there were some occasions where you **had** to speak, but it was hard to tell. I'd fucked up a job interview the other day by accepting the just-out-of-reach position with a `` Yes, Sir'' rather than a `` Yes.'' Sir. How dumb was I? I mean, it was a sign of respect, but letting my guard down like that was embarrassing for the both of us. It was no wonder I'd been ushered out. 
 
 I sat and read the news off of the television. The kids were gone now. The news had been in text format since the last reporter quit a few years back. Alice Partridge, or Patterson, or something. She could n't handle the shame that the naturally vocal job brought with it, and once she left, the station could n't find another reader. The text flashed in a bold and large type. *SUICIDE UP. DOW JONES UP. WILLIAMS ELECTED PRESIDENT. * The fewest amount of words possible, so as to maintain the credibility of the poor fucker who had to type it in. Williams' election did n't surprise me; apparently he'd never spoken a word. Learnt speech at 30 - purely for education, of course - and never discussed anything. Speculated to be a republican, but nobody was too sure. 
 
 That was the downside of shaming speech, naturally; nothing got done. I'd imagined the big office meetings, where Williams and his selection of well-dressed and intelligent politicians would sit around silently and wait for one of the interns to speak, or type something. It did n't work - but what could you do? 
 
 I dreamed of speaking up. It made me cringe in embarrassment to even think of it, but I still dreamed. There was no way of knowing, of course, if other people did the same. If I'd spoken out, I could be condemned. Perhaps. I often made eye-contact with my neighbour through our parallel windows, and something about the way she looked back told me that she'd be nice to talk to, but I could n't. I had never asked her name. God, I had n't talked in years. Last time I'd spoken, I must have been a kid. 
 
 The next day, when I heard the voices outside in the afternoon, I opened my front door. Three kids walked tightly together, huddled, and speaking freely. They were n't reticent around each other, which was refreshing. Nobody else was around. 
 
 `` Hey,'' I called out. It felt invigorating. The kids turned to see me, eyes wide with shock and confusion. I was already this far in to it, so I kept going. 
 
 `` Want to talk?''
