#original dystopia

[maryannecrimsworth]

Original Project: METANOEO

Synopsis: this is the first chapter of my original book: Metanoeo. In this story, the AI ruled nation, Cohen, is divided in four cities. Burgo, the city of the matriarchs, has a role-reversed 18th century society, where the woman rule and the men obey. The apex of feminism can be found here. Welcome to Burgo!

Tropes: matriarch and debutant boy; girl boss and male wife

Characters: Naia and Esben Malkyn (their edits and aesthetics are on the end of this post)

Genre: Dystopia Word count: 2540

If you want to know more about my original projects, leave a comment below and follow me on Instagram @m.torresiona

Esben smelt the smoke permeating the hallway before he even heard the matriarch's footsteps reaching the entrance hall. The thudding sound came much later, powerful and slow, when the boy's nostrils were already burning and he held his breath so as not to cough.

He always recognized the woman by the sound of her typical pacing and the smell of imported tobacco - perhaps if he heard her laugh or smelled her perfume, he wouldn't even recognize her. And when the woman arrived, it could only mean one thing: they were going out.

Esben finished dressing up and took one last look in the mirror before running to the door and opening it. He managed to get out a second before she called him, and he felt very proud of his own competence. His excited smile, however, was noticed with indifference by the woman, who turned to knock on the door of another room.

— Dad, are you ready? — she questioned, and swallowed the thin metal cylinder again. Esben remained holding his breath.

— Yes, my child. — a weak, sweet voice answered, and the man appeared from behind the door. Very tidy and with his hair combed back as usual. It made no sense for an old man like him to tidy his hair like young Esben. It would be vulgar.

The matriarch analyzed his appearance for long seconds. She seemed satisfied. She turned to the iron butler at the end of the hall and dictated:

— "We're going out.

And out they went, the three of them enclosed in the long car where they spent most of their time together. The only environment in which she did not smoke and her father did anything but nod affectionately. In those few minutes that preceded another of Esben's great sufferings, the elders politely talked about what was coming next: another luxurious ball.

The father updated the matriarch on the reputations and histories of the guests, the matriarch told about the status and condition of possible suitors; a preparation for facing all the well-dressed and ill-informed men and women in yet another gigantic hall that stank of alcohol.

Esben was supposed to pay attention to the conversation, but, as usual, he spent his precious time in the car taking deep breaths and remembering everything he was supposed to do. When the matriarch asked his opinion about someone, he was unable to answer. Then his father would intervene and Esben would see the woman's eyes turn with indifference once again.

He didn't understand the reason for that repetition. They had known the families invited for generations, and the matriarch already knew that no one's finances had changed drastically in the last five years. It wasn't as if there was some nasty rumor she needed to know about, so his father's lines were insignificant. They always had been.

Or, at least, they were until today. Today the matriarch didn't look away and decided to repeat the question until Esben heard it.

- What do you suggest? - her tone of voice was a little louder, a little more authoritative than usual. The boy cringed and tried to remember what he had heard before the question.

He couldn't, he hadn't heard anything.

- Mrs. Malkyn wants to know what you intend to do this evening. Would you prefer to dance in the ballroom or enjoy the breeze in the garden?

- Ah," Esben choked, surprised that he could choose. He didn't even have to think about it, "The garden, of course! That is, if it's to your liking.

- Yes, it is. - And that's all the matriarch said.

His father later explained to him that now that he had made his debut, he was ready to be a man, and since everyone already knew about his dancing skills, isolating himself was a great way to attract interested suitors He would isolate himself from the chaos of the party so that they would come to him - and they did. Although excited to escape the loud conversations and heavy drinking, the garden of the Watkins family mansion filled up as soon as they noticed the young man's presence there.

He couldn't tell which was more unbearable: the dozens of older women who waited impatiently for him to say something, or his companions, a few younger men, who tried to attract attention and dance, especially with the matriarch.

She politely declined and stood by Esben's side. It was like a dispute as to which suffocated him more: the proximity of the older woman or his posture correcting vest.

The matriarch's fingers brushed his suddenly, and she indicated to him a woman, subtly, staring at him. She looked different from the others: she looked even older and sterner, and she approached him with a determination that repelled all the other suitors. Literally: the women turned away from her like the sea in a miraculous biblical event.

- Mrs. Goodwin. - the matriarch greeted her, doing Esben a favor by reminding him of the old friend's name. He at least assumed he already knew her. - It's been a long time!

- What can I say, Malkyn? The county is in turmoil, you know very well. - Esben raised his eyebrows. He had never heard someone refer to the matriarch like that. Or talk. What kind of interaction was that?

- But please, my presence here is not related to business, my dear friend, at least not official business. - she glimpsed Esben. - I have come to this dazzling ball to disprove the rumor I have been told: that Naia Malkyn's younger brother is the most beautiful and gentle man in the entire state. - her voice warbled as if in a speech, loud enough for everyone to hear, soft enough to please everyone's ear. It had a conspiratorial, mysterious ring to it, which ended with a heavy sigh from the woman:

- But, how unfortunate!, I will not be able to fulfill my goal...After all, the Malkyn boy has indeed become charming. - And then her eyes rose to him again, and everyone turned to him again, and he felt that his face would explode again.

His whole skin burned and he wanted to run from the woman's words, as if they were a trap, like he was a wild animal, like they were an elegant-looking but disgusting cheese inside, reigning in his mousetrap. He was already wringing his hands and was about to pierce the sea of fish-women that was drowning him when the hand brushed against his shoulder again. Now it was deeper, longer, more intentional: a lull in the chaos, a touch of silence between all the burning in his head.

- What is the use of so many pretty words if the "Malkyn boy" is still thirsty? - the matriarch's question was so sharp, so pointed, that a few eyebrows were raised in the crowd. The persevering lady, however, was unaffected.

- On my way, ladies and gentlemen. - Goodwin warned, before turning around, causing the same effect as before on her way: total repulsion.

Mr. Malkyn was now busy, everyone had heard, but only the women decided to move away. They did not like to be around a lady as direct and unmannerly as Goodwin.

A considerable part of the Malkyn group of followers had dispersed, but the needy men were still there, and so were the desperate women.

Even in such a muffled, noisy, sweaty environment, Esben heard a low, rhythmic, desperate noise echoing through all the footsteps. He looked in its direction and saw his father. He stopped, trembling, confused, stared at the matriarch for a single second, and then turned away. He left the crowd before Mrs. Goodwin returned with two drinks.

Lemonade for her, blue liqueur for the boy. Future man. Was that the drink of a future man? Esben tried to remember the meaning of that drink from his etiquette lessons. It must not have been good, because Naia grimaced and then squeezed his shoulder, saying:

- Good conversation, gentlemen. - But she left. And with her went all the men, and the women who had finally given up on Esben.

- A little peace at last. - Goodwin celebrated, bringing her drink to her lips.

- Don't you like parties either?

- " Either"?

First mistake, right at the start.

- Um... yes, I prefer the gardens to the halls, ma'am. The air, the sky... I like them.

- And there's no air in the halls? - she asked, frowning so seriously that Esben stammered. - It's as if there isn't, isn't it? So stuffy and hot!

Her statement allowed the young man to breathe. No mistakes so far.

- Indeed! - Esben laughed with relief. - If I may ask, what do you do for a living?

- Oh, and I thought I wouldn't talk about work today! - Goodwin sighed, half annoyed, half disappointed. Had he said something wrong? Esben didn't know, but the woman continued:

- I grow apples and strawberries, Mr. Malkyn. Your sister helps with my planting.

- So you work in the Northern Region?

- That's right. - And she smiled as she looked at him. - Why do you seem so excited?

- Oh, it's no big deal, I just really like this region. I love the architecture and the plantations.

- You're not going to tell me you're not a city man? - she laughed with bewilderment and admiration.

- I'm not! - he laughed too. - The mountains and the trees... I really envy anyone who can live in this area!

The woman looked at him again, this time more slowly and calmly, and said in a delighted, deep voice: - Good to know.

And she would still be looking at him like that - dangerously sweet - if Esben's father hadn't intervened.

- Excuse me, Mrs. Goodwin. - the older man said. - We need to get inside. - and pulled his son by the arm to the center of the huge, crowded and suffocating hall.

- Dad, what's wrong? We're staying in the garden, have you forgotten? - he asked, involuntarily cringing at the noise.

- Keep your voice down and straighten up! - He spat with a fury that transformed his face. - Have you gone mad? Talking to Emily Goodwin like that? One wrong move with that scum and your life will be ruined!

- Father! - Esben pleaded as he tried to break free from his grip. It was impressive: the man was holding his arm elegantly, pretending to have the right posture to stick to his son, but in reality he was pinning him down and squeezing him with tremendous force. - Stop, stop! Naia allowed the conversation!

His father finally stopped twisting his skin. His face, once bathed in angry red, took on a pale hue that distressed Esben so much that all the shouting and music around him became insignificant.

- Father?

- It's getting late. - he suddenly commented. - Get ready to go. - and then released him and disappeared into the crowd.

His timing, as always, was precise: the hostess had already instructed the musicians to stop playing soon, and some families were already saying a long goodbye to other guests.

The party had passed, perhaps for the first time, quickly, and Esben went back to looking for Goodwin in the crowd. He couldn't just walk away and disappear from the lady like that.

However, before he could even find her, he was cornered by half a dozen other madams, and unnecessarily gentle and long goodbyes trapped him until his father pulled him by the arm again.

This time, he was accompanied by Mrs. Malkyn, and the family found themselves locked in the car within minutes.

The father, indignant, rattled around inside the car in such a way that even the matriarch couldn't ignore him. She stared at him endlessly, as if her brain was fighting with her lips and neither of them really knew what to do. Finally, they returned to South Central Manor, and Esben fled to his room while Naia carried his fight to the entrance hall.

The father, on the other hand, didn't bother to stop himself. His fists flew open and his hairstyle fell apart as soon as Esben had left the room.

- Naia, what's on your mind? - he screamed, his whole body shaking and boiling, his hands aggressive as he gestured. - Goodwin? Emily Goodwin? Do you really want your brother to become a heretic?

- A heretic?

- A nobody, living on the margins of society like the filthy Goodwin! - he laughed scornfully, an uncontrolled outpouring of anger. - A farmer! Is your brother going to have a farmer's wife now? - And he shouted and shouted until her ears hurt. She didn't even understand what was wrong with Goodwin.

- She lives in the country, just the way he likes it. What's the problem?

- The problem, you stupid girl, is that Goodwin is a disgrace! The woman doesn't go a month without appearing in the worst sessions of every show and you want to make her Esben's companion? - Naia could feel her father's saliva against her skin. - NO! NEVER!

- You don't get to decide that. - she retorted with the same force and firmness as the slap that hit her in the face.

- Listen here, young lady. You're not going to ruin this family name. Your mother worked too hard to get us to the top for you to ruin everything with Goodwin!

- Nothing's happened yet. - Naia assured her, ignoring the pain and numbness spreading across her cheek. - I'll fix it tomorrow.

And that was all the father needed to hear. He went to his quarters without making another sound.

Now the matriarch had to go to her office and catch up on business. In the city of Burgo, many deals took place at night, so she had to be ready and willing to attend to any client. And so she did: she walked without blinking to the other side of the house, crossing endless empty corridors until she reached her office door. But she stopped.

She stopped with her hand already on the edge of the doorknob, hesitating a few centimeters to reach it. She stopped, sighed, and when she felt that her face still hurt, she turned around and almost ran to her brother's room. For a second, she forgot to knock on the door, and was about to open it when a voice came from behind her.

- We have a visitor. - the metallic servant warned. - A man wants to see you.

- What's that? At this hour? - she turned to it with irritation. - Tell him I can't see him!

- Yes, ma'am. - and it went back to the entrance while the woman remained there, her body half out and half in Esben's room. She didn't wait any longer: she entered the room with a determination that would normally have frightened him.

She expected to find him curled up on the edge of his own bed, writing down something interesting he had done that day, so she looked around.

But he couldn't find it. She looked, looked, looked, walked around the room and couldn't find him. The only movement and life in the whole room came from the turbulent curtain, which was unable to quieten down because of the night wind. The wind that came from the wide-open window.

Naia leapt over the window.

From a distance, she saw only a figure, the figure of her own brother sneaking through the night.

Her chest filled with dread.

Esben was running away.

X

[cirilee]

you know, imagine you're a robot and your parts get repurposed and recycled and you've been so many things and its a whole samsara thing and you know what, TODAY WE WONT PACKAGE KIBBLES ON THE CONVEYOR BELT, TODAY THE REVOLUTION STARTS, TODAY WE BURN IT DOWN but also please make it stop.

You can continue reading on webtoon or tapas :D

[hotdogmexicano]

𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀

ig: netto_comdoistes

[whereserpentswalk]

Every starship always has a few ice people on board. It's just standard safety protocol. The minimum number is three, one ice person for defense, one ice person for repairs, and one ice person for medical.

Ice people are people who are put into suspended animation for the duration of a trip, only to be taken out in emergencies. They're useful because a ship won't have to deal with another passenger just for something that won't useally happen. It also makes it so that the ice person is the least likely to be harmed in emergencies. They used to use robots for these sorts of things but now that the robots have unionized biological life is cheaper for that kind of labor.

It's a pretty nice job. Nine times out of ten it's falling asleep and waking up a few months later. Doing it once or twice can pay off your college debts pretty quickly. Compared to the other jobs you'll get with that kind of skillset it's a pretty good deal. Most medical students are encouraged to take it as their first job to pay off their student loans.

Of course, there is a weirdness to it, not existing for such a long time. Even a few months will make the way things change weird. You'll come back to your home planet and things will be diffrent. A freind will have gotten married. A child that you're used to being a baby will be a toddler. Someone will have moved away. It's not all bad, hype for movies or video games, arguments that need time to calm down, skipping out on a bad time in politics. But still, it always makes you a bit separate from everything else.

Of course, there is always the fear suspended animation won't work as intended, and your mind will be trapped dreaming, or worse, conscious, during the entire affair. Perhaps things will that lurk in hyperspace will begin to speak to you. Or worse you'll just be alone, with nothing but your thoughts, and no way to cry out.

But that's not the worst of it, at least not for most people. For most people it's the much more mundane reality of needing to be an ice person for more than just one or two trips. You'll fall asleep and wake up months later, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred times. And you'll find yourself only seeing the world through snapshots, really only having your other ice people to relate to. You'll be from a diffrent time as everyone the same age as you. It's better pay then any alternative, but there is a greater cost. Soon enough you'll be walking through your homeworld and it'll be alien to you, decades in the future from what you were raised to be in, you'll be wearing a diffrent eras clothing, speaking in a dead dialect, like a ghost from the past.

There was a young engineer who recently returned from being an ice person. Poor thing, she was sent out on an ambassador ship to an alien system thinking it would be about six months, but it turned out she was gone for decades as a war between that ship's nation and the alien homeworld broke out. When she came back all three of her spouses had died of old age, and her son who was an infant when she left was older than her when she returned, and her grandchildren she had never met were her peers.

[sparksinthenight]

If the economy NEEDS workers working in degrading, dehumanizing, dangerous jobs where they have very little power, then you need to get a different economy. Any world that relies upon the exploitation and abuse of the workers needs to be burned to the ground and rebuilt. We can make a society where no one has to work a job that’s physically, mentally, spiritually, socially, emotionally, or environmentally unhealthy or unsafe for them. We need to create that society.

[andrhomeda]

GROWING PAINS / full mini comic

you can support my work and have access to future comic projects by becoming a member of my "Art & Sketches" tier on Ko-fi

[akimartistdude]

inspection.

just a regular check-up.

[thebrokenpaintbox]

My scary artwork. I wonder about surveillance a lot and this is a by-product of it.

[noble-atomics-railway]

21. End of the Line - Tornadoyoungiron's Traintober list

Coloured by @axiondelta

<Prev | Next >

Based on the Episode "Saving Edward"

"You wern't just planning on hiding out on this siding and giving up, were you?," asked Gordon, "I expected better of you. You can't give up yet."

Edward sighed, " You're too young to understand yet, Gordon. Perhaps I've outlived my usefulness. What does it matter if I give up on myself before they decide that I'm not worth keeping around anymore?"

"You can't give up on yourself," Gordon spluttered indignantly, "I won't let you."

"It's not for you to decide," replied Edward downcast, " It's up to the Fat Controller afterall."

"Well, see here, Edward, come back to Tidmouth with me, and we'll talk some sense into the old man. Nobody is given up upon on my watch."

[danielhowell]

new video! it’s time for some relationship advice - Are they gay? Or just “ROOMMATES”?

[aoloieruarchive]

Who are You?, 2023

[yellodisney]

[cirilee]

best friends :') bestest buddies for sure :'))

this time the first page is colored by @mareeoth - the rest done by me hehe^^

READ THE FULL COMIC ON WEBTOON OR TAPAS

[global-twilight]

Cyberpunk Moments

[whereserpentswalk]

You were born to be a sacrifice. When you first exited your mothers womb the oracles decided that would be your fate. They tattooed your hands and forehead so everyone would know.

When you turn twenty, they'll take you to the church, and they'll set you on fire. And then when your body is burned they'll give your ashes for the angels, and the angels and saints will be proud, and bless your community and family with great riches. Or at least that's what they say.

When you were young it didn't seem to mean anything that you were born to die young. Nobody cared, they just saw you as another kid. But it was always there. Adults would ask other kids what they wanted to be when they grew up, but they'd ask you what you would do once you were a ruler in the court of heaven. They'd tell other kids about marriage and sex and having children, but for you that would just be for other people, you'd die a virgin.

And at a certain age, you were removed from school. Because they said you wouldn't need it. That you shouldn't be wasting your time on such things. And you didn't understand, but you understood that all your freinds were upset that they wouldn't see you anymore. Not as much at least. And people talked about you so much differently from then on. You weren't complimented as strong, or as smart, or as ambitious, you were pretty, and pure, and brave, and dutiful. And everyone talked about how proud they were of you, how wonderful it was that you were going to die for them.

They were so nice to you. They gave you so many gifts and jewelry. You got to spend all day inside playing video games, and you got the best toys and got to go to movies and plays when you wanted to. Soldiers in power armor would bow when they saw you, and robots and cyborgs would turn off their lights. And you sat at a special place in church, and the clothing you wore was diffrent then everyone else's. And people talked about how wonderful you were, and how pretty you were, and how much they loved having you when they knew you wouldn't be on this world for long. And they were so proud of you when they showed you the platinum clothing you would wear on the day of your sacrifice. And you didn't understand why but all of the compliments sounded sad.

As you grew older things changed. The other children went through puberty, but you didn't, they gave you surgery to prevent it, ans told you how pure you were for not producing blood or seed. And you were old enough to understand that you would die, that you would burn, and it would hurt, and that nobody really knew for sure what happened after peopled died. And you saw a sacrifice, and saw the pain they were in, and there weren't any angels, there were only priests watching and chanting, and the smell of burning skin.

Your parents and family started to care much more how you behave. To make sure you're polite. To make sure you're a good sacrifice, who the angels will like. And meanwhile while all your other freinds are going to college, and talking about becoming artists, or starship pilots, or scientists, you know you'll only ever have one ending. But still, everyone loves you, and you don't have responsibilities, but still sometimes you think about how much diffrent life would be if you were born differently.

You've started meeting people who've left the faith, or people who didn't grow up in it, people who believe in diffrent religions or in no religion at all. And your heaven seems less and less certain every day. According to imperial law you're allowed to be sacrificed, but if you choose not to they can't force you. But if you choose not to you can never be a part of your faith again, and your family will be disappointed in you forever. All your family and community, everyone who you ever knew, will consider you a failure, a coward doomed to hell for not going through with what the cosmos planned for you. And all that pride and joy they felt about your fate would be replaced with anger that you never became what they were so happy and proud about you being. You don't think you believe in heaven anymore, but you still might choose to die, if it means they're proud... it's what you're raised to do, you don't know who you'll be if you choose to leave.

Better choose fast darling, it's only a few months away now. You don't want them to be upset.

[sparksinthenight]

Y’all know that quote “when men are oppressed it’s tragedy, when women are oppressed it’s tradition,” right? That’s a really good quote that is still relevant to the world in so many ways. But also, it made me realize something else.

When the rich are harmed it’s tragedy, when the poor are harmed it’s freedom.