As such, please don't join this thread in-character, though comments are welcome. We'll be keeping this a 2-person roleplay until it ends or until we decide we'd like a 3rd and maybe a 4th. Thanks!))((EDIT: Decided I don't like it. Probably will scrap the thread and start a new one. XD))
The date is July 3, 2844. The time is 24:45h; the 24-hour day was officially abolished in June of 2180 when it was determined that the rotation time of the Earth had increased by approximately 60 minutes since 2000. Humankind now lives in underground cities whose immense domed roofs and ceilings mimic sunlight and weather patterns. The majority of citizens live in immense but luxurious apartment complexes. Water is created in abundance through reverse hydrolysis, and most people eat tasteless pellets that contain perfect balances of nutrients. Those who are 'well off' are granted the luxury of access to the fruit and vegetables produced by immense plantations, which also provide oxygen for the underground settlements.
Being 'well off' isn't the same as it was back in 2000. Capitalism fell in 2100 after some unknown coup or cataclysm proved to the world that the system didn't work. Instead, the world in 2844 is governed by science. The governmental system is best described as a theocracy, only no worship takes place. Instead, rank is determined by people's aptitude for science or technological innovation. The people in a position analogous to 'high priests' are known as Omniscients, and are what our culture would call 'technical geniuses;' people seemingly born with a deep understanding of how things work. Conversely, the lowest rung on the social ladder, which still affords luxuries equivalent to a year-2000 middle class family, belongs to those who are in some way mentally challenged or simply not technologically able. Perfectly normal people who can't understand medium-level physics or build a circuit board from scratch are considered somehow sub-par, and must endure being looked down on by the entirety of the social pyramid.
The Omniscients head a government which rules over the people in a perfectly benign way, if the people themselves are to be believed. I prefer to think that their theocracy is actually a rule of fear, and everyone's afraid to say what they think... except that as far as I can tell, everyone's educated to a certain degree, and nearly everybody is of 'above average intelligence...' Though I guess that would be the new 'average,' now, wouldn't it? It's not that they're too stupid to realize that something's wrong... it's that they accept it entirely, even the 'Inept,' enough to make me think that maybe I have it wrong.
The culture of 2844 is so different from my own that I simply can't accept many things that these people take for granted, like the idea that technological aptitude is the sole important measure of a person's worth. I'm writing this journal on my laptop in the hopes that if I can locate and use the time machine belonging to the man who brought me here, it'll be in some way helpful to the society of the year 2000. Perhaps this future is unavoidable, simply the next logical step in humankind's cultural evolution. Certainly there's no poverty or unhappiness that I've seen, which is certainly an improvement over the time I left, but to me it seems so... empty. Science and technology is the only remaining drive for humankind, and everyone else seems to exist only to allow the Omniscients to continue their research and development.
Regardless of internal confusion, I can't afford to stay here. I'm hiding in the apartment of a man by the name of "Vince 6292460," (I read it from the outside of his door.) The number apparently represents a person's precedence amongst the entire world's population-- how it's determined, I have no idea. No one has a last name, and familial ties are considered unimportant at best. Women are given an option to raise their own children, but they can just as easily send the kids to be raised by certified professionals whose entire job is to raise kids from birth to school age (four) at which point they are sent to a boarding-school-like facility. At least half of the women do so; apparently womens' food tablets contain 'oxytocin suppressors,' which inhibit the hormone that supposedly causes maternal instinct, among other things. Creepily enough, this seems to work. Are people really shallow enough that shutting down a hormone removes familial love?
In any case, I had best get moving. The Government, even if everyone here believes it's benevolent, certainly doesn't like me.
--Final entry--
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smiling bemusedly, Vince stared for a bit longer at the primitive screen of the device. It seemed to be nothing more than a computer, despite its size. No extra features, nothing requiring the amount of processing power such a large body could allow... but that would make sense, if the machine was truly from the year 2000. He quickly glanced over the portions of the message which mentioned "my time," and "the year 2000." He would be prepared to dismiss the whole message as a hoax, if it weren't for the machine it was displayed on.
Sliding his finger across the tactile-receptive pad that controlled the cursor on the graphical display, and pressing the large leftmost button with a satisfying click sound, Vince marveled as a drop-down menu appeared from the 'File' option he'd chosen. Clearly labeled buttons, as if deliberately made understandable even for the Inept, indicated the meaning of their choices:
-New
-Open
-Save
-Save As
-Print Preview
-Close
If this machine were for some reason designed to print the documents it held on paper or plastic foil, that would explain the size to some extent; but the use of inks and paper were considered luxurious and rather pointless. Having a matter-based copy of a document was inefficient when data could be transferred and displayed infinitely more quickly. Simply out of curiosity, Vince clicked "Print."
Hardware not found.
He almost laughed. Apparently a separate piece of hardware was necessary simply for the primitive machine to print the document. A cursory glance also informed him that there was no slot in the side of the machine large enough to expel more than a very small piece of paper. Backtracking to the File menu, Vince clicked Save As. A simplistic directory tree appeared, with a confusingly large empty section which seemed to be there for no reason but to waste space. Rolling his eyes at the imperfect design, Vince noted that a file name identical to that which appeared at the top of the screen resided within the directory: "Research Journal June 2000."
He clicked Save, and waited with amusement as the machine whirred for a few seconds, the cursor changing from an absurd arrow to an hourglass-- an antiquated concept for time measurement, only still known for its symbolism-- then closed the directory window on its own. Returning to the File menu, Vince moved the cursor down to the 'Open' option, then froze as the machine emitted a soft 'pop' noise. Was it about to explode, or some such?
Instead, Vince's eyes were attracted to the bottom right of the display, where a series of icons resided. A message box, which like the textual document itself bore large, wasteful margins around the letters, appeared above a two-dimensional depiction of a cylinder. "Battery Low: Please Recharge."
Battery? Vince cocked his head in confusion, worried that he may have stumbled on something too complex. Then it dawned on him. "Battery" referred to the machine's power supply; perhaps computers in the year 2000 ran on a different form of electricity, or on gas or oil or some such thing. He frowned. Recharging it would be inadvisable until he knew whether electricity at 300V and 1A was acceptable for this device, though as long as it used electricity a transformer shouldn't be too difficult to create. He pressed the button that bore a depiction of a broken circuit- that one, at least, was obvious- and held it down until with a faint whine, accompanied by the graphical interface going dark, the machine shut down.
Vince was amused. Even if this were a hoax, it would be an interesting exercise to see if he could recharge, repair, and maybe upgrade the supposedly ancient device. He would dismantle it when he got home from work, but he needed to sleep so that he would be fully functional in the morning. Vince placed the dormant computer in the hidden compartment he'd found it in when he'd come back from work that afternoon. He'd never have found it if its relatively loud whining noise hadn't been audible in the silence of his apartment. As he returned to his bed, Vince noticed scuff marks on his floor that he hadn't seen earlier, which might have indicated a brief scuffle. Perhaps there really had been a man from the year 2000 here, taken by the Government for his own good.
The young man scoffed, chiding himself for his unscientific theorizing. "Time travel is an impossibility, and the Omniscients have given no indication that they have ever done research in that direction. More likely, the neighbor's child was simply exercising his creativity in a harmless prank."
Still, unscientific or not, Vince had to wonder. No one made such user-friendly interfaces any more, as far as he knew. Doing so was simply not practical, and would result in a waste of time and resources that was not worth additional usability for the Inept. He shrugged to himself as he reclined on the comfortable mattress of his sleeping quarters. Effective sleep required an emptying of the mind, so he ceased to concern himself with such trifles. Time enough for amusement after work the next day.
Rawr.
Fear me.
