Dystopian Rebellion: The Destruction of Normality

According to the ancient calendars from the early ages of technology, the year would have been 3820. That was the year that life as I knew it would be destroyed and rebuilt by the actions of a single person.

Someone once asked me to sum up our world in one word. At the time I hadn’t the slightest idea of what to say; I even gave the stranger an odd glance as I quickly rushed away to attend personal matters. In hindsight, I think I should have said something like homogenous or indistinguishable to that stranger. At the time of that random encounter, I had been working as a data entry supervisor for a payroll conglomeration for the past fifteen years. My life had been driven by my work and this caused me to be very distant from my peers. Much has changed since that anonymous day that flickers in my memory and I will never miss how this world used to be before the dystopian rebellion.

Technology had become implemented throughout the human body a couple hundred years ago and it has become a necessity in modern society. Our world thrives on data and technology. Ocular implants, increased strength and flexibility, hyper-immune systems; all of this was possible in our society and this caused crime rates to quickly diminish as the world became accessible to everyone. Personally, I have several technological implants throughout my body including an ocular implant, nasal filter, vitals monitor, air intake regulator, and a digestive modulator. I also have the standard dexterity and tendon modifiers that every person receives at birth to ensure there is no limb or appendage degradation during our lives. Societies evolution through science and technology has brought us to a stagnation in progress and caused the obliteration of any form of individualized culture because everything has become “unified” or had “already been done”. Even though I am happy with how everything turned out, I was definitely wary in the beginning.

It all started on a regular, excruciatingly boring, day at my office while I was examining the progress reports compiled by my subordinates on the Holopad located on top of my desk. My ocular implant allowed me to rapidly scan the individual documents and the interface that overlaid my vision provided me with extra information derived from my thought patterns. This greatly increased my productivity and allowed me to manage multiple different employees throughout the day. After several hours, I decided it was time for my break which usually consisted of buying nutrient packs and taste simulators that had long since replaced the act of actually eating physical food. Since there aren’t any animals left in this world, it is all we need to consume. I tore off the wrapper for the nutrient pack and poured the dust like contents into my mouth and then I poured the taste simulator, fried chicken, onto my tongue. One of my employees entered the lounge I had been relaxing in and quickly made his way over to where I was sitting.

“Hey, Mark!” my over-enthused colleague exclaimed while quickly taking a seat across from me in the booth.

“How’s it goin’ Cartwright?” I responded in a calm voice. Phillip Cartwright had been a work friend for the past year. “Did you hear back from your cousin about the Lunar Heights apartments on the moon?”

“Oh, right. She called me last night and said they already sold it to a higher bidder. Sorry, I know you wanted to get out of this city.” Cartwright solemnly explained while ordering his own taste simulators and nutrient packs.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep looking, thanks anyways,” I said while I started to scooch my way out of the booth.

“Hold on a minute!” Cartwright said a little too loudly, causing a few other patrons to glance in our direction with distaste. “Did you hear about the new art gallery they just opened? It’s supposed to have extremely ancient artwork from 1986 and even some rare paintings from earlier centuries.”

“Wow, I didn’t know anyone still went to art galleries.” I responded in a disinterested manner. “No one makes traditional art anymore so is it just historical?”

“Yeah it’s actually always empty, they are already thinking about closing it and moving everything to another city.” Cartwright said while chuckling slightly. “I think it’s pointless because all the information surrounding those ancient artworks can be easily accessed through our optical implants.”

“Maybe I’ll go check out the gallery before it leaves.” I responded.

“Don’t waste your time!” Cartwright exclaimed hastily. “I was telling you about it to warn you not to go in case someone else told you to go as a joke.”

“I’m gonna step outside for a few minutes before I head back. Let my secretary know I’ll be back soon enough when you go to work.” I instructed Cartwright before I left the booth and heading to the balcony on the other side of the lounge.

I stepped through the automatic door and onto the balcony that overlooked the surrounding district. The towering buildings dotted the skyline with the bright lights illuminating the surroundings. The sun had set a couple hours ago and already, the district was full of people carrying out their evening plans. I rested my elbows on the railing and watched the people scurrying around, always looking as if they were on a dire mission. I’m sure the same could be said for me. Little to no interaction occurred between the people scurrying around the buildings and walkways. This detachment had become a normalcy due in part to the destruction of individuality. Everyone was taught at a young age the same morals, ideals, and beliefs (or lack there of) around the entire world and no one dared to interrupt the status quo.

“I think I will visit that gallery,” I murmured to myself before quickly spinning around and heading out of the lounge. Before I even exited the building I already had exact direction on my optical interface the led me directly to the gallery, that happened to be just a few blocks away.

As expected, the gallery was completely empty and the front desk attendant looked extremely preoccupied with his Holopad. He glanced up at me before silently pointing to the sign on his desk and returning to whatever he was doing. The contents of the sign explained how to explore the gallery and emphasized not to touch anything. I started walking throughout the different curated rooms and it amazed me since this was my first time setting foot in an art gallery. I had never seen these types of materials before and you could actually see the brushstrokes on every painting. Instantly my optical implant began streaming insane amounts of data pertaining to every artwork and even showing digital reproductions of them. Upon closer scrutiny, the mechanical reproductions did no justice to these paintings. I reached for my right temple and slightly pressed in the center. This deactivated my optical implant and I gazed at the glorious paintings before me in their natural and authentic splendor. Such beauty, uniqueness, and inspiration should be shared with the world, not abandoned in this depressing building. I crept closer to the paintings and gazed at the marvelous craftsmanship and the different techniques used to add texture and mass to the paintings. How could I have missed this wondrous and self fulfilling practice? Had art history been completely removed from general education? My heart began racing as I thought of how misconstrued our world had become in its goal of unification. The degradation of culture into a homogenous society had diminished our individuality to extinction.

I moved throughout the gallery and carefully analyzed every artwork to fully embrace its “aura” as a certain theorist put it. I stared at those paintings for what seemed like hours until I walked home in a daze without a care in the world. I realized that my life had been a lie until this point and it had been dull beyond belief. I had traversed this world through a blur of work and temporary relationships and I finally awoke to the errors of my past on that day. This utopia that we live in is only a shell of what it could become if everyone expressed their individuality. The lack of expression in this world had to change even if some believe that it is too late.

I decided on that day to end my grueling lifestyle and meager career to explore these lost artistic techniques, by any means necessary. If that meant completely restructuring this stale world I would not hesitate to fight for the revival of culture and individuality. I will lead this dystopian rebellion and return culture and individuality to the world. A life without expression isn’t a life at all, it is just a shell of an existence. We must always fight for our freedom.