F   R   E   E               W   I   L   D              W   O   R   L   D 



The Strange Days of Our Future

The 1st 1 000 words published on 17 May 2020, The Year of the VIRUS

Chapter 1 – No Questions Asked, No Answers Given

Roberto Maelpus did not like what was going on. Since the dramatic advent of the age of the virus in 2020, things; at first, went downhill at a fairly moderate pace, but at the start of 2021 after the mass global civil disobedience scared the dying shit out of the newly formed International Council for Global Reform, (ICGR, also known as the Incompetent Cunts of Gyrating Rodents by the now so called ‘Terrorists Incapacitating Totalitarian Society’ or TITS); things started degrading much, much faster, basically at the speed of wet shit on a warm day sliding down a vertical semi-frozen ice sculpture of Lady Liberty, melting like a once first class ho being annihilated by demon cocks in Hell.

All microchips have been activated since 18 March 2022. Control was now total, or like the President of The United Front, his eminence Emmanuelle Delaposado; liked to express in his overfriendly and perfectly controlled, perfectly trained voice:  “…total control is now complete for the sake of all of humankind in the name of liberty and safety in our domicile among the stars, our Brave New World, (BNW).”
A long list of rewards for good behavior and punishments for ‘dissident’ behavior has been promulgated through the newly founded International World Court of the BNW. All these penal actions were tailored so that it could be delivered through the ether by the way of 5G technology that communicated directly with each citizens implanted microchip. Do something good for the collective and you might receive a few NWD’s, (New World Dollars), or maybe a vacation at a state resort. Do something deleterious according to the BNW regime and you would receive punishments ranging from the automatic subtraction of NWD’s, to total annihilation of the chip in your brain. Corpses with a wisp of smoke emanating from their ears would be quickly and efficiently removed by AI machines that were powered by human flesh.
Currently Roberto was being punished for a so called social dissident speech on his Facebook page. He went on a drunken and badly considered rant after finishing a bottle of illegal moonshine, (named Clap Trap Tongue Teaser); produced by his artist friend Jimmy The Hung.  
His punishment was that a huge cock and dangling balls would completely block his vision for 10 seconds at the top of each hour. The chip was also remotely set to stimulate his sense of smell and it was clearly the cock and balls of a popular gay male prostitute who have not bathed for quite some time.
He was about to lick a sour cherry ice cream cone when the image flickered on suddenly: “Fuck! This is going to drive me insane! Calm down buddy, relax, only another 8 hours to go”, he said to himself in a muffled voice while clenching his jaw in a natural reaction against the vile experience.
The people surrounding him gave him unsympathetic glances. The populace were conditioned and mind controlled to such an extent that any digression, no matter how insignificant, was frowned upon by most. Roberto secretly referred to these ‘normies’, as head boys and head girls. Public shaming was a big deal and these square twats got a kick out of watching people like him being mentally tormented for their trangressions.
The number of each chip was printed in a barcode fashion on the left wrist of each citizen and scanners were incorporated in all the close circuit cameras around the globe that were installed to ‘keep the peace’. When someone was being punished or being summoned, a hologram would automatically appear above their heads that explained their transgressions in minute visual detail.
Roberto was a regular transgressor, so any feelings of embarrassment were mostly worn off by now. He mostly existed in a semi-reckless state of not giving a shit, but he loved booze, woman and marijuana to such an extent that he retained the will to live, there remained just enough of this desire for life as to motivate him not to push the boundaries too far.
He was born with a rebellious nature. His mother used to tell him stories of his strange behavior as a child. He was apparently always running away.
His transgressions were never serious to the extent that it would warrant being saved on his permanent record, but they happened with annoying regularity. He couldn’t help himself. Something deep inside him was wound as tight as a caged lab monkey on Dexedrine and it didn’t take much to set him off on another ill conceived misadventure. He was what could be referred to as a ‘problem child’, but the real problem was that he wasn’t a child anymore.
He felt like he had no control over these minute rebellious actions of his. It was like having an extended form of Tourette syndrome.
In the past he would have been considered to be merely a rude or weird person, but the current morality enforced by the global distributors of boredom and toxic tranquility made it a crime to be honest and different in public to such a degree. It was seen as uncivilized and unsophisticated in the new world.
Roberto disliked this social sanitation immensely. It has become a sin to be a man and to stand out and it went against his individualistic nature.

And now he was sitting at his desk in his pale cubicle, adrift in one of his melancholic daydreams that captured his imagination when the late afternoon clock seemed to become heavy and slow, like some theory of relativity that only transpired in shiny office buildings in the heart of New City.
New City was a floating metropolis build on the largest barge the world has ever known. It was the size of 166 Nimitz class aircraft carriers and build in record time by the new global government that now had the best of all previous nation states had to offer at its disposal. It was a state of the art affair and it was seen as a privilege to live and work on it.