The Year is 2038
The year is 2038, we all work in Amazon Distribution Centers and AWS server farms, or Google clickbot farms. We are paid in 2 competing currencies. Amazon Prime Fun Bucks, and Google Dollary-doos. Facebook has adopted the APFB standard. We cannot use the internet because it only used for the blockchain. We still have no idea what it does. However, GPUs and ASICs are still screaming Numberwang at one another to make buttcoiners “money” they cannot exchange for any of the accepted scrips. Their incessant mining also causes mini brown outs every couple hours.
This is life in 2038. We have adapted to working for our sworn megacorps. We are assured our APFB and Google Dollary-doos are competitive against the Baidu Nickel, Tencent Dollar, and AliCorp Shilling.
The God Emperor of Mars, Elon Musk, still hates us peasants on Earth, but we hope the tenuous truce is enough to keep him from unleashing the vampiric Peter Thiel on us, and bombarding us with space-teslas. Our situation with Mars looks bleak, however, there is hope.
President Zuckerberg has promised us that God Emperor Elon Musk does not want to attack us. He just wants to give us the enlightenment obtained from Spice Melange, as Mars is actually Arrakis. He has sent a sample of a Marsian dead sand worm as proof. I do not have this optimism. I already know that God Emperor Musk just wants to give the workers in the AWS server farms and the FB datamining factories his psychotropic so we will be more productive, and give Overlord Bezos and President Zuck the motivation to form an unholy alliance with God Emperor Musk. He wants to turn the “smart” people of Earth into Spice addicts, so we will eventually emigrate to the “utopia” of Mars.
Mars is far from utopic. There are daily riots at the Tesla factories. There are reports of deaths at his rocket factories.
God Emperor Musk runs Mars like he read the box for Terraforming Mars, and then put it down and walked away saying “yes this what I will do.”
Everyone at my AWS serverfarm factory is on edge when the first shipment of Spice arrives from Mars. I am told I will be penalized if I don’t partake in it. This is the life of someone working for the most useful corporate scrip in the North American Bloc. I have to imbibe, or I will be fired, and not be able to use my Alexa Bot or spend my APFB on food and toiletries.
Sure, the Googlers lose their 1hr of internet access a day if they are fired or quit, but their dollary-doos are exchanged at a 5:1 rate for APFB. Their clickfarms do not pay well, I do not have the skills to be a google thoughtpolice officer, or work in any of their competing server farm. I guess this is a thing I have to do…to keep my livelihood.
I take the initial hit of Spice. I feel energized and alive. This is how I was supposed to feel.
At this moment, God Emperor Elon Musk won the war. The most powerful faction, succumbed to his drug.
Not a single space-Tesla was fired. Peter Thiel was not released on the under 30 population of Earth. At this moment, God Emperor Musk knew he won.
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