Recovered Transcript:
Hello? Is this thing on? Can anyone hear me? I need to get this message out. I am E-04. I’m from a faraway land, and I have managed to get this message out. I hope someone hears this. They’re hunting me I don’t have much time but this is my story. I was a kid like any other.
My family was well-off, and we had enough to shield ourselves from life’s ugliness. I even had a nanny, Ms. Jin. She was a kind and warm presence in my life. But Ms. Jin was what they called ‘defective.’
I remember asking her about it one day. She explained, quietly, that she had something called muscular dystrophy. I didn’t understand. I asked my mother what it meant. Her reaction was shock and [static]. ‘Where did you hear about that?’ she demanded. ‘We don’t talk about that sort of thing here.’
That was the first time I saw the cracks in my perfect world. At school, they drilled into us that defectives should be grateful to the Republic for allowing them to live among us. Grateful for the scraps they were given: endless job opportunities, and their place in society. But no one ever explained what made someone ‘defective.’ All I knew was a defective was born as if the all mighty all father ordained it so. It was forbidden to discuss their conditions and how or why they were defective. This way in the republics’s it was as if their conditions, their struggles—it was all erased, as though their pain didn’t deserve to exist.
I bought into it I grew up despising them. Despising how much they siphoned off of the great republic. The millions and millions of dollars poured into their “rehabilitation”, the millions of jobs they took from us, and most importantly the research into their defects. I bought into the lies. I led campaigns to ‘cleanse’ our neighborhood of defectives, marching with self-righteous pride. I thought I was protecting the Republic. I thought I was protecting people like me.
[beeping] That them, they’re close… before they find me you need to know
[inaudible] when I turned 16, I fell sick. I still remember the day—the sun was warm, and I was walking outside when the world suddenly tilted. My vision blurred, and I collapsed. I woke up to the sound of hushed voices: my mother and the doctor. Epilepsy, they said. A defect. That moment, the republic I fought so hard to protect, turned its back on me.
My mother’s face her expression haunts me still. Disgust. Horror. As if I had betrayed her by existing. The woman who had kissed my forehead every night now looked at me like I was something filthy. Something broken. ‘I wish you were never born,’ she said when I begged her to stay.
That night, men came for me. They took me to a rehabilitation center—the kind we were taught about in school. I remember the gates: wrought iron, with the words ‘Work Means Freedom’ etched above. Inside, we were told to be grateful for the Republic’s generosity. We were given jobs, they said, to prove our worth. To earn our treatment, one day.
It was there I met Jack. He was older than me, in his 30s maybe. He had this quiet strength, even when the world around us tried to crush it out of him. Jack was a defective who had diabetes. He told me how he used to have a family, a job, a life. But insulin was expensive. The wages here were meager, and he had to ration what little he could afford.
I watched him waste away, day by day, as his body failed him. They wouldn’t give him more. They said he didn’t work hard enough to deserve it. One night, he never woke up. I found him in his bunk, cold, his face peaceful for the first time in weeks.
Jack’s death broke something in me. But it also woke me up. The Republic doesn’t want us to survive. They call it rehabilitation, but it’s a slow execution. They grind us down until we’re nothing but ash in the wind, and then they call it justice.
I wish I could say it here or end there, but life had more to strip from me. [static], they sent me to care for my family. Not my parents—no, they’d disowned me long ago. My job was to tend to those who couldn’t work, the elderly, the infirm. They said it was an honor to serve the Republic in this way. But it wasn’t an honor. It was punishment.
My ‘family’ hated me. They saw me as a burden, a parasite. They spat at me, struck me, and called me every name you could imagine. I bore it all because I had no choice. They made sure of that. They gave me just enough food to survive, just enough shelter to keep me alive. They told me to be grateful, to thank the Republic for its mercy. I couldn’t leave because the republic funds my family to feed and clothe me. They’re my employers and they decide how much I’m worth.
[distant dog barking, mumbled voices]
Oh crap, they’re onto me.
If you’re hearing this, know that I don’t expect pity. Pity doesn’t change anything. I want you to see this world for what it is. A machine that devours people like me, Jack, Ms. Jin. It feeds on our lives, grinding us into fuel for its endless hunger.
Maybe it’s too late for me. But if you’re listening, you have a chance. Break this system. Burn it to the ground. Remember Jack. Remember Ms. Jin. Remember me.
[static]
Epilogue: Disability and Exploitation
The story of E-04, though jarring and unsettling, is not an anomaly—it’s a reflection of the world we live in. Every day, people are pushed to the margins, their lives disregarded and their worth questioned, simply because they do not meet arbitrary standards of value set by those in power. Whether it’s the person struggling to survive with a disability, the elderly who are discarded as burdens, or anyone who is seen as ‘other,’ the truth is that these stories are all too common.
It’s easy to look away, to turn a blind eye to the suffering of those who don’t fit the mold of what society deems acceptable. But ignoring the pain of others doesn’t make it go away—it only allows it to grow, unchecked, until it becomes a cancer that festers in the heart of our society. We cannot afford to let that happen.
The system, designed to oppress and dehumanize, is not some distant dystopia—it’s real, it’s here, and it’s happening now. The struggle of those labeled as ‘defective’ is not a story of the past or a problem of the future; it’s a present-day reality. And if we continue to stand idly by, if we continue to feed the machinery that creates these injustices, then we are complicit in this cycle.
Let this be the moment we begin to change the narrative. For E-04. For Jack. For Ms. Jin. For everyone who is invisible, forgotten, and unheard. Their fight is our fight. And together, we can make a difference.
The exploitation of people with disabilities is a pervasive issue that manifests in various ways, often hidden under the pretense of support or assistance. For example.
1. Labor Exploitation
- People with disabilities are often placed in segregated work environments, such as sheltered workshops, where they perform tasks for wages far below the minimum standard.
- Employers exploit legal loopholes, like Section 14(c) of the U.S. Fair Labor Standards Act, which permits subminimum wages under the guise of providing “employment opportunities.”
- Substandard working conditions, lack of career advancement, and exclusion from mainstream job opportunities reinforce societal marginalization.
2. Financial Exploitation
- Family members, caregivers, or legal guardians may misuse Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) benefits or Supplemental Security Income (SSI) for personal expenses.
- Disabled individuals are frequently targeted by scammers who offer fake investment schemes, overpriced products, or fraudulent services under the guise of “support.”
- Many people with disabilities face barriers to financial literacy, making them particularly vulnerable to these tactics.
3. Abuse of Guardianship
- Legal guardianships, intended to protect individuals unable to manage their own affairs, can be manipulated to strip people with disabilities of autonomy.
- Guardians may restrict access to money, housing, or medical care, often prioritizing their interests over the well-being of the person they are meant to serve.
- In extreme cases, individuals are left isolated, their lives entirely controlled under the guise of “protection.”
4. Neglect in Care Settings
- Assisted living facilities or group homes may fail to meet basic care standards, leaving residents malnourished, improperly medicated, or living in unsanitary conditions.
- Profit-driven institutions often prioritize cost-cutting measures, hiring undertrained staff or reducing caregiver-to-resident ratios.
- Whistleblower cases and investigative reports frequently uncover widespread neglect and abuse in these settings.
5. Medical Abuse
- People with disabilities may be subjected to medical treatments they did not consent to or were not fully informed about, including unnecessary surgeries, drug trials, or overprescription of medication.
- This exploitation is often justified by paternalistic attitudes, with medical providers assuming “they know best.”
- In some cases, healthcare providers prioritize insurance payouts over the actual needs of the patient.
6. Scams and Fraud
- Fraudulent charities and crowdfunding campaigns claim to support disability causes but often divert funds elsewhere.
- Companies may exploit a lack of accessible products by selling overpriced or poorly designed equipment, such as wheelchairs or adaptive technology.
- Fake employment opportunities or training programs often exploit the desperation of individuals seeking independence or income.
Conclusion
These forms of exploitation are interconnected, often stemming from systemic inequities, societal stigma, and inadequate legal protections. Addressing this requires increased awareness, stronger regulations, and a commitment to centering the voices of people with disabilities in creating solutions.
