dystopia number 1

This is a cold wet country. Too cold and wet for scratching a living from the soil to ever be terribly appealing. An orange or even some spices are unspeakably exotic. Of course there is always the surplus processed food from time to time, but I'm used to living on root vegetables and kale for half the year, so a chocolate bar would make me vomit.

We live in the corners that are too small, or steep or crooked to be farmed. We none of us really own our land, we have no money to pay lawyers or argue our case. We just rely on the fact that what we have is too trivial for anyone else to want. It is a system that works well enough. My family has been here for a couple of generations, as have most of our neighbours.

If anyone ever listened to us, they would hear that we have a myriad of ideas to expand our foodbase. If we could have some common land then we could each maintain some livestock, we might fish the streams, and create freshwater ponds if the water were allowed to run freely. But this landscape is not here for us. It is concreted over, bulldozed and scraped into whatever form suits the people with power.

We live in this country, but we are not of this country. We are the voteless nameless poor. But I am teaching my children to read, I hope that with an education they might find a better life.

I speak five languages fluently, and have qualifications in three major work areas. I work a standard ten hour day, but have to travel for three hours daily, catching a variety of buses and trains to reach my place of work. I feel tired all the time. When I get home I just sit, sometimes I go straight to sleep. At work I seem to live on coffee, I always have to be courteous and professional. We are monitored constantly, any deviations from our set scripts or designated customer transit routes is punishable by pink ticket, more than three pink tickets in a three month period, or a running average of two for three consecutive periods or one for a year, means that you are automatically dismissed. On dismissal it is virtually impossible to find another job. Every year the universities produce a million new people looking for work, and employers only want the keenest and most enthusiastic of employees. Most of us work an hour or two of unpaid overtime each day. I have spent weekends helping my boss with housework. There is no loyalty here, I hope that my boss is dismissed and I will be a candidate for his job. He is hoping that his boss will be dismissed and he will be a candidate for his job. No one ever retires any more. We are all dismissed before we go grey. I hope to get my children educated and a little spare money saved up, so that when I am no longer quick enough for this work, I can find some lower paid work closer to home. It is not much of a life, you are treated in a vile manner. People that have never done anything better hate anyone that has been something once. Mostly people just commit suicide.

I am just so tired all the time, maybe my children will have a better life. They are learning their languages and programming skills, and not wasting their time in the virtual world or with any books and music. I am so proud of them, they have no personality to speak of at all, they are good citizens.

Friday nights are good. Last week I got some speccy kid from the loop on the ground and kicked his head like a football. He thought he could cut through our patch. The police were round pretty quick and we all legged it. We all save up our credits and get a skinfull on the Friday. The rest of the week is just crap. This place is a dump. They stuck in some stupid art things, but we had them all trashed in no time. Or they send in some poncy do gooders to speak to us. I really fancied one, she had skin smooth like plastic. She was all full of nice words, but you could tell that she couldn't wait to get out this place, back to her nice HabUnit. Not that I needed her, I've got dozens of kids, don't know all their names, but they are all over. Can't be so bothered with the shagging now. The girls just give you earache, and christ they get ugly as they get older. Young they are not bad, but after a few kids and years here they are dog ugly.

I don't care though, get munged all week, save up the credits for a Friday, tried all that book stuff, but it was just rubbish, who wants to spend years learning all that stuff. I don't need to be bossed around, I'm my own man. I've got respect and no one messes with me.

This society is all wrong, if those lazy dogs in the government could just do their job then I would not have to put up with all their rubbish. The Louis Vuitton was caught up in traffic for an age this morning. I'm busy, RupMac (spelt Rupert Mackenzie-Smythe) was at the Pear Tree, had to catch up with him before he headed over to the Dubai TriCity, dreadful garish place, but everyone is there these days, and almost missed him. Saw EmVa, and SoEl, and their usual crowd. Talking about the latest schemes, might go for that derivative shorting carbon trades, that whole system is teetering and I could make a shed load shorting it. I think the organ business is on the way out, been good for a while, but those Chinese monkey boys only have so many kidneys and livers. If you have brains, the contacts and a little hard work, there is always money to be made. When the Louis Vuitton stopped there was some proles moaning on about things. One was crippled, that is just offensive, I should not have to look at that, it is only a few thousand credits to sort out that sort of thing, it is just vulgar going about in that state.

My great grandfather is now on the full battery of support systems. With any luck he might pop his clogs soon, and that will boost the old sadly depleted. Of course my useless grandfather will hog most of the money, but even he could not waste all of it on himself.

EmVa is hopeful that the genetic testing will give us a 99%, don't want any useless prole spas genes, just the best blue blood and LVMH CyberEnce. Get one in the gene tanks, and onto the wating list for EtoSEAD.