The knocks on the door at night, the torture chambers, the executions, the endless, hopeless years of constant fear for yourself, your children, and your grandchildren...

Or a few weeks of bombs that might hit you if they somehow miss, guns that may shoot you by accident, and the knowledge that in a short time, one way or another, it will be over forever. There is finally some hope.

I honestly can't understand how your mind works. "Discretion?" Cripes.

There are some sorts of people who would be as contented as a pig in mud under a totalitarian nation, where you are free from the pain of thought, responsibility, and self-reliance, and with any luck, the door that gets knocked on will be your neighbor's. I'd like to think you aren't that sort of a person. There sure as hell are plenty of them in my country.