I, after leading the vanguard into establishing the DOTP, will ban sex.
You walk out onto the street. People are milling around happily. Buildings are no longer designed with imposing security features. Violence has all but disappeared thanks to sudden material abundance. People are no longer forced to purchase a beverage just to sit down and talk in public spaces. The architecture has been redesigned to be more accommodating for pedestrians. Seating areas seem widely available. People sit and talk among themselves. Even strangers seem capable of breaking into conversation easily.
You feel as if you’ve wandered into a massive public museum, or some other noncommercial public space, but even that analogy doesn’t feel quite right. You realize that you’ve never been to a place quite like this.
You decide to take the train to your old home, but you’re confused as you reach the train station, and find the turnstiles have disappeared. You walk in unobstructed. The screen indicates that your train will arrive shortly. You assume that you’ve arrived just on time, but then you realize that the track has been expanded massively. Automated maglev trains glide silently in and out of the station every thirty seconds. No advertisements are pasted on the station’s walls - these have been replaced with noticeboards informing commuters of gatherings or work opportunities.
Commuters occupy themselves with tablet-style devices, but unlike in the capitalist era, they do not seem to be distracting themselves with facebook or games. Some seem to be reading complex scientific and philosophical treatises. Unburdened by the mind-numbing hours of work, they have the time and energy to expand their minds. Others seem to be watching live-feeds of independently produced entertainment. Total automation has apparently allowed people to spend their time more creatively.
You ask a fellow commuter about recent events. You ask about unemployment. You ask about financial collapse, austerity, the wars in the Middle East, and the possibility of inter-imperial conflict. He smiles wisely, and says, “Those are all things of the past now, comrade.” He speaks with a thick German accent. His snowy-white beard makes him look like a professional Santa Claus. His fashion sense seems anachronistic in this future era. It is then that you realize who he is.
It’s Marx.
You begin to sob as you feel a burden lift from your body. A weight disappears that you didn’t even know was there. Marx places a paternal hand on your shoulder, and as he draws you into a loving embrace, he says, “I told you it was inevitable, comrade.”
