Blockchained is a short story set in a dystopian one-world-government future where blockchain technology has been used to enslave the people of the world.
Part One
Part Two
Arriving at the United Nation Tower, I find that I still have eighteen more minutes before I need to be at my post. I was so eager to get out the house and escape my thoughts that I hadn't considered how preferable the affliction of a torturous mind is to being here.
Ever since my very first day—long before the incident with Lady Gotha---I have always felt very unsettled around this place. In spite of the building being the largest I have ever seen, the halls are desolate, with a macabre presence lurking in the emptiness. At least, that's how it feels on each of the twelve floors I am permitted access to. Who knows what goes on from the thirteenth floor upwards, where all the controllers dwell.
Even here, in the car park as I wait to go inside, I am unable to escape the feeling of unease. Though there is only six windows on each of the one-hundred-and-eleven floors that are transparent, through the blacked-out ones that remain I can feel the ominous stare of the watchers.
I guess it makes no difference. Be it their eyes, those of my reoccurring dream, or the camera fitted on the dashboard in front of me— I will never be free from observation, and I need to start getting used to that.
With sixteen minutes still remaining before I must be at work, I decide to kill time—and my imagination—by reading yesterday's Daily Dispatch. It's this new world's answer to the newspaper. In truth, it's little more than a directive of newly imposed rules and regulations, not-so-subtly masquerading as information.
I reach under the seat and grab the distraction. I already skimmed through this last night, but failed to commit any level of attention to it. What a surprise.. More rules.
"Children will now be required to attend the Education Program from age 1."
I wish I could say I'm surprised by this. I was when they changed it to age 2. And again when they changed it to 18 months. But by then I had caught on to the pattern. I'll give it another 6 months before they are demanding government education from birth. God. After trying for so long, I never thought I could be so glad not to have any children of my own.
"In response to reports of malnutrition, D-Class citizens will now be granted free nutrition."
If I was still in possession of a sense of humour, I'm certain I would laugh out loud at this one. Nutrition? I am a B-Class citizen—the highest class. Yet, not even the food I have access to contains any sustenance of value. I worry for those poor souls. They would probably be better off eating nothing than whatever is planned to be given to them.
With the dispatch serving only to deepen my depression, I decide to head into the Tower for work. As per usual, I exit the tiny single-seater vehicle with some difficulty. I don't think these things were made for people of my height— but I won't complain. It's better than walking. I never have the energy to do that nowadays.
Making my way across the vacant car park, a sudden gust of wind howls passed my ears and sends a shiver of coldness up my spine. The sound thrusts me back into my dream momentarily, reminding me of the echoing cries of anguish that cause me to wake every time. Who do they belong to?
I hurriedly make my way to the huge doors on the tower, eager to avoid any more of the wind's uninvited reminders. The bio-metric retinal scanner permits me access to the building, and with the all-too-familiar sound of air pressure being released, the giant iron doors begin to slide open.
Here we go again..
