Raindrops Rising
"We are many. We are one. We have seen what has become of this world, and who is responsible. We demand punishment. We demand repayment. We do not forget."
The message blared on almost every screen in the city, but few paid it any heed. Revolutions came and went like the rain in Incaster. Things were Bad™. They always had been. Anyone who tried to make them better Disappeared™. It was a wonder that people kept trying.
Trevor shuddered in the pouring rain as he jabbed at the vending machine blurred by the downpour. He just needed sugar, and cheaply. Booze would be better but you couldn't get it from a vending machine and he needed it now.
He chose the cheapest item on the menu, whatever run-off sugary mess they decided to brand as budget.
"Wouldn't you prefer an ice cold Mora-Cola™?" the machine chimed.
"I would prefer you to fuck off," he muttered, flicking the option away.
It had been another day in paradise™. A day where he had worked in pain for hours and was expected to be grateful that the benevolent Corporate Family™ had taken him under its wing. They couldn't pay him enough, of course. They had so many people to look after that they couldn't possibly pay them all well– regardless of the company profits. His second job paid better, but it came with its own risks. Smuggling in a city like this... he wouldn't even know if they had found him, he would just Disappear™.
It was why messages like the one blazing on every possible screen made him angry. How could he risk more than he already did? It was always the same. "Say no to your boss", "reject the corporate machine", but what exactly did that achieve? Those that did just... stopped existing, all trace of them erased. And for what? Yet another stillborn revolution? He slurped his sugar hit angrily. The people leading the revolutions were almost as bad as the corporations in charge. How could they not see that there was nothing the everyman could do? Not quickly enough, anyway.
More people were unhappy in Incaster than not. It was unsurprising, giving the strict class divides, long working days, and general grime and slime of the less affluent areas of the city. People were always unhappy, people always spoke up, and people were always arrested. A long, long time ago, it had stopped being worth trying. And yet... there were always speakers and always people who listened, even in the pissing rain, like today.
He almost went into the back of someone as he rounded the corner into a modest crowd. A speaker stood on a box a few feet in front of them and everyone was captivated. Trevor could only sigh. Another one.
There was no point in pushing through the crowds, it would only cause trouble, and trouble would be here soon enough. He just needed to be gone when it arrived. But then, it was never the crowds who got caught, it was the speakers. Nice words were nice up to the point you were risking your life for them, at least, that was the sentiment of Incaster. It was for survival. Trevor certainly couldn't blame anyone for it, but he did resent the way they acted as though they would support the speaker until the shit hit the fan. The least they could do was be honest from the start.
But then maybe everybody knew better. The speakers stood up here saying the same things again and again, to the same results. It was almost another part of daily life. The weekly revolution, just going through the motions.
"We are the majority in this city," the speaker said. "We are reality. We are power. We have infinite potential. We can make the world what we want. Reality can be what we make it."
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SmackDown: Back to Our Roots
Science FictionOur previous two SmackDowns were both massive successes, and it's high time for another. You might remember the last one was heavy on the "game" elements, maybe even too heavy. This time we're going back to the basics and keeping it simple. It's jus...
