Right Utopia Pt. III

Note: Character name change! Christi -> Alethea. I’m not going to edit my previous posts, as I need some leverage if I ever decide to offer a final draft as a Patreon gift or something! 😉

However, I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am writing it. This has been an incredible experience for me, as the worlds I have created in the past never felt mentally satisfying. The examination of the space always felt superficial.. Anyway, I’ll stop rambling. Thanks for your interest!

Right Wing Utopia (The Unexpected 2k Word Trilogy)

Alethea could feel that the shroud enclosing her body in its ovular darkness had ceased moving. Her mind was still racing. “Who are these people? What do they want? What is going ON?” she transitioned from thought to yelling and fighting against the abyss. The bottom parted around her feet. Silently, as the lotus blooms to kiss the sky. She was dazzled by the transition from perfect darkness to the bright sun-simulating LED bulbs. Once it was clear of her body, it quickly receded into itself becoming a small circle no bigger than the size of a medium-sized coin. It was hovering above the crown of her head for a second, and then began to fall. Alethea could feel the wind rush by as it was caught midair. She swiveled on her heels, and was face-to-chest with a tall sturdy man with a pronounced wiry red beard. Standing so near, he felt as wide and as massive as the great assault personnel carriers that hurried the Hunters around the city. She had to step back from this second wave of assault on her senses. The great man bellowed in a thick southern drawl as he thrust out his hand, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Bel. Welcome to the Underground!”

Alethea blinked away her questions and thoughts, still attempting to adjust to the overload. She took his hand and gave it a swift shake, still unsure of whether or not she could trust these people that had just violently invaded her life and took her captive. Finally, her voice finally broke free from the cage within to flutter and echo in the concrete cave, “I’m.. Alethea. What.. where? ….Why!?” Bel’s face was washed in a jolly smile, “You will be briefed by Maduenu after they get back from tonight’s raid. However, I do apologize for the startling manner by which we took you. If there is anything I can get for you, please let me know. Please let any of us know.” Bel gestured to the various corridors that formed spokes out from this central room. “Beyond these halls are the living quarters for members of the Undergrowth, our mess hall, armory, and everything necessary to keep our operations running smoothly. You are welcome to explore and do as you please. However, beyond the bunker’s doors.. You wouldn’t get far. We’re deep beyond the Southern Point, and there are auto-turrets, Babbling Brooks, and the occasional Hunter or Outbounder wandering the wastes. I trust that you’ll consider us as friendly, compared to such machinations.”

Alethea met his steel gaze, “I guess I have no choice, either way.”
Bel laughed, “Quite right. If you need anything, give a holler.” Into her hand he placed a small electric-violet glowing object shaped like a large pill. “Your brain-chip’s communication isn’t very good for the sensitive information we might discuss here in the Underground. It’s unlikely there’s anybody monitoring the coms these days, especially with qcrypt being the way it is, but better safe than exterminated, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alethea halfheartedly laughed at the thought, took the communicator, and placed it into her ear. She could still hear the roar of laughter and comradery from the mess hall and the hissing of the ReSYNC pods in the sleeping quarters. The electronic bee in her ear allowed ambient noise in until activated by the owner’s voice, which it verified by scanning the individual’s Broca’s area. Bel had already heel-turned and marched away into the mess hall to join the others.

Alethea was alone, again. She hesitated for a second, feeling a pang of remorse and was forced into a flashback of when she had been forced into the science academy all those years ago. She felt her chest clench and the breath get sucked from her body by the invisible phantom inside her as she remembered the unnecessary torture she was put through to deactivate the chip – purely for the amusement of the audience at home. When she was finally lifted out of the water by the phantom, Alethea was finally able to take in her surroundings. She had been unsealed at the southernmost point of the circular room, and before her lay mass amounts of technology. In the center, a holographic display of the globe showed various red spikes moving about. The globe was teeming with them, a dance of pillars of blood. As they overlapped they grew, and as they departed they shrunk. In some places, the pillars were tall and wide, others they were a single dot. In the four quadrants of the table was a row of work stations each with their own holographic screen. Some were off, but the ones showing life were fixed on either tables or certain areas of the map. She stepped forward to the center, and as she approached the globe she could make out blue spikes. No. Blue missiles whizzing above the hovering Earth. As they disappeared into the fluid-like sphere, some of the red spires crashed down. Wide became skinny. Tall became small. Some became none. It was enough for her to surmise that, whatever these red spikes represented, they were mortal. They were no match for the Babbling Brooks, the statistically likely ordinance of choice within these carriers of destruction. There was little else on the map, and without being taught what the makers wished to convey, it was useless data at this point. She ran her hand along the edge of the projecting table as she began moving toward the hall marked “LQ” that was directly opposite the southern entrance corridor. Her mind was still wandering. She had been so confused about the recent change of events, and the prospect of speaking to who she presumed to be the leader didn’t help much. She arrived within the Underground’s crew quarters. There was a lone black door that stood in the rectangular room.

“If I was expected, could they have..” her thought trailed off as her feet placed Alethea before the console beside the door. It crackled, but a gentle voice chimed, “Please state your name.”

Alethea hesitated, “Alethea.. Onida.” The voice replied, “Accepted. Thank you! Please wait.” A soft scratching sound could be heard behind the door. Once it stopped, the door swung open, and she stepped inside. “No way!” she exclaimed.

From the deep black darkness, a world swirled before her. It began to materialize into a small-yet-spacious one-bedroom apartment. A bar marking the top edge of the place’s walls buzzed to life with a quick electric-hiss. The lighting faded through a light rainbow of colors, sometimes snaking along the wall like a marquee.

“Welcome home, Alethea. You have one message. You appear to be in need of sustenance – please proceed to the kitchen area to receive what I have prepared. If you need me, my name is Alexa,” a voice from the ceiling rained down from somewhere above the open ceiling. Somewhere in the simulated dreary rainclouds hanging above her new home.

“Thank you, Alexa,” Alethea’s voice responded to no one in particular as the LED lighting adjusted themselves to a soft indigo.
“You are welcome, my companion,” the A.I. cooed with the soft sound of windblown rain.

Alethea looked back up at the ceiling, surprised to have been answered. Her old apartment had never been so advanced, nor did she really know such technology had arrived just yet. Even with all the advancements, the scientists were generally the last to get what was built for the Owner-Operators. Usually what trickled back down their way was the scraps of technology several years outdated. Trainees were even worse off, generally put into small one-room spaces infested with all sorts of species that were considered “protected.” Once the technoids were unleashed on the planet to pollinate plants, most sentient species had to move inside or face extinction. The last bastion of hope for many of these creatures was within the beds, walls, showers, and living spaces of the trainee’s – unable to pay for their extermination, unable to exterminate them if they had the money. The only option was to move from the area, but that required passing the exam and moving on. Now, Alethea was living the high life. It was intoxicating enough for her to temporarily forget her confusion about recent events and take in what fortune she seemed to have stumbled into.

As she moved through the purple sea, away from the door and towards the kitchen, she admired the aesthetics that had been generated based on her most heart-felt desires. Everything was inspired by gothic architecture, much of which was either purple or black and adorned with skulls. As Alethea passed by the bedroom, she caught a glimpse of a canopy bed and let out a squeak. She hesitated before the multi-panel window and watched the simulated rain falling outside, flooding a valley in the distance, and quenching the thirst of a variety of fauna. The aroma of a particular plant nearby caught her attention, and she glanced at the desk looming in the corner. Her computers were already setup and ready-to-go. Before the main large monitor, on the cold glass surface, sat her old friend that glittered in the purple light accompanied by a mason jar full of sunshine and several lighters.

She gigglesnorted and began walking to the kitchen opposite of her desk, and quietly whispered to herself, “A friend with weed is a friend indeed.” She began to howl with laughter, and arrived at the kitchen island to find a warm veggirrito. Alethea looked up and nodded to the sky in gratitude just as Alexa began to speak, “Maduenu would like for you to visit them at your earliest convenience. Please join them in the Overseer room.” After the dewy electric voice was lost to the soft winds, she checked her presentation before her desk mirror, saluted Alexa with a cloud of her own, and exited her ReSYNC pod as it hissed gently at her saunter through the sliding egg-shaped abyss that served as a portal to the rest of her immediate world. Shortly thereafter, she arrived back at the main hub of the bunker, the four terminals now occupied by three unfamiliar individuals and Bel. They were busy manipulating the workstations via the wireless connection between it and their Visual Auxiliary Ubiquitous Xtension, a miniaturized quantum computer injected directly into the brain at birth. Maduenu was standing near the central display watching a Babbling Brook crash down upon a large stack of red. They turned upon sensing Alethea’s presence, and had begun to smile at her.

“Ah, found your room, I presume? You look refreshed, that is good to see,” they beckoned for her to sit at a bench before the great glowing screen and themselves, “Please, I am sure you have many questions. So, let us discuss the recent events.”

Alethea took her place, and couldn’t help but let slip the question that was always on her mind, “Why?”

“Precisely, my Komrade. ‘Why?’ It is a fascinating question that nearly drove you to utter destruction, did it not?” Alethea nodded sheepishly. “Such a waste of talent. All the brilliance, and it was going to what? To further some filth’s new toy? We have none of that here in the Undergrowth. We are all Komrades. We fight against the kyriarchy that sought to erase us, but they could not erase the natural laws that gave birth to us. Could they, Komrade? I believe you know this to be true. You’re lucky that we were in your computer and intercepted your cry for help long before the scum could.” Alethea had begun to weep. Even after seeing her quarters, she had still felt guarded and skeptical of these kidnappers. However, now, she began to recognize them for what they were – family. Each person in the room was varied in their own way – genetic diversity was necessary for the proper advancements and to ensure the survival of the newly interstellar species. However, the world outside was constructed in such a way to prevent too much variation. Too much genetic diversity. Too much discomfort to minds driven down the extremely narrow path that their singular goal carved out for them.

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Not This $#!T Again! – Texas Anti-Trans Bathroom Legislation

[CN: Bullying, assault, prejudice]

I will be turning this into a video this week, but here’s the rough draft of the transcript early:

As the vibration of cesium marks the passage of time here in the United States, my home state of Texas is marching towards denying civil liberties of many Texans, young and old. With under half of the state being Judgmental Christian, religionist, or otherwise invested in the endeavor of dictating daily lives and growing the size of government, the powers that be in Texas are attempting to force the beliefs of the minority upon the rest. There have been loud rumors about the possibility of a statewide bill affecting minority groups, especially nonpassing or nonbinary transgender individuals. There have already been several cities that have passed their own anti-trans bathroom ordinance, and there have been several others that have had protections for minority groups repealed due to these perverse beliefs.

However, this isn’t much of a surprise to me. I grew up in a small town, one that some might refer to as “rural.” It was pretty average for the area, as far as ideological beliefs go. Kids talked. Adults gossiped. The elderly nagged. It was, and still remains, an excellent breeding ground for ideological indoctrination. Growing up, it wasn’t very difficult for me to pick up on the opinions of others. Whatever the TV or radio was saying was likely to be their thoughts, or whatever they learned from Sunday school that week. The kids were no different. Even if they didn’t pay much attention to the news, they still had their parents to fill them in on what to believe and how to act.

When I was young, I knew to keep my mouth shut. A “boy,” of sorts, that “thought” himself to be a “girl” was something to be disgusted at and corrected, fixed, or abandoned. I recognized this long before I should have, but I had to grow up fast being in such a place. It took a long time before I found a friend that I felt comfortable with opening up to. They were similar to me, or at least I thought they were. Yet, they were a gay cisgender male, and when I revealed how I felt about my life and myself, they recoiled in disgust and told me I couldn’t possibly feel that way. I was eight at the time, and it devastated me. After that day, I didn’t really have much of a friendship with them anymore. I was eight, and I had been devastated. Confused. What made me so different? They acted kind of like me. They liked similar stuff. Yet, they weren’t trans. They couldn’t understand it.

In 5th grade, my body began to change in a variety of ways. It mainly started with accentuation of my torso and the growth of breasts. My body was becoming a confusing mush, to me. It was being pulled in ways that I didn’t like, but at the same time it was being moved to places that I did like. I had already become hesitant to use the restroom, due to my increasing dysphoria and knowledge of how society viewed me. However, sometimes it was necessary. At the school I attended, we were only allowed restroom breaks with the class, unless it was an emergency. These breaks were monitored by a female teacher, which generally meant the boy’s restroom was chaos. I recall going in there one time, and there was a group of kids standing around a urinal. The person trying to do their business was often subjected to physical and mental bullying. I do not remember much about them, even though I tried to get to know them. However, what I do recall is that they had problems at home – financial and probably more. Due to their circumstances, they often came to school with long fingernails, which was strike one against them in the minds of the kids being taught by the religious vultures. He also had long hair, which may have been in part due to the circumstances surrounding his life. The last strike against him was his demeanor. He was timid to the point of shaking, forced to be shy from the constant hate, and had a soft voice. He was the best target for these living bags of trash. The kids standing around him were yelling slurs – calling him a faggot, a sissy, and more. They then began taking turns placing their foot on his butt and pushing him back and forth against the urinal. I wanted to leave, but instead some of them had turned their attention to me. They began to throw insults about cowardice my way, and I was a coward. Not for their reasons, but because I really needed to use the restroom, and these other bigger children were forcing me to make a decision: Press on this kid or be tortured, too.

To appease them, I placed my foot on him, pressed him once, and retreated into a stall. A few cheers erupted from the other kids, and the teacher finally decided that there was too much noise, and began to force everyone out of the restroom. I simply sat in the stall and began to cry. I don’t readily recall if he ever told the teacher, but it didn’t matter.

After that day, I stopped using the restroom breaks. As every other kid filtered into the bathrooms, I waited outside. My teacher took notice, and questioned a few times, but I never revealed the problem. Instead, I halted my fluid intake to make sure I could go all day without using the school’s restrooms. If I REALLY had to go, I still wouldn’t. I would hold it. I would wait until I arrived at my grandmother’s place of work, where I was dropped off after school, and would use the restroom there. Without anyone present.

I couldn’t use the restroom that aligned with my gender identity, nor could I get the assistance required to move towards it. I was afraid of what would happen to me in the ones that didn’t align with my identity. So, I chose either empty bathrooms, gender neutral bathrooms, or I wouldn’t go at all. Often, the choice would be made for me, and it generally resulted in holding on to that fluid waste.

This behavior, this maladaptive coping mechanism as a response to a broken society where the unanalytical push their uninformed opinions, caused me several kidney stones over the years. The lack of hydration, the inability to exist, the lack of facilities that could keep me safe, and more coalesced into some of the most unimaginable pain. It also put me in debt several thousand dollars due to one of the stones being 7 mm and requiring intervention.

This is what this negative behavior results in. This is what coddling special snowflakes that believe their opinions are facts does to children. This is what has been happening for so long in our society, and it’s what will continue to happen as long as we’re okay with letting the vocal minority rule and hijack the megaphone.

Bullying, health problems, and more will befall the children of Texas and any state where this attitude is held in high regard. It must be stopped, and it will be stopped, but only with help of people like you. People that empower themselves. Listen. Know. Understand. Thank you so much for joining me. Stay safe, my witchlings, and know that you are incredible. Until next time, bye~

Right Utopia – PT. II

Still not proofing this. I probably will once I completely finish (who knows when that will be). However, lovely people have told me to continue this. So, I will. This is the first thing I have ever actually enjoyed writing (as far as entertainment, fiction, etc. goes). I hope you enjoy it as much as I. ❤

Right Wing Utopia (The Second 2k Words)

 

Christi leaned back in her chair, watching the cursor blink on the screen as she took a long drag from the iridescently shimmering purple bong she used to deliver her from the pain she dealt with both from having to deal with hiding her identity for so long and the various messages her nervous electrical signals felt the necessity to convey to her central self. Alone in her apartment, she felt herself plunged into the cooling pond as she exhaled the piney aerosol, numbed to the fire inside her body and mind. She had already begun to show signs of redistributed fat on her body, and it wouldn’t be long before her transition was evident to her peers at the university to which she was shackled. The dread of being spotted by one of the Artificial Informant systems was high.

A thought bubbled forward in her mind, “They didn’t always have these systems, did they? Surely at one point we would have thought it was preposterous to have such constant surveillance?”

She recalled a trace of a memory, a book she had read before Alexandria “lost” its only copy. “Data failure,” the clerk had said, “nothing we can do to recover it; sorry, kiddo.” Even as a young child, she thought that was rather suspect. However, apparently it was rather controversial. It told of the social conditions of long ago, before the Great Apathy – a period, so the book claimed, that lasted from 2016 until the present day. Her thoughts circled the last. That was precisely what was problematic about the book, she presumed, because she recalled a modified version she discovered later in life that claimed the Great Apathy ended with the takeover of the G.A.E.. She recollected that surveillance systems were marketed as a way to prevent cheating, protect the rights of others, and would prove useful for reducing crime.

“These systems are obsolete,” she thought and giggled aloud to herself without a care.

Deep down, she could feel the disbelief, but shoved it aside. The surveillance systems were attended less and less by people and became increasingly automated to the point where only the legislative body was in sole control of the system. It very quickly became used by the people that could pay the best bribes, as no one had much time these days to contemplate value systems. They were either forced to become a scientist, were determined to be a R.A.T. for some conjecture or other, or were able to buy their freedom as a Glorious Official or Owner-Operator. Thus, the system was now programmed to find potential R.A.T.s to be hunted by the Owner-Operators for sport. It kept the scientist class in check, the Earth resplendently cleansed, and the majority of society happy.

Christi collected her thoughts and began to finish her note. It was mainly for herself, but she thought her parents might want to know what happened – not that it would do any good. Once the last key was pressed, the final click for a save echoed and faded, she set up a dead-person’s switch. If she could not reschedule the letter daily, it would send at midnight the following day. She figured she’d just reschedule it with one of her two hormone doses, either in the morning or at night.

She laid down to sleep, carried to dreams on exhaled clouds and tears of truth. Tomorrow was another day.

Perhaps cocked and primed by the writing of her letter, the dreams she had ebbed and flowed coalescing into the chronic reminder of how she arrived at the understanding of herself in the first place.

Her body shivered and flinched, curling in on itself as images of warfare flickered in her mind. Slaughter. The crash of the red waves on the shore of corpses. These were fantasies that once haunted the mind of her childhood. Carnage. The wounded whimper of a R.A.T. as they knew their time was coming. She had seen on the Internet and television depictions of these hunting events that were cheered on by the jeers of angry bystanders, fueled by the stereotypes they were fed by the Glorious Officials. The untouchables. The truthers. The common sense choice for walking in the Light. Consumption of that media had changed her brain, and the constant bath of testosterone caused her mind to latch on to such aggressive and vile destruction of unmentionables. The hatred and anger was intoxicating. It made the world easier to navigate. Kill these, celebrate these. Kill these, celebrate these. Kill these. Celebrate these. Kill. Celebrate. Melinated. White. Kill. Celebrate. Trans. Cis. Kill. Celebrate. Broken. Able. Kill. Celebrate. Until the euphoric release of unopposed belief and rapid-decisions is achieved in glorious fashion. She had dreams of being an Owner-Operator. A lone stalker of the unmentionables in society. The righter of wrongs, and the bringer of justice.

However, when she thought these things, she could always feel the humanizing emotion of regret and hesitance within her. If she heard Ava or Ethan spout views like this, she would recoil inside with a sick drop of the stomach. Even though she wanted to destroy the unmentionables, she felt a kinship with them, but didn’t have the words to describe it. She was far too young to have access to much information, at that time. Ava and Ethan made sure that she was busy with other things – either studying, as her family had fallen on hard times and it was looking more and more like her only option was science or death, or fighting the hordes of her imagination outside. There wasn’t much time in all of that to contemplate herself, and she didn’t care to anyway. Thinking about oneself, rather than the Glory, was heresy and could result in one being labeled as vermin. Yet, enough bubbling thoughts can eventually coalesce into a single condensate. This had happened within Christi. Over time, feeling like she couldn’t connect with other peers, members of her family, and others made her wonder what was causing the breakdown in communication. She began to follow the logic trails regarding why she felt certain things throughout her life about her body. Why did her chest bother make her uncomfortable? Why did the sudden major increase in body hair during puberty cause her absolute disgust to herself? Why didn’t she feel the connection to her name and how she was hailed as other people seem to? They seemed so sure of themselves, without hesitation or that distant drifting feeling. They could respond on a dime, proudly and immediate. Glorious. As it should be. However, it was a struggle for her to mimic such behavior, regardless of if she had become good at it. She sighed and lay down to sleep. Tomorrow was a new day. It would be a glorious day. It was the last day of her academic career, and it may be the last day of her life.

In the still morning air, as the sun was rising over the horizon, a loud crack shook Christi awake.  She flinched, instinctively, in bed. Waiting. It was the sound of the Hammer, a favorite tool of the Seekers, used as a shock-and-awe tactic against the vermin that sometimes worked their way back into society. Somehow. Someway. The Hammers were small, given their power. They looked like the mortars she used to see in her history books, learning about the Great Wars long ago. “When evil was evil,” a tear formed and fell onto her pillow. The flat end of a Hammer could be placed against an object, generally a wall or roof, and it would adhere to the surface. The small end that faced the operator began a countdown. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. It was time to run. The electronic hiss of bees could be heard from within the container. The solid-uranium slug was being heated and compressed. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. The sound of electricity cracked, as the device charged its magnets. Three. Two. One. The slug was propelled from static to Mach 2 in the blink of an eye. The sonic-crack would destroy the Hammer – the noise designed to frighten, the shrapnel designed to maim. The slug would plow through whatever surface was before it, spreading out and taking a large chunk with it. Before the dust could clear, the Hunters could sweep in and eliminate the infestation. Lickety-split. No muss. No fuss. The rich all had soundproofing these days, anyway. What did they care? They were content smiling at their lavishly decorated homes. Happy to be kept company by their Aware Home and robotic companions. While some of them went out to enjoy the benefits of the latest technology, most of them were fantastically occupied with consuming their lives. Once peepers were enhanced with science, it became commonplace for people to watch the world through the eyes of others. Those who couldn’t hunt, but loved the sport of it, watched through the eyes of the possessed – and they too became possessed. People that couldn’t afford the best simply watched the best. The content streamed into their minds, the eyes glazed over, and the instant gratification of not having to do it yourself was overwhelming, to some.

Only the sound of silence greeted Christi as she sat up listlessly. No Hunters today. It looked like she’d have to go take the last test anyway. She’d finally be qualified to begin doing research under the guidance of a mentor, someone else that’d slaved away their life just a little longer than she had. Someone that was pushing the boundaries. It felt like it should be exciting, but these days it was mundane and forced. She gracefully flowed to and from the shower and hesitated before the mirror, as she was about to refresh her mouth – brushing was gone, but sometimes it was nice to give your mouth a bit of delightful scent, at least she thought. Her hands ran along the curvature of her sides. The marble had begun slipping away. The goddess she was had finally begun to be carved out of the formless mass of the past. Her thighs were eroding to show the form she had seen herself with for what felt like eons. Her chest had begun to peak higher than the hills that had existed before. She could finally observe the progress, and she smiled. She shivered at the thought that whispered in the back of her mind, licking the dark edge of her consciousness – “I won’t get to enjoy this for long.” She finished her routine, never meeting the gaze of her reflection thereafter, and left the apartment with a sigh.
The cold air chilled her cheeks as she made her way to the testing station. Once there, she was greeted by a silent short fellow that looked as though he’d dried out early in life. The mummified man showed Christi to her cubicle to complete the electronic assessment. The hours ticked by as the knowledge she whizzed through the questions designed to test her abilities in a variety of subjects. She glanced up at the single black orb mounted on the wall above her. It was watching her. They were watching her. Citizens long ago allowed this, and now they were under constant watch. Being scanned. Vitals checked. Is anybody in there?

She nodded at the black hole determined to suck her very soul from her body and replace it with numb cold dead control. She returned to the test, lest they become suspicious. Questions to test her ability to assess bias and analyze results washed away the last few thoughts about the vantablack sphere. After the last question was answered. The last button was clicked. Her results popped up with a “pass.” She could now-

The building shook with a crack. Another Hammer. She saw dust flow from around her space’s door. The door was kicked open. Shouting. Gunfire. Loud. So very loud. Black. She struggled, but was restrained. She peered into the darkness, but could not see. She wanted to shout, but could not scream. A voice from outside the shell yelled in a heavy Nigerian accent, “Don’t worry about it!” A person’s face flickered on the screen inside, “I am Maduenu, and it is to my understanding that you need help. Please remain calm. We are the Undergrowth.” As swiftly as it had appeared, the ambiguous face dissolved.

 

Right Utopia Pt. I

This was something I dreamed about last night and today. I don’t know if I will develop the idea further, and I definitely didn’t proofread it, but I’d like to share it with you, regardless.

Right Wing Utopia

Ding. Ding. As the light on the intercom flicked on, a soft voice filled the cabin above the roar of the jet’s engines, “We will arrive at our destination in approximately two hours. It appears that the weather will be mild and rather pleasant.” The light glowed for a few more seconds before returning to its normative state.

“Thank you, Rosa!” Ava chimed in the cockpit’s direction. She reclined back in her luxurious seat and smoothed her silken red dress.
“Have you been thinking of any last-minute modifications to our decision?” said Ethan as he startled the air with both his manner of speaking and a quick half-turn to face his wife.

His wife hesitated, breath slowing. They were a power-couple. Mid-forties, well-established, and everyone coveted their life. Ethan had inherited his father’s money and companies when he was twenty-eight. However, he never wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. So, he simply sold everything in a feeding frenzy of investors, and spent the rest of his life doing what he desired. That generally involved travel, and as such the main investment was a private jet for he and his wife. Ava came from a similar background of inherited wealth, and between the two of them they had enough to live several lifetimes worth of luxury. They were completely unconcerned with the day-to-day of the people they flew over. Indeed, they were one of the main advocates for the Body Harvest of 2033. Their wealth afforded them all the privileges of modern science, and today they would be deciding the features of their still conceptualized child.

China as a whole became a sort of bastion for scientific breakthroughs that the people actually wanted, over the years. The massive influx of wealthy individuals wishing to make history for themselves and humanity had made Beijing the central hub of the Galactic Alliance Everlasting. There were a great number of scientists working towards understanding ever-greater obstacles to human progress, and money greased the gears of progress. Humanity had flown through discovery after discovery, yielding little time for consideration of implications or possibilities. It was for the glory of humanity, and many people enjoyed the new comforts of life.

Finally, Ava cocked her head and smiled, “No, everything will be fine. I know our decisions will create a beautiful baby boy. After all, these days we have nothing to worry about!”

Ethan smirked. “Of course they had nothing to worry about,” he thought, “the obstacles were taken care of years ago.”
People had been resistant to change, and there had been several fire bombings of labs designed for the sole purpose of making the Heroic Unified Modification Abiogenesis Nullification (H.U.M.A.N) project possible. These days, those people had been taken care of. It was the pledged sole purpose behind the Body Harvest legislation. At least, that’s what Ava and Ethan supposed. It’s all they heard about in their social circles, and they supposed that it must be true. So, they had pledged money and support. In return, the scientists allowed the couple the right to create the first child.  However, the wording of the actual legislation stated that individuals that could not conform to societal norms were to be removed from society. The “who” and “how” was left open-ended. The night of the legislation the sound of batons rattling the cages, the report of a rifle into the air, and the sound of silence chilled. The dogs of war were unleashed, the larger ate the smaller, and the survival of those best able to adapt was ensured.

The individuals best represented and normalized in media and elsewhere were ensured survival. Their familiarity with the subjects allowed for fewer biases to manifest, and so the hunting for Radicals Alienates and Thugs began. Previously enacted legislation allowed for doctors to condemn a body to be harvested, but this time lobbying had managed to allow for any sentient being to harvest a R.A.T. under certain guidelines. The requirements were left as a simple list:

1. A “uniform” to be worn before and during the procedure.

  1. That the individual to be harvested is of the same criteria as outlined under the G.A.E. guidelines for body harvesting.
  2. Be a citizen of the district you choose to harvest from.

The going rates for a poorly-harvested R.A.T. that could be used for spare parts was well over fifty grand a specimen. For live societal refuse the going rate could be much higher, especially if the buyer felt the strain of life-or-death decisions. The business was booming, but quickly the intended goal was taking effect. Undesirable R.A.T.s were appearing less and less in society, and this meant that progress could be made for the benefit of all humankind.
The soft bump of the runway met them as their plane touched back on glorious Galactic Soil.

Rosa chimed over the intercom, “Excellent. I hope that was pleasant! Have a lovely trip you two.”

“An excellent flight, as always dear!” Ava elated. Ethan smirked and laughed, “Yes, truly glorious as always.”
As they exited the airport, Ava held her hand up to shield her eyes. The shimmering of the white-gold trim on the limo shuttling patients to the Project lab had dazzled her, but no other flickers greeted the arrival. A discovery being tested was simply another day of breath in this city and, indeed, the globe.

As they were driven to meet the doctor, only the whisper of breath could be heard as the couple stared out opposite windows dreaming of their life with the new baby they dreamed of. It seemed so long ago that they had wanted a child. They had tried all prior options to no avail, and had resolved to simply dreaming up their ideal offspring. They were actually the best candidates for the Project, even though it had been tested many times prior with glorious success in the most unimaginative participants.

When they arrived, a lean pale business woman wearing a dark suit greeted them as they left the lavish vehicle, “Welcome Ethan and Ava, glorious day! I will be showing you to your room. Do either of you have any questions at this point, or did you look over the packet we sent you?”
Ava patted her purse as they began walking towards the entrance, “Yes, I still have it with me just in case. It seems to answer anything we could think of and more.”

As the woman opened the door for Ethan and his wife to follow, she smiled, “Glorious.”
They walked down the long white corridor to room seven and entered. Here, they were instructed by the packet to undress and get into two separate sensory deprivation pods after donning the soft-caps resting next to them.
Once they were in the pod, they were instructed to focus only on their ideal child, and the image would be constructed from what they most wanted. The entire process took but a few minutes for them, even though the pamphlet claimed it could take several hours.

After the process, Ethan and Ava cleaned themselves up. A sharp rap was heard as they were finishing the proper appearance modifications for acceptable social presentation. The wife opened the door and Ethan stepped out with his wife in tow. “Follow me, please, we appreciate your excellent cooperation and expediency. Your presence has brought us considerable interest, and we will be offering our services publicly before sundown.”

“Glorious,” Ethan and his wife replied as they were led to the next area. The pamphlet stated that they would be taken to the selection station where any undesirable traits could be removed or last minute modifications to their offspring could be made.

They stepped into the private viewing room with several holograms depicting their child at various stages of life. They were able to see every slice of what their future child’s life would be. The algorithm had already taken glorious care in removing all traits associated with R.A.T.s, as there was no need to breed undesirables into society. No one considered it to be valuable to the glorious goal of progressing humankind.

“He’s so beautiful,” Ava stepped forward towards the baby’s first years. Ethan admired silently the man his son would become, and felt a sense of pride. He looked at his wife and nodded. “I see nothing that I would change.”
“Confirmation complete” a feminine voice echoed into the room. The last stop was to let Ava prep for surgery so that in nine months their child could be born. As they departed, Ava with the business woman and Ethan for the waiting area down the hall, the couple’s eyes locked and Ava spoke, “We will love this child no matter what; we’re finally going to receive our precious gift!” They both smiled and went their own way.

Nine months later, on December 24 of the glorious year 2057 Ethan and Ava had a child which they named Christian. He was everything they had dreamed of and more. The Project managers threw in extra incentives for them, because they had donated so generously to the cause. Christian was given genes to increase cognitive ability and physical strength. Under lab conditions, no deviation was noted from the intended result. All children were born according to the emotions and thoughts from the parents with a little tweaking by scientists. All previous patients were kept in the Project headquarters for study to make sure the desired outcomes were achieved with round-the-clock monitoring of mother and child through the use of sensors placed on the skin. They were afforded all the freedom they were accustomed to, the Project HQ had to be very well suited for the tastes of their clientele. The sensors made sure everything developed accordingly, and after the child was born the scientists kept track of their progress. No deviation from the desired Creation or Development stages was ever noted, and it was fast-tracked through the Galactic bureaucracy.

Ava was the first mother to leave immediately after the procedure and was free to explore the Earth as she saw fit during pregnancy.

On December 24, of the glorious year 2081, I awoke to consciousness. On the 24th year of my glorious life, I understand myself. On the 24th day of the 12th month of the glorious year of our Leaders, I cast down the crown handed to me by Creators. They called me Christian, and I know myself as Christi. What they could not see under their microscope and narrow-mindedness was the miles of concrete above and below protecting them from cosmic rays. What they could not observe in their holograms and in their calculations was the peaceful states of lab rats and influenced outcomes from monitored mice. Over the years I knew about the views regarding R.A.T.s, but for the glory of the Project I decided to keep silent. For the glory of progress, I thought I could change. Over those many years of my life, I dedicated myself to both studying the philosophy of the Galactic Alliance and to educating myself about the Project. Today, I will confess my sins and give my body for harvest. The world I grew up in places the burden upon me for being influenced by the hormones within my mother’s body becoming who I am today. My body is deemed sufficient for harvesting according to the guidelines governing society. I do not have a say in what is done to me. I have no voice. Indeed, I am alone in this world and am faced with the option of staying silent and suffering or ceasing my conscious experience. I choose the latter not because I am a martyr for the tyranny of traditionalist belief and power struggles between the majority and the undesirables, I choose to do so because I cannot lie to my biology and myself. I cannot lie to family, friends, and society. I cannot exist in isolation without community. I cannot exist without myself. I cannot exist.