There was a point in time, very far back then, when this city was not just a land full of waste and empty faces. Then, the people of this city actually had the smear of hope painted on their eyes, but all that changed when the high authorities decided to assign a singularity chip to every living soul living in the city. They called it Project 2121; a biometric system in which the elites without any form of constitutional hindrances accessed people’s information and behaviors through the Grid Act 20. Their proposed plan was to obtain full control of every person living in the city. This highly budgeted project was the beginning of the eternal decay of this place once called the crocodile city. Now, all one could see were empty homes and half-robotized beggars. There were no longer baked beans stands, or the famous metro-complex buildings that once housed the famous 29’ museum; now this entire city only hosted wasted dreams.
Outsiders who dared passing through this city could clearly see all the so-called efforts~ by~ the so-called framed elites. The year was 2121, and this place was still a desolated grid; an abandoned system run by corrupt administrators. Rain no longer blessed us with its many droplets, but it did not matter much because, no one cared for the scientific tokens from the clouds. The air here was unfair and relentlessly brutal. People had dejection evidently stamped on their faces; a few looked like they were missing their souls. Misdirection from the city commissioners squeezed this place into a big pile of liquidated trash. Everyone covered their mouths for fear for the bitter smell of death.
“Touch me, and I go kill you,” was the new anthem around these parts. Years of utter desperation had corrupted the masses including the spiritual heads; the greedy grew more horns, and the blood thirsty were much hungrier for flesh. There was nothing futuristic about this dead city, and everyone knew that the fore-tellers of the old had lied; this place was now a vintage mess. A city where most inhabitants could not tell between day and night was only destined to crumble.
The framed elites like gods poured down their retribution to the masses down below. This was not the city my father had once told me about. The once beautiful crocodile city was now referred to as Project Succubus by outsiders.
But soon enough I got tired of eating the same crumbs over and over again.
And after that day the elites announced that access to the Moon system had been permanently cancelled, I finally decided that I had to bring an end to this life of ominous disdain. I promised myself I would stand up and fight these so called prioritized monkeys, but in order to begin the long journey of struggle, I had to seek wisdom from an old soul. So there I went, to the house of the Ivory Calabash.
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