Language remained, but meaning was stripped away.

They spoke in loops, refining the message, carving lies into sound bites — sharp enough to cut, pliable enough to spread. Each bite was crafted to be swallowed whole, easy to repeat, coated to resist doubt.

And the people swallowed them without question.

They did not hunger for truth — truth was bitter, difficult to digest. It required effort, demanded scrutiny. Easier, then, to accept what was offered: words softened, pre-masticated, broken down into something comforting, something safe. No contradictions. No struggle. No need for thought — only the warmth of certainty, spoon-fed in measured doses.

The pace was the point. Not the message but the volume, the velocity, the relentless replacement of each claim before it could be tested. By the time one contradiction surfaced, three more had taken its place. Exhaustion was not a side effect. It was the strategy.

Accusations spun outward, reflecting blame, twisting reality until the guilty stood as victims and the righteous were condemned. Lies were repeated with such precision that truth became indistinguishable from noise.