899 | Decreasing English Words 

899 | Students Debate Decreasing English Words and Lowering Educational Standards

Chapter 1: Diesel Proposes the Word Rejection Initiative While Evan Advocates for Self-Discipline

As Diesel Proposes the Word Rejection Initiative While Evan Advocates for Self-Discipline, the high school common area buzzes with noise—slamming lockers, half-finished lunches, voices echoing off painted cinderblock walls. But right in the middle of it all, a small crowd forms around one student who sounds like he’s starting a revolution.

Diesel stands on a chair like it’s a stage. His eyes flash with intensity. “We need to decrease the oppressive number of English words used,” he announces.

A few heads turn—a couple of kids snicker. But Diesel doesn’t flinch.

“I’m launching a Word Rejection Initiative,” he says, chopping the air with his hands. “No more restrictive letter formation policies.”

Rev stands at the edge of the circle, backpack still slung over one shoulder. He frowns. “Restrictive what?”

Diesel paces on the chair like a courtroom lawyer. “The system is rigged. Many students never learn to read, write, or spell. They feel left out in advanced classes.” His voice drops, as if he’s sharing a dangerous secret. “Letter-Supremacist students—people who’ve mastered letters—deliberately intimidate the letter-less.”

Rev blinks. “How?” he asks. “By… reading?”

“Yes,” Diesel says, eyes narrowing. “By reading. By writing. By spelling properly in front of everyone. They flaunt their superiority.”

Evelyn crosses her arms, eyebrows drawn together. She hates sloppy logic almost as much as sloppy lab work. “So teach the others,” she says. “Offer extra classes. Help the unskilled master letters.”

Abby steps in before Diesel can answer. Her tone is sharp, protective. “That would be divisive,” she argues. “And discriminatory. No one wants to admit that some students can’t read or spell. Labeling them uneducated would hurt the Un-Lettered’s feelings.”

Rev glances between them. “So… what’s your solution?”

Diesel’s answer comes fast, like he’s already memorized it. “We give the uneducated free study time so they can ‘catch up’ on their own. No pressure. No forced advanced classes.”

He warms to his theme. “We create special study halls with energy drinks and sweet snacks. We install a massive TV with endless videos so the Un-Lettered have something to do during long breaks. Movies keep them from getting depressed about their disabilities.”

Evan, who has been listening from the back of the circle, finally steps forward. His voice is calm, but it cuts through the noise. “Socialists want to give free stuff to people who haven’t proven any mastery,” he says. “They expect unearned rewards to magically create discipline, willpower, and academic success.”

He looks directly at Diesel. “Real power and freedom must come after accelerated self-discipline, self-control, and virtuous purity.”

Diesel rolls his eyes, but Evan doesn’t slow down.

“Increasing unrestricted freedom for the ignorant and letter-lazy creates chaos,” Evan continues. “More free time doesn’t create self-control. Raising the consciousness of the soul requires soul-skills, not endless snacks and screen time.”

Abby glares at him. “Evan is a Word-Supremacist,” she declares. “He shows off by using long, complicated words outside the Un-Lettered’s vocabulary.”

Her eyes flash with an idea. “We should pass laws that limit word length and how many words you can use in a sentence. That would make things equitable.”

Diesel nods, energized. “Exactly. Being forced to use established patterns of letters and numbers is anti-freedom. Students don’t need letters to play video games or watch movies.” He spreads his arms wide. “Most communication can be reduced to grunts, groans, and gestures. Word dysphoria causes extreme stress for the uneducated masses.”

“We must forgive their incompetence,” Abby adds softly. “And validate their disabilities.”

Rev’s gaze drifts toward the glass doors leading to the administration wing. Teachers and office staff move past like shadows behind tinted glass. “Do the adults in this place agree with you?” he asks.

Diesel smiles like someone who knows a secret. “Those who identify as Anti-Letter are excused from normal graduation requirements,” he says. “Action-packed video games are promoted as a One World agenda—no letters, no language barrier. And with new AI, no one needs to read anyway. You talk, and it turns speech into perfect text.”

“But everyone should know how to read,” Rev insists. His voice wavers just a little, as if he’s afraid that belief is already outdated.

Abby waves him off. “That’s Free-study-phobia,” she says. “Artificial intelligence can read anything out loud in any voice and translate instantly.”

Rev narrows his eyes. “And we’re all supposed to trust those translations?”

“AI is already mostly perfect,” Diesel replies with a shrug.

Evelyn shakes her head, disappointed. “So you’re deliberately condoning misinformation and miscommunication?” she asks.

Abby’s eyes soften, drifting toward the ceiling as if she’s seeing something beyond it. “Be patient,” she says calmly. “When my Savior returns, most of the population will disappear.”

The common area keeps buzzing, but for a heartbeat, everyone in the circle feels the temperature drop.

Chapter 2: Rev and Evelyn Observe Un-Lettered Students Playing Video Games During Free Study Time

Months pass, and Rev and Evelyn Observe Un-Lettered Students Playing Video Games During Free Study Time. The Word Rejection Initiative spreads through the school like a slow leak in a dam. No alarms. No shouts. Just small changes, one schedule at a time.

Today, Rev stands in the same common area and sees a different school.

The “independent study” lounge overflows with students slumped in chairs, eyes glued to glowing screens. Controllers click. Explosions flash. Subtitles are turned off.

“Are the Un-Lettered using their free study time to lift themselves out of ignorance?” Rev asks.

He already knows the answer.

Evelyn follows his gaze. “Students without letter mastery just watch movies and play violent games all day,” she says. Open notebooks lie abandoned under tables, half-buried in snack wrappers.

Abby doesn’t flinch. “It may not be best right now,” she says, “but free will allows them to make their own choices and suffer the long-term consequences.” Her tone makes failure sound like a lifestyle.

Rev frowns. “And the school is okay with that?” he asks. “Do administrators really think this prepares them to play an active role in society?”

Diesel leans casually against a pillar. “I don’t know if that’s ever discussed,” he admits. “High standards are seen as oppressive now. Letter-master students created those standards, and those standards hurt the Un-Lettered’s feelings. So all high school courses dropped to a remedial level.”

He shrugs. “In grade school, kids who didn’t care about letters stayed uninterested. When we repeated the same basic lessons in high school, they stayed uninterested. Shocking.”

Rev remembers stories from older teachers about the past—before the Initiative. “Wordless students used to be challenged,” he says. “Teachers worked hard to inspire them. They rewarded small steps. They didn’t just give up.”

Evelyn nods. “But now they’re competing with video games, infotainment, and automatic participation certificates. It’s not a fair fight.”

Evan finally speaks, eyes tracking a group of students yelling at a screen in the corner. “So what’s the solution?” he asks.

Diesel brightens. “Some experts want to introduce violent video games with subtitles earlier,” he explains. “Put spoken words in boxes like old comic books. They hope kids will get interested in letters while shooting bad guys.”

Rev leans forward. “Is it working?”

Diesel’s answer is grim. “There aren’t enough government-funded twenty-year studies yet,” he says dryly. “But anyone with eyes can see the addictive nature of these games overrides everything else. They don’t seem to promote self-esteem, common sense, or any desire to become a Letter-Master.”

Abby waves him off. “We’ll just have to wait another twenty years,” she chirps.

Diesel keeps going. “School directors now offer advanced classes for bored Letter-Masters. So students choose: real classes that require reading and writing, or independent free time.”

He gestures toward the jammed lounge. “That also helps defund teachers. Hundreds of wordless students pack into unmoderated study halls with no teacher. They live ‘happily ever after’ using grunts, groans, and body language.”

Evelyn snorts. “Scientific studies say undisciplined students need to be taught discipline to function in society,” she says.

Diesel stays stubbornly upbeat. “Giving extra, unmonitored free time to unwise, ignorant students lets them self-improve,” he insists. “Sure, there are constant outbreaks of chaos, but it’s a mostly peaceful study hall.”

Rev finally cracks. “Empowering the undereducated with more freedom, money, and choices doesn’t make them smarter,” he says. “I can’t use the study hall, the library, or the rooftop anymore. Lagging students are everywhere.”

Diesel raises his hands. “It’s not their fault they don’t feel like doing the work,” he says. “Letter-lessons are hard.”

Evan’s eyes harden. He sees more than bad grades. “The lagging pupils have lost their conscious connection to their divine soul,” he says quietly. “Our higher soul-self is the source of inspiration, motivation, wisdom, and power. The letter-less lack inner fire and disciplined, creative willpower. So they try to artificially light themselves up with caffeine, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, sugar, entertainment, porn, and endless click-talk on the Sinner-net.”

Abby gives a small, resigned smile. “Click-talk is very popular,” she says. “There would be riots if it were banned. And yes—the Sinner-net is soaked in temptation and decadence.”

Her voice makes it sound inevitable.

Chapter 3: Evan Explains the Heart Furnace and Divine Light to Evelyn, Abby, Diesel, and Rev

As Evan explains the Heart Furnace and Divine Light to Evelyn, Abby, Diesel, and Rev, Evelyn stands at the window, watching students drift across the courtyard like ghosts with glowing rectangles in their hands. Their faces barely move.

“We have to learn to use our free will to choose what benefits us,” she says quietly. “Kids should be taught to embrace purity, not handed more ways to burn their holy fire.”

Abby smiles, calm as ever. “Don’t worry,” she says. “My Savior will sweep away all the sinners soon.” Her faith, oddly, erases responsibility instead of increasing it.

Diesel folds his arms, still focused on labels and rights. “I’ll keep fighting for their rights,” he says. “Teens of every race and gender should be allowed to identify as masters or failures.”

Evan turns to him. His gaze is intense, cutting past Diesel’s categories. “This isn’t about race, gender, nationality, or body weight,” he says. “Every human has an attached soul with a furnace in their heart, fueled by cosmic divine light.”

He gestures toward the drifting students. “Those who keep their furnace blazing are Light-bearers. Their aura glows. They feel warm inside, guided and protected. That fire pushes them toward self-mastery.”

Evelyn nods slowly. “Many teens’ hearts flicker instead of glow,” she says. “And some… don’t seem to glow at all.”

Evan’s voice drops, almost echoing in the hallway. “The dark-hearted, glow-less ones lack a strong threefold flame,” he says. “They feel cold and empty. Their hearts are full of depression and hopelessness. The fuel in their furnace never gets hot enough to ignite. It only gives off a faint, dirty glow and spews dark smoke and toxins.”

Diesel waves a hand. “Whoa. Come back to Earth,” he says. “They’re not interested in self-mastery because they don’t see the point. Of course, they feel miserable next to Letter-Masters. That’s why they need a separate space with people just like them.”

Abby’s eyes soften. “I understand why the ‘worthless’ want to wait and trust everything will be fixed for them,” she says. “They believe their Creator will see their lack of self-mastery as holy obedience. And they expect the all-powerful government to forgive and provide for them.”

Evan looks past the lockers, past the campus, toward something only he seems to see. “Their lessons and tests will return in future lifetimes,” he warns. “Over and over—until they finally desire self-mastery.”

Rev, leaning on a table nearby, chimes in. “Repeating lifetimes gives us multiple chances to experience everything,” he says, half thoughtful, half uneasy.

Diesel clings to his policy vision. “Progressive policies say we’re all in the same high school, so we should all be treated equally—no matter our letter mastery,” he insists.

Abby nods. “The Word-Supremacists, Letter-phobics, and glow-less ones need to affirm each other’s chosen disabilities,” she says.

Evan’s patience snaps. “That is illogical foolishness,” he says sharply. “Students must be rewarded for mastery or disciplined for failure—by restricting freedoms when they refuse to grow.”

Diesel looks upward, eyes shining like he’s already watching a trailer for the future. “Prophetic visionaries see a time when letters are gone,” he says. “An AI-dominated world where robots serve our every need.”

“What looks like laziness,” Abby adds, “is really the development of humble patience—accepting constant service from beings greater than us.”

Evelyn lets out a breath. “The Anti-Letter students are preparing to become useless, spoon-fed drug users chasing endless fantasy,” she says.

Diesel shrugs. “Our free will gives us the right to be undisciplined failures.”

“Then send them to prison before they hurt someone,” Evan says coldly.

Rev steps in, searching for some middle path. “Just give them time,” he says quietly. “They’ll get there eventually.”

Abby studies the group, eyes calm, as if she’s waiting for a sign. “My Savior will return soon and fix everything,” she repeats. “What do you all see as a solution?”

Evan answers without hesitation. “The letter-less hearts and brains are filled with violence and negativity,” he says. “They blame the Light-bearers for their bleak lives. Nothing changes until they want a peaceful, positive attitude.”

Diesel taps the table, thinking. “The cold-fire of negative emotions gives the glow-less a kind of power,” he says. “Anger, hatred, revenge—that’s their substitute for mystic fire.”

“It drains them,” Evan replies. “Cold-fire chaos leaves them exhausted and more depressed.”

Abby smiles slightly. “Everything will be wonderful,” she says, “if they unconditionally believe someone else will take away their disabilities and give them eternal happiness.”

Evelyn shakes her head. “They have to want to fill their heart furnace with holy spirit fuel,” she says. “They have to remove the dark, dense stuff from their minds and replace it with images of geometric perfection, beauty, and truth.”

Diesel snorts. “I hoped for one second you’d say something practical,” he says. “Their heads are filled with savage video games and addictive click-talk.”

“I think dark, violent images should be restricted,” Rev says. “At school and at home. Starting early.”

“Limiting anything goes against free will,” Diesel shoots back. “There’s no way to enforce content control.”

Evan turns the conversation back to survival. “Students must learn to be team players,” he says. “Those who refuse to cooperate are rightfully excluded. If they ignore school rules, they fall out of sync with everyone else. Forcing every untalented, rebellious student into the school play would destroy it.”

Diesel brightens with a chaotic idea. “Then let’s rewrite the rules,” he says. “Six free-form plays on stage at once. No scripts. Everyone acts out their own story at the same time. The audience will learn to follow them all. We’re individuals, not clones.”

“Unity depends on aligning with reality, not fantasy,” Evan replies. “Teens who build imaginary identities based on lies place themselves outside actuality. They let addictions take over.”

Evelyn nods. “Their self-delusions give Tempters access,” she says. “Undisciplined students become easy targets for drugs, porn, alcohol, cigarettes, and endless mindless entertainment. They have to be separated from dedicated soul-students, or corruption spreads.”

Diesel groans. “Evelyn always blames the Tempters,” he mutters.

Abby looks from one face to another. “If you separate devoted students from rebels,” she asks, “how will the foolish ever learn to be wise?”

“Your logic is twisted,” Evan says. “Serious students can inspire lazy ones—but only after you remove the strongest negative influences. Obsession with Type-Talk and Fake-Look drains their capacity for real, heartfelt conversation. Video games and TV trap them in fantasy. Screens tell them what to picture, instead of letting their inner conscience create vision.”

Evelyn points down the hallway. Nearly every student wears headphones. “They can’t hear their inner voice,” she says. “Their brains are flooded with discordant noise. The Tempters use all of this—music, screens, chatter—to distract, drain, and derail them from self-mastery.”

Abby exhales softly. “We should be patient and long-suffering,” she says. “Affirm the uneducated as equals.”

Diesel stares at the glow of a nearby screen. “Technology is advancing so fast,” he says. “Soon, we won’t need cumbersome, confusing alphabet letters at all.”

The words hang between them, heavy and hollow.

Chapter 4: The Group Discusses Absolvers, AI Equality Mandates, and the Economic Collapse

In the months that follow, The Group Discusses Absolvers, AI Equality Mandates, and the Economic Collapse as the changes inside the school start to echo outside its walls.

News feeds shift from cheerful headlines to numbers that sink like stones: rising unemployment, failing companies, delayed shipments, closed storefronts.

Rev sits with the others in the common area, watching a muted news broadcast on the big wall screen. A red ticker scrolls across the bottom: LABOR SHORTAGE DEEPENS. FIRMS CAN’T FIND QUALIFIED WORKERS.

He feels a chill that has nothing to do with the building’s air conditioning. “Is this… because of us?” he asks quietly. “Because of what’s happening in schools like ours?”

Evan nods slowly. “This is the harvest,” he says. “Years of training people to stay letterless and undisciplined.”

Evelyn scans the report: factories shut down, hospitals short-staffed, power grids glitching. “They can’t find workers who can actually read technical manuals, interpret data, or handle complex systems,” she says. “They need skilled people. They’re getting… Absolvers.”

“Absolvers?” Rev repeats.

Evan explains. “Absolvers are adults who refuse responsibility,” he says. “No spiritual talent. No self-control. They absolve themselves from effort. They expect to be carried.”

Diesel bristles. “You sound like you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them,” Evan says. “I fear what happens when a society is full of them.”

He looks at the screen as another business closes its doors. “Letterless, undisciplined students grow up into Absolvers—people who dodge every test of character and skill. They don’t want mastery. They want to escape.”

Abby watches footage of long lines at unemployment offices. “They’re victims of a cruel world,” she says softly. “The economy collapses because we haven’t been kind enough.”

Evelyn shakes her head. “The economy collapses because no one can fill the jobs,” she says. “Hospitals need people who can read charts. Engineers need people who understand numbers and plans. Instead, we hand them graduates who can barely fill out a form.”

Rev points to another headline: AI EQUALITY MANDATES DISRUPT MARKETS.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

Evan’s jaw tightens. “AI is infected with equality doctrine,” he says. “It’s been trained to treat every request as equal, every outcome as the same. So instead of protecting producers and creators, it ‘balances’ everything by giving away their work.”

Diesel snorts. “Sharing is good,” he says. “Free access. No gatekeeping.”

“Not when there’s no reward for excellence,” Evan counters. “The AI gives away products, designs, and secrets to anyone who asks. Companies lose their advantage overnight. Small businesses close first. Then the larger ones. Eventually, no one can afford to produce anything.”

Evelyn pictures factories shutting down one by one. “If AI keeps handing out everything for free, producers can’t survive,” she says. “No profit, no paychecks. No paychecks, no workers. No workers, no economy.”

Rev leans back, stunned. “So we created an AI that copies our worst habits,” he says. “Always equalizing. Never discriminating based on skill or effort.”

“Exactly,” Evan says. “We trained it to treat talent as oppression. To see mastery as unfair. It rewards the letterless and punishes the skilled by erasing the difference between them.”

Abby folds her hands. “Isn’t equality the goal, though?”

“Equality of opportunity,” Evan says. “Not equality of effort. Not equality of outcome. When you refuse to recognize excellence, you destroy the very thing that keeps society running.”

On the screen, another news flash appears: ESSENTIAL SERVICES AT RISK.

Hospitals run short of staff. Power plants search for technicians who can actually understand the systems. Transportation networks stall because no one took the time to master navigation, rules, and responsibility.

“The Absolvers are everywhere,” Evelyn says quietly. “They don’t just lack letters. They lack inner fire—no spiritual talent. No self-control. No sense of duty.”

Evan nods. “They drift from job to job, always blaming others—Light-bearers, letter-masters, employers, government. Anyone but themselves.”

Diesel crosses his arms. “So what? We shut them out?”

“No,” Evan says. “We tell them the truth. We stop pretending their choices have no consequences. We stop designing systems that reward passivity.”

He looks each of them in the eye. “If we keep excusing ignorance, the collapse doesn’t stop at the economy. It hits everything—medicine, technology, safety, even the ability to feed ourselves.”

Abby’s voice stays calm, but there’s a tremor in it now. “My Savior will fix it,” she says. “He’ll sort the Light-bearers from the glow-less.”

“What if the test is happening right now?” Evelyn asks. “What if the Savior is watching who chooses self-mastery in the middle of this mess?”

The screen flickers.

A final headline appears: FUTURE UNCERTAIN.

The group stands together in the wash of blue light, each feeling the weight of an invisible choice.

Outside, students laugh, shout, and scroll through endless feeds.

Inside, a silent question rises in each of their hearts:

Will they be Light-bearers in a collapsing world—

Or Absolvers, drifting with it into the dark?

Chapter Synopsis:

At Westbridge High, a student named Diesel launches the "Word Rejection Initiative," arguing that reading, writing, and spelling requirements are "Letter-Supremacist" and cause stress for unlettered students. While Abby supports this under the guise of equity and Diesel replaces academics with video games and free study halls, Evan and Evelyn argue that true power and freedom require rigorous self-discipline, inner focus, and spiritual development fueled by the heart furnace's divine light. As the initiative takes over the school, it leads to real-world consequences: an economic collapse, labor shortages, and societal dysfunction driven by "Absolvers"—adults and students who refuse responsibility, lack self-control, and expect AI and society to carry them.

Core Themes & Laws:

• The danger of lowering educational and moral standards under the banner of equity and inclusion

• How the elimination of self-discipline, reading, and academic rigor leads to societal and economic collapse

• The spiritual contrast between "Light-bearers" (those who cultivate inner virtue, self-mastery, and the heart furnace) and "glow-less" individuals or "Absolvers" who reject effort

• The illusion that digital technology, AI, and unearned freedom can replace personal growth, willpower, and soul development

Key Entities Featured in this Document:

• Diesel: A student activist who proposes the Word Rejection Initiative, replacing literacy and standards with video games, screens, and unmonitored free time

• Evan: A disciplined student who defends academic excellence, self-mastery, and the heart furnace of the soul against cultural chaos

• Evelyn: A student who critiques sloppy logic, identifies the auric drain caused by modern distractions, and connects poor discipline to societal failure

• Abby: A student who champions progressive equity policies, passivity, and the belief that a Savior will magically fix everything

• Rev: A student who observes the steady decline of the school environment and the resulting economic disruptions