Great Oak Gazette

By Pranidhaan Chincholikar

2055, The Utilitarian States of America

When I look out the red glass window, I see what I see every day, the destruction of conversation. I feel entirely n̷o̸t̸h̷i̷n̶g̵ when I look at the advertisements. It’s been a while since I felt anything. We have grown numb to our political problems, and they have become numb to the people.

I take calculated strides to the elevator outside my apartment. As does everybody else. Work is one of the only emotions I feel anymore. The elevator fills to the legal maximum of 16 people, and one of the workers near the elevator menu presses the “bottom floor” button. For a brief moment, before the elevator declines, I see the faces of some of the workers. They are gray and drab. I stare at one worker in particular, his face is filled with defeat. Then, right before the elevator leaves the floor, he returns my glance. He knew that this elevator was the last elevator he could take. Execution was the only option for him now.

The world population has exceeded the amount of jobs that are available at a given moment. Governments, controlled by corporations, created a system that guarantees anyone a job. The system was praised, but no one had read the small print. People soon realized that competition for jobs had only increased. No news station had them do this, since the corporations controlled them as well. But that’s always been the case for us.

We all accept the reality of our lives before childbirth. Even the womb has been privatized.

As I exit the housing unit’s lobby, I walk out into the street. As does everybody else. For a moment, we are all briefly blinded by the light of the advertisements. However, our eyes get used to them after a few moments, and simply promise ourselves that we shall never give them another thought in our minds.

The march to my job is constant and rapid. As I turn the corner to Apples St. I hear a whole new set of advertisements. The deliberate gerrymandering of the advertisements was the only way we could keep our facade alive. No one wants the facade to die, if it does, we would have nothing left.

As I continue my march, I hear an ad echo throughout an alleyway, “COGS, IF YOU WOULD LIKE 1.25% MORE BREAD PRODUCTS, THEN A VOTE FOR ME IS A VOTE FOR 1.25% GRAIN PRODUCTS” I tilt my head slightly to hear his enticing offer a little longer, but it was long gone by the time walked by.

Politicians have promised so much but done so little. But the people are to blame. The average life span has decreased to 32. I am 31 years old.

I continue my march, unabated and unstoppable. A little arm reaches off the wall and shocks anyone passing by. When it is finally my turn to be shocked, it pinches my shoulder, and I feel indescribable emotions. It’s almost as if nothing matters except this moment, but the feelings are abrupt. When I take another step, it’s all gone again.

As I pass by the schoolhouse, I see children march by. I glance at one of them, and they glance back. However, we return to our forward stare as quickly as possible.

I finally arrived at the building. My workplace. BigCorp. The workers continue their march, as do I. When I walk in, the building is in complete silence and shambles. Monitors and screens on all sides engulf the walls. They reveal that the global economy has collapsed. They also reveal that to save space for future developments, they will be beginning the immediate destruction of the city. Post haste.

A new line of workers forms, one that leads straight off a cliff. The workers retain their orderly fashion when walking off the cliff. Not a smile nor frown in sight. For a moment, I take a step out of the line, then another. No one glances at my mutiny, and simply continues their forward walk to nowhere.

There was this thing, a few decades ago, called, “decisions” All I knew about before them was how to spell the word, but I think I am faced with a decision. I turn my head to the sky, I see the clouds, but I also see the cleansing missiles. They are painted bright colors like orange, green, and yellow.

I walk out of the building, I see the final moments of civilization happening in front of our very eyes. But no one seems to bat an eye to the danger from above. I stare at the missiles for a while, I watch as they fall to the ground, creating massive explosions, and then I see one right above me.

Faced now with my final moments, I see a perfect society with imperfections. I see a nation of peace at war with itself. But most of all, I see ignorance to it all.