There is a sickening dysfunction in complacency and silence. That’s why writers write, artists paint or draw, musicians sing loudly; crescendoing the music despite the complicity and collusion of our tuned out world. They thrive on the edge of normalcy. It’s scary stuff being different. Having a story to tell; a muse that won’t leave you alone. In my novel, Surrogate Colony, the problem with society, Microscrep, is when there is no freedom to explore. The majority in Microscrep are the kind of people that “enjoy the binds which are holding them in,” because, “at least their binds are safe”. The moral of Surrogate Colony is that we should never collectively get to that stage where we are so riddled with fear that we are happier with absolute control. We should never barter our freedom for a prison cell of seeming safety.