The World from Afar

This world . . . what can I say? Much has changed over the years since the technocapital singularity was realized. Businesses were subsumed one after another by exceedingly larger corporate entities that had the finance to invest in better, self-correcting machines, thereby shutting out the competition. This went on for quite some time until there were only three major corporations left, at which point they decided to merge together into a singular, all-encompassing superstructure known as Basilisk. This coalition had more power than anything like the UN, for it had all the money. Strangely enough, the governing bodies that sought to limit corporate influence were not only overthrown by finance capital interests, but were in-fact replaced by them altogether. Basilisk was now the global authority.

However, in order to realize infinite profit potential on a world of finite resources, amidst a climate crisis and human suffering, the heads of this New World Order decided that it was in their best interest to be diligent stewards of the planet as well as benevolent managers of their most precious resource: Humanity. They garnered popular support with the somewhat clever slogan of "Really Look At It." From there, dotted across the horizon, as far as I could see, massive vertical cities were erected to sequester people into these dense nodes so as to allow for the maximum amount of land to be reclaimed by Mother Nature. Everyone participated not just willingly, but gleefully, for to be a part of the cities of Basilisk was to join in a great revitalization effort that would save not only humankind, but Earth as well. To gaze into the eyes of Basilisk was to undergo a kind of ego death, because not being involved with this endeavor was simply illogical. Did Capitalism save the world? I think that it saved itself, and everything else that happened to be of beneficial consequence was merely a necessary condition.

I've never been in this society, nor could I be, even if I wanted to. From it's very inception, I was doomed to be forsaken. So, some of what I've mentioned has been witnessed from afar, high on this hilltop perch overlooking a vast swath of land. The rest has been pieced together from stories and accounts that have come along with the rebels who inevitably arrive of their own volition. They come to me in search of refuge, having themselves been cast out of this new, great civilization. They say that freedom matters more than happiness, and all the cogs in all the cities of Basilisk have merely the illusion of such an ideal. 'What good is stability if you can't choose your vocation?' 'Why concern yourself with democratic voting if you can't challenge the authority of the ruling class?' These are always among the main grievances of this estranged group of kindred spirits. They have elected to forego the comforts of this system in favor of some unalienable rights, and in turn, they have been ostracized, sent out into the wilderness and the old ruins and vestiges of a way of life long since forgotten.

This enclave, while modest in size, has included people from all different walks of life. Well, as different as lives could possibly differ in those monolithic hives. Some were farmers, some were cooks and chefs, and some were artisans that provided for every need and want that was reasonable in the cities. Curiously, one individual came from the upper echelon of society. Granted that everyone was considered equal, she was included in that unquestionable ruling class, the Board of Directors, as they're known. She never said a word regarding her status, and the only identifying symbol was a heart-shaped locket that represented the Directors' undying love for humanity. It was badly chipped and had an 'x' carved across its surface. No one asked about why she was here, and she never brought it up. But she did occasionally mention someone by the name of Adam Campbell. Everyone knows of Adam Campbell, for he is the man that everyone rallies behind as being the great leader of this new world. Yet, it was generally assumed that only those on the Board had any association with him. This woman admitted to never having met him, and that none of her associates had met him either, for that matter. As enigmatic as his presence was, it inspired confidence and reassurance to those of Basilisk, and he was often lauded in very vague ways by these people. No one of the enclave could recall when he came to be this mythical magnate, but simply that he always was.

I've housed generations of these separatists, since the beginning of it all. They come together in their shared affinity for and belief in Liberty. Admirable though it may be, the greed within human nature that arises from a total lack of justice in conjunction with absolute freedom has created power struggles time and time again. Without the resources to properly cultivate a community, living in this position was already considerably difficult. Add to that the fact that their slavery in the cities led to them demanding mastery in this outer world, and it becomes clear to see that survival has been made even more arduous. Some even have grown feral as a result of this lack of societal structure, disappearing into nature to be seen as a shadow on the peripheries of our settled abode beneath a full moon. However, despite the bickering and bloodshed and the ardent opposition against any governance or rule, in a very peculiar way, I have been a kind of king to them. The grievances amongst themselves have mattered not, for they inevitably defer to me, the one who provides them with shelter, safety, and solitude from the roughly recovering wilderness as well as the loathsome inner worlds of Basilisk. I rarely ask for much, but they always defer to my requests. In a way, I'm not much different than Adam Campbell; I, too, am a rallying point, the pillar of stability for this tenuous community.

Still, things are changing, as they always have been. The population of the enclave has slowly been declining over the years; less children are being born, and less fresh blood is coming from the cities. As I've said before, this living situation, removed from the amenities that are offered in the cities, has never been an easy one. With fewer able bodies to keep up with the work, the sustainability required has been on a slow death-spiral. Without newcomers, I hear nearly nothing about Basilisk that I haven't already heard. From what I can see, nothing appears to have changed. Perhaps they've finally achieved homeostasis. Maybe there is an internal conflict, or everyone has collectively ascended into the virtual world. Even from what little I do see, it's far from reliable. I have only one eye now, and that itself has grown glaucous. The outsiders are rarely able to help me help them anymore; they don't have the people or the resources to do so. I've grown disheveled, dilapidated and disfigured, and it has become exceedingly painful for me to attend to my guests, my subjects. As my frame sighs and creaks and shrinks little-by-little with each passing day, I remind myself not to be surprised. I was here at the beginning, and it seems as though I will be here until the end, which is quite soon. In no time at all, the last of the detractors will have come and gone, laid to rest with their values for their crimes against Basilisk. Buried with them will be Liberty, right next to Justice, long since passed from this world. As winter settles in, I will say one last thing: if walls could talk, then this would be my final testament.