He sat back down in front of the screen after taking a break for a glass of water. He couldn't seem to churn out the juices of creativity. He had ideas, he just couldn't put them into words when he sat down to do so.
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They call it writer's block.
It happened to him all too much these days. Every time he had an idea for a story or an essay, it seemed to slip his mind when he thought about how to write it. It was there, he just couldn't seem to reach it.
That's how it was these days, what with the new government disablers.
They were now inserted into the brain through the urethra upon a child's first few days in the hospital to all newborns. Those who were born after this was instituted had it injected at their next physical examination.
They were put to sleep and told it was to run tests that would be painful. The real examination was later, when the people were living their daily lives.
These devices, simple long capsules that released toxins to kill nerve impulses in the brain, stifled any deep, out-of-the-ordinary thought processes before they reached execution.
Best of all, the people didn't know it was happening.
Here he was sitting, at his screen, letter board in hand, trying to write. Here he wanted to let his creative juices flow and taste the sweet sugars. Here he sat, frustrated again as so many did these days. Here, he unexplicably forgot what to write again.
Now his frustration got the better of him and he began formulating an essay about the very writer's block that plagued him so frequently.
However, just as he started typing the first few words, he lost all train of thought, all notion of what he was writing. And he slumped in his chair, put his chin to his chest and gave up trying, just as so many before him had done.