Murder By The Book - Ender's Game

"Oh, how fitting," I say, vibrations sputtering from my vocal cords, rebounding off of molecules in the air to create a pattern recognisable to my peers. Or it would be, if I had said it in anything more than a quiet, frightened mutter.
"Already the seeds of demise have been planted in soil most fertile. All the prerequisites are present for germination. Isolation is the water upon which we are afloat. Fear is the warmth that allows our enzymes to function at optimum temperature. Vindictiveness is the cruel oxygen that fuels our respiration. The plant that grows is a flower of utter and sublime evil."

I frown, adjusting the wire frame which houses my prosthetic lens. It is a gesture which many would assume idle fidgeting, but which almost certainly has very much more significance for having been conducted by one as clearly wise as myself.

I survey my colleagues, who are surely shocked by my beautifully logorrheic display of grandiloquent eloquence. I worry how some of these people could be stone-cold murderers. How Iconoclast plays to their name, harbouring such vituperative malcontents within their ranks. Were it that I could just pluck the malignancy from them piece by piece with re-education. Alas, that would probably be highly immoral..
Oh, that's an idea. I'll have to write that down.

I digress. I will not allow such labefactation of the writing art to stand! Such corruption within our oft-vaunted ranks serves only to expedite our egress into endless agony.

Oh, must we cry out to kill our comrades? They too are trapped within this lexicographical oubliette.
Oh would it we would not.

But progress marches on, and few now listen to such words which seem grandiose and padded, lacking in feeling or in speed.
As the universe heats and stretches out to infinity before cooling, snapping back in into nothing more than a speck, so too is this course fixed.

The poll is rolled anyway. My words are bold, unheard.
A square of paper pocked by pen, placed in lieu of words.
Upon that cellulose quadrangle lie symbols stark and whole.
Symbols which speak for burning flame, Chwoka is the coal.

"Is there anywhere I can uh... Get a cup of tea here?", I stutter to no one in particular, at approximately 30 decibels in volume.