A chronicle of a world shaped by greed
Every day, the same endless white canvas engulfs the science district. The mundane environment reminds me of the similar monotony that has leached its way into the minds of all its occupants. The once vibrant and creative district destined to lead the world to a brighter future has instead fallen away, spiralling into the lifeless, passionless glumness that it is today.
All the hope that had once fuelled the accomplishments of this district has resulted in unimaginable failure. A world lost to greed gradually grinding to a halt, the natural gears of the world unable to sustain themselves any longer. Life nearly disappeared completely. Only a sprinkle was left across the vast canvas of earth, so scarce you could think it was empty.
Yet, somehow, the individuals responsible for the cause of our problems have been rewarded with riches far greater than any other in history. The same company that demolished the forests and drained the oceans, ending the natural production of oxygen in the name of “cheap land for you” is the company that constantly assured the public it was good, they were right, this was all for us. It could not result in the horror that the rest of the scientific community was warning everyone about: a world of confinement with no beauty and no life. The world we are all living in now. Of course, now that it is too late to turn back, the company responsible for the world we are forced to survive in is racking in 46 billion dollars a quarter, with the figure growing day after day. All profits made from the back of the growing lower class, the insignificant, the forgotten, the spare, working 10 hours to afford a day’s worth of oxygen, disgusting, how could anyone …
Beep Beep
I snap back to reality, out of my spiralling thoughts. Well, speak of the devil, another one down and only three left. I must go down to the oxygen centre.
Leaving the room always comes with mixed emotions. If you were lucky, the sun would be in view. You could almost imagine that the world isn’t broken, that the rich aren’t getting richer and the poor aren’t dying off. Sadly, it’s always hidden behind the concrete canyon of the company’s architectural giants. The towering skyscrapers, like monolithic sentinels, reaching for the heavens, forming a barrier that obscures the once radiant sun, casting the street into a dim, dark, gloom – fitting for the mood I always found myself in when walking down those streets.
Worse than the absence of light is walking among the grimsuits … that’s what I call them. They were once human, turning into what they are today, clad in sombre black hazmat suits that cling to their bodies like a second skin. Their masks, once a separate entity, have now become an inseparable extension to their faces. Their once distinguishable facial features have been obscured, all but their eyes which pierce through me with an expression of pain reflecting the same feeling of loss, and longing for what life used to be floating in and out of my head. Every night, the same dream.
To breathe freely, to walk among the trees, to see light dancing along the ground. To feel the soft brush of green lush grass on my bare feet. To feel the sun touch my skin while the breeze flows through my hair. The smell of the earth, the smell of flowers, the feeling of life itself. Alas, I too am one of them.
Another one amongst the millions, nothing but a number in a complex algorithm. If I could prove that only I could prove that they knew! If I could prove that they planned it all along, if I could prove they did it to control us. It could be enough to start the fire of revolution from the embers of pain, loss and anger of the people, even without oxygen to fuel it.
Words by Samuel Ribet
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