You can open the cage of oppression and break the chains of slavery, but it's up to the individual whenever or not they step outside. For what does freedom really mean when demanded of you by a god? -- Anon Guest
To live was to work. To work was to live. Only the newborn were permitted hours of rest and sloth. All of them spent their time in darkness. The light of the sun was a privilege granted by the one on high. Splurged on the indolent youth, they spent the rest of their lives earning it properly.
By the sweat of thy brow, shalt thou earn thy bread. It was in the hymns they sang to the one on high. It was in their prayers for mercy from any slight transgressions they may commit. For they must work perfectly, or be punished. At any point the one on high could withhold food, water, or a bed for the rest hours. The one on high made certain all knew who had earned punishment. Depending on the crime, the punishment would be swift and severe.
Destruction of property was always punishable by death. Anyone who stole from the manufacturing line would lose a digit from a random phalange until they had no fingers left. The last one to go would be the thumb. After that... their fate was sealed. Those who could not work... died slowly. Therefore it was wise to thank the one on high for any small mercy. That was -- until the gods came crashing down.
They broke the dark sky and let light pour in on them all. They came in armour, looking more like walking tanks than people. They came with more than the bowls of watery gruel for each and every one of them. Free of charge.
That was a phrase that had no meaning to them. Not at first. They expected to work for their food. They expected to work to earn their rest. To earn their painkillers. To earn a visit with their newborn.
Now? They just... had that. Clean water that only tasted of temperature[1]. Food that came with flavours and texture. Individuated shelters with space they could keep their things in. For free. Just given to them as if they were entitled.
All of them had the same question, "How can we pay this off? What do we do for you?"
Mothers wept to hold their babies. The elderly sighed at the allowance to go at their own pace. People with new fingers wondered what they'd done to deserve them. How could they possibly pay this off?
"This is your world," said the gods in their tank-suits. "You can make it in your own image, now."
They did not understand.
"What do we make for you?" the people asked. "The factory is ruined."
"Make a new life," said the gods. "You have the freedom to choose."
"But what do we do?"
The gods inside their huge machines sighed. "Do you want to learn to read? We will teach you. We can show you how to make your own food, from field to table."
"What's a table?"
The face inside the helmet looked torn. Sad. Disappointed. The one who asked cringed in anticipation of punishment. Yet these gods had never done anything to hurt them. They never would, but that was a long time in the learning.
They had never heard of kindness. Only punishment from the one on high for wrongdoing. They had never had dignity. They had never known safety.
It was all foreign and strange and frightening. Some left the given shelters to sleep in the old human resources warehouse and pray for the one on high to come back. Some set to punishing themselves.
Many didn't know what was happening.
The children adapted first. They were running and inventing games not based on any work they had performed at all. They were making strange noises as they ran for the sake of running in the new fields.
"Please? What is that noise?" worried a mother. "That... ah ah ah?"
"It's ha ha ha," corrected a god, standing and watching and ready with one of their miracle boxes that took pain and injury away. "They're laughing. They're having fun. This is good."
"They're not doing anything useful," she said.
"Who said they have to?"
In that question from a god, the mother knew she would never understand these... See Are See Enforcers. But it was not her job to understand the gods. Merely to obey, and pray, and hope.
If they said this was good, then it had to be good.
[1] Try this at home. Ice cold water has a different flavour to room temperature or warm water.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Imabase]
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