Simulated People
The Ones Who Serve But Never Shout
South Asians.
Do they really exist?
Or were they written into the system
as background process, as service layer, as polite silence?
I see them in call centers.
In spiritual quotes.
In outsourced labor,
engineered excellence,
and colonial scars wrapped in entrepreneurial smiles.
But I don’t see them in the wars.
Not in the loud ones.
Not in the ones on my screen.
I see the Europeans fighting the West Asians—
fighting their history, their oil, their borders.
I see the Europeans fighting the Africans—
fighting their resources, their movements, their dignity.
I see the Africans resisting the Europeans,
and the Europeans fearing the return of what they once exported.
I see the Sardinians, the Samaritan Jews,
the fractured voices of identity,
all shouting in different directions.
And I—
I feel like I am the only West Asian
fighting both the Europeans
and the Sub-Saharan Africans.
Alone in a war
no one else sees,
no one else names.
And then—
there are the Melanesians.
Carriers of Sub-Saharan ancestry,
but labeled differently,
coded apart from Africa
as if their darkness
belongs to another file.
Segmented by the system,
like all inconvenient truths.
But South Asians?
They do not scream like West Asia.
Do not resist like Africa.
Do not weaponize like the East.
Do not crumble and conquer like Europe.
They hover.
Efficient.
Vast.
And almost invisible.
Their presence feels coded.
Soft power.
Polished minds.
No flags, no fists,
just simulations of calm
in a storm-torn world.
If they exist,
they exist like code:
necessary, everywhere,
but unseen.
And I wonder—
Is that power?
Or is that the deepest silence of all?