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Diary Entries of Avigilon

Musings of a 3rd floor Surveillance Camera

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Diary Entries of Avigilon

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Dear Diary,

It is my first day on the job and I could not be more honored to perform my administration-given duty. My noble mission is to provide a continuous surveillance loop to monitors in a small, secretive room for someone to scrutinize 24/7. Not to boast, but thanks to me, every movement of the dubious characters here called “students” will be unceasingly observed, logged, and examined. I take the utmost pride in thinking of all the young fiends apprehended, the crimes deterred, and the obedience established because of my invaluable function. The dignity of my work would almost be sufficient to bring forth a tear, if only doing so would not mist over my one eye, consequently interfering with my omniscience and gravely endangering the life of everybody in the building.

 

Dear Diary,

Earlier today, at 8:38, an individual sauntered confidently down the hallway with no lanyard on his person to be seen. The apathy. I can only pray that the footage of this blatant disregard for school policy will result in swift action. This may have egregious enough an act to justify the role of my surveillance, but later the very same afternoon, I encountered some additional suspicious behavior which I’ll have to keep my one eye out for in the future. Namely, I witnessed another teen, of the male gender, enter my field of view with an excessively large bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in one hand and what appears to be a 32 oz container of a battery green liquid in the other. Now, from what I know of the human digestive system, and might I add that it is not a rudimentary understanding, one willingly ingesting such substances must surely be up to no good. I have begun to develop a familiarity with the ways of this drab and sterile land. I cannot lie (a programming feature); on the whole, the action has been, while frightful in some ways, not up to the standard of criminality I was anticipating.

 

Dear Diary,

Another day, another bewilderment. The inner machinations of these young minds are a complete enigma. The mystery of teenage romance has recently been introduced to me, and no amount of coded algorithm could’ve prepared me for it. I had glanced from afar what appeared to be one conglomerated mass of affection, but what was upon closer inspection in fact two individuals somehow traversing the hallway while attached by the lips. The safety hazard these self-absorbed lovers presented was immediate; their eyes were closed and bodies all too intertwined, representing a total spatial ignorance of those around them. When they had come directly below my position, I undeniably recall seeing one of the partners reach over and sniff the hair of the other. If I had I a stomach, I would be nauseated. This mystifying behaviour further demonstrates the bizarreness of the species of adolescents. Where I expected to encounter  juvenile delinquency, I found only sophomoric immaturity. In fact, if this is the duty I am assigned to, one where I must bear witness to appallingly toxic eating habits and inexplicably revolting romantic whims of young love; one where I just recently overheard the words “sicko mode” used as an adjective in a real sentence, then it is a duty I can no longer fulfill. Although they may not be criminals against the law or school administration, these hormone-fueled individuals do provoke the severest of cringes even within automated surveillance cameras like myself. No dollar value could justify putting even inanimate objects before the full brunt of raw teenage nature, “legal” as it may be.

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