School Shooter Republic
The body count isn’t a glitch. It’s the product.
The school shooter is not an anomaly.
He’s an expected output — like weather, like traffic, like school itself.
We’ve adapted to his presence. Built policies around him.
Rehearsed his arrival in every classroom.
Prepared the postmortem statements in advance.
Formatted for Fire
The response isn’t prevention.
It’s containment.
Metal detectors. Panic buttons. Bulletproof backpacks.
Teachers trained to sacrifice themselves.
Students taught how to silence their breath, feign death, and text goodbye.
Every drill makes his future more certain.
Every protocol normalizes his place in the cycle.
They don’t come in through the doors anymore. They’re already inside — enrolled, seated, fed.
The system doesn’t intercept them.
It graduates them.
Designed, Not Diagnosed
The “lone wolf” narrative is a defense mechanism.
It reassures the public that violence is random, untraceable, unpreventable.
But the architecture is visible:
Ubiquitous access to firearms
Mass prescription of psychiatric drugs
Social alienation wired by platform design
24/7 news loops that immortalize the killer
A culture that mistakes attention for meaning
This isn’t chaos.
It’s choreography.
Manufactured Memory
Every incident plays out on rails:
The shaky hallway footage
The mother’s grief on television
The politician’s tweet
The shooter’s face on every screen
The debate panels
The amnesia
What begins as horror ends as background noise.
Collapse and Profit
The system isn’t broken.
It’s monetized.
Security contracts. EdTech surveillance. Trauma consultants.
Weapons sales. Mental health apps. Political fundraising emails.
Every tragedy is a market event.
Every solution a business model.
And when the next one happens, the economy doesn’t blink.
Scalpel Cut
It isn’t haunted by monsters.
It trains them, arms them, and gives them the floor plan.
