Another Day Another Dollar

Joe awoke to the sound of artificial birds. Their decorative figures awkwardly swayed in the hazy winds and yellowed sky outside his window. He wondered for a moment how closely they resembled the avian animals that existed before. Even while looking out at the polluted atmosphere, he felt particularly blessed this morning. One could only feel privileged to live another day in the Remaining States of America.

The great wars from decades past culminated in an environment of pure American geopolitical dominance. As the last functioning bureaucracy, the RSA reigned over whatever was left of the civilized world. The residual authorities of government agencies, banking institutions and pivotal corporations were in a unique position to fill the vacuum of power. Noone really understood how the new regime worked, but it didn’t matter. The surviving population desperately wanted security, and they got exactly that in exchange for their sovereignty.

The merger of corporate wealth and government powers was unnoticeable at first, but now they were totally indistinguishable. The people could no longer comprehend which services were derived from social programs, they simply paid for everything with periodic taxes and bills.

Joe rarely questioned the system because it worked particularly well for him. The RSA was considered the paradigm of wealth in the post-modern society, and Joe lived at the tip top of the social hierarchy.

He sauntered around his lavish one room apartment and relished in his success. You could tell it was a luxury home, because it said so on the sign outside and he paid extra for it. Joe deserved his privileged life, because he had a prestigious job at a very important corporate government organization. However, after all his daily expenses, Joe kept only one single dollar at the end of every day.

It did not particularly matter how much money he made because the currency of the RSA had an expiration date. Everyone was required to spend every dollar they make before the end of the week, or the wages earned in that pay cycle would become worthless. This was the duty of every Remaining American to stimulate the economy and ensure the value of their currency was strong. The RSA dollar was the only stable currency in world because it was constantly reissued at a new value to match the rate of inflation.

Joe thought it was a perfect system, free from the depressions and hyperinflation that plagued the old-world economy. He could never save his excess earnings, but he felt empowered by his commitment to the monetary hegemony of the RSA. Furthermore, his salary appropriately paid for all the best perks and luxuries that high society had to offer. After the socialization of housing, education, healthcare and food, the basic necessities of life were already guaranteed. Not without any cost of course. At the highest income bracket, Joe apportioned nearly half of his income to various taxes. This progressive taxation assured a comfortable life for all Remaining Americans and Joe was pleased that he could help those less fortunate than himself.

Joe benefitted from all the corporate governmental benefits. He gave thanks to the RSA as he prepared his breakfast of corporate government developed artificial dairy and coffee, which tasted great. The subsidized education programs allowed him to pursue a respectable degree in Corporate Government Technology Management. He will need to pay-off the student loans for a short 55-year period, but his current occupation was surely worth it. The governmental corporation that financed his home provided a very fair 80-year mortgage; courtesy of the RSA Guaranteed Housing Program. It was a steep payment for the additional insurance, but Joe was proud that he could own his own home.

The prospect of renting a home was terrifying to Joe. Imagine having to cough up large sums of money to some landlord who can easily take your home after a failure to pay. Joe felt sufficiently protected by his home equity. Unfortunately, most of it was acquiesced by the lender when solar winds cracked his single window, and the market value of his home cratered. His insurance fixed the crack, but his premiums skyrocketed. Nevertheless, Joe felt enamored with financial security and happily paid for extra insurance as a nice safety net.

Feeling satisfied with his morning ration, Joe promptly began is daily workout. Corporate government cheese is extremely inflammatory and must be sweated out or it goes straight to your thighs. The RSA had an epidemic of obesity and illness, Joe attributed the crisis to the lack of exercise. Pleased with his intense calorie deficit, Joe arranged his transportation to the governmental corporate office.

Typically, Joe would work from his home computer, as did most of the white-collar professionals. The eternal red dust that polluted the air and caked every surface, made it dangerous to work outside. The ancestors of the old world degraded their soil with chemicals to sustain their primitive agricultural pursuits. That’s why all sustenance is now artificially lab made by the gracious governmental corporations of the RSA. Joe still felt spoiled that he could work from home since the lifespan of red-collared workers were quite limited with all the respiratory disease.

Joe dressed in his finest suit, packed his various laptops, and awaited the vehicle he called to his home. Almost all vehicles were self-driven automobiles owned by the governmental corporation. Joe thought it was silly to own a car. The cost was staggering for registration, insurance, fuel and repairs. It was pointless when you could simply subscribe to an unlimited rider plan and travel for free… after the daily fee. The driverless vehicle pulled up to the front door, and Joe quickly hopped inside to avoid the dust sprinkling on his favorite tie.

Joe was forced to brave the excursion to the office, because today he was up for promotion. On the ride, Joe thought of all the fun he could have with that extra income. He could subscribe to the SportsBall™ league and watch all the games. He could see a movie; he heard from a friend that Titanic 4 was playing at the governmental corporate theatre. He may even splurge and take a trip to one of the National Parks to see a real tree. Because money had a set shelf life, Joe was not inclined to save his additional earnings. He would spend his entire salary and stimulate the economy as a dutiful Remaining American.

Between dreams of material things and experiences, Joe gazed out the window at his overpopulated neighborhood. There were no borders in the RSA, so people from all over the world immigrated to relish in the corporate government benefits and contribute to the superb economy. For everyone, there was a box to live in, corporate cheese to consume, and a fulling job to labor in. The car came to a sudden stop in front of Joe’s office, he thanked the empty driver’s seat for the safe trip, and left a healthy tip in the rideshare app.

Joe stared up at the impressive office building shooting through the brownish clouds of the radioactive atmosphere. He could never see the roof beyond the clouds, so he wondered what it was like to look down upon the city from the top floor which was reserved for the governmental corporate executives. His pondering was abruptly interrupted by a feeble hand grabbing his shoulder. Joe turned to confront the rugged face of a local vagrant. This man was determined to be markedly nuts by any self-respecting professional like Joe. The homeless degenerate left a red handprint on the shoulder of Joe’s suit before retracting his dirtied paws to speak.

“Lend me your ear good sir, for I have truths to be spoken.” Said the nasty looking bum in a coarse voice between coughs and painful sounding breaths.

Joe was taught to respect the less fortunate, despite their parasitic burden on Remaining American society. His college professors imparted that consumers were just as important to the economy as producers like himself. Joe reluctantly nodded at the bum to reveal his beliefs.

The man happily began his contrived lesson. “I would guess good sir, that you know very little about the society you live in. I would even go so far to assume that you are hopelessly misinformed. For example, sir, why is it that we homegrown Remaining Americans are perpetually pestered with waves of immigrants?”

Joe immediately recited the teachings of his formal education. “Because the RSA is the greatest country on Earth, and everyone wants to live here for our outstanding economy and culinary delights such as governmental cheese and coffee.” Joe sparkled with pride in his answer.

“Wrong!” bellowed the bum after coughing red colored phlegm in Joe’s face. “It’s the money! The RSA dollars are the reserve currency for the world. Every other country has inflated money that is constantly devalued compared to dollars as we terminate and reinstitute cash on a weekly basis. We are simply exporting our inflation around the world as we print new money and force other countries to exchange their worthless currency for ours under the threat of war. This skews the fairness of global trade and incentivizes migration of people to work in America and send currency back to their home country. The more foreign countries are flooded with dollars with changing value, the more their currency must be inflated and they become indebted to American corporate governments…” The passionate bum was interrupted by a fit a coughing, wheezing and snorting that brought him to knee.

Joe had no retort for that enthusiastic spiel, so he confidently responded. “So how is that a problem? That’s more people working in our economy, inflation does not affect us, and we are blessed with a diverse constituent.”

The bum quickly stood up and wiped his face to answer. “The problem is that all these immigrants take more of our corporate government benefits without paying taxes. The corporate governments get cheap labor, but they constantly raise the taxes, hike prices of insurance and lower wages to…”

He stopped to cough again, but Joe was tired of this incoherent rant, so he exclaimed “I have to go to work sir, my job is to be liaison between our immigrant workers and the data entry of our artificial intelligence software. It’s a very lucrative occupation and would not exist without the immigrant workers, so even if what you’re saying is true, I still prefer it.” Joe began walking away from the conversation and towards the main entrance.

The bum shouted after him. “I used to be professional like yourself! I benefited from the same cheap labor until I foolishly mispronounced an immigrant employee’s exotic name and was promptly fired! Beware good sire! The same could happen to you! You know nothing of this world! You don’t even know about Florida!”

“Florida? The coastal states all sank beneath the ocean.” Joe exclaimed as he stopped and turned back to the shouting vagrant who began to lecture again.

“You know nothing Sir, just like I knew nothing as a professional. You probably think you’re at the top of the food chain with your silly email job. You think you’re rich because you have a luxury box in the sky that costs more than a box on the ground. You consider yourself above the red-collars because you have a higher salary, but I’d bet you take home just a dollar a day after taxes and expenses, just like me. The real holders of wealth live on the coast and laugh at us dusty common…” The vagrant was stopped in his tracks by another coughing fit.

Joe was becoming frustrated with this man. Joe was very privileged as a reward for loyal contribution to the economy. This man was a liar. There were no habitable coasts anymore. No more oligarchs. No wealth gaps or inequality. Those were all left behind in the old world. He was sure of it. Joe had to put this bum in his place.

“You are clearly an uneducated man.” Said Joe. “You have no love for immigrants, and no appreciation for our congenial corporate government. You don’t even have a job!”

The vagrant looked insulted as he responded. “I have a job! I am an economist!”

Joe scowled at the man with utter discontent. “That’s a fake job, goodbye sir.”

Joe escaped through the doors and walked to the security desk to inform them of the nut job outside. Turns out the security team was working from home today, so he reminded himself to draft an email. Joe sat down at an open desk to wait for his promotion meeting with the boss. His workday began with the typical firestorm of emails regarding incorrect data entry. The immigrant workers had mistakenly forgotten to pay the taxes on the corporate government health insurance plans. Joe had to send a flurry of emails to the immigrant workers who would likely not open the memos until their workday began that evening in a different time zone. They were also working from home. After updating various progress reports in a multitude of Microsoft platforms, Joe looked up from his laptops and saw a woman walking towards him.

It was Jane, who was Joe’s counterpart in the department of Immigrant Worker Management and Microsoft Data Entry. She began the interaction by complaining about the missing tax expense for the corporate government health insurance. Joe liked Jane, but workplace relationships were forbidden, and they were up for the same promotion. She probably already spoke to the boss this morning. Joe explained to Jane that he already fixed the issue and asked her how she was doing, hoping she might spill insights on the promotion.

She frowned for a brief moment and spoke. “I’m actually not doing very great Joe, I had a horrible date last night, the man tried to attack me, and I had to run away.” Joe acted stunned but he was not surprised. Dating in the RSA was primarily random and often led to poor dates. Relationships were formed on an app that haphazardly set up dates between users, you really never knew who you were going to get. It’s difficult to find a decent mate, but it’s easy to sift through the suiters when provided with so many options.

Jane looked defeated as she went on. “It’s so hard to find a good man. I am desperate for a child but the cost to take care of them is impossible on one income with all the insurance, childcare, schooling and additional rations of government cheese. I am really hoping for this promotion.” Joe almost felt bad for her, but he wanted to see a real tree and cared little for her hopes of being a mother. He pretended to be sincere and gave her a potential solution. “Why don’t you get one of those immigrant children instead of paying all that money for a government sponsored In Vitro Fertilization Program?” Jane blinked away tears and said “But I don’t speak Spanish Joe! Imagine how awkward that would be!”

Joe was saved from the conversation by an email notification on his computer. It was time for his promotion interview. He looked hesitantly towards Jane who knew what that meant. She sheepishly said good luck and wiped the red handprint from his shoulder. He strutted to the elevator. He was going to the top floor above the dirty clouds where he had never been before. The sky amazed him as the open windowed elevator shot through a layer of yellow haze and into a stratosphere of incredible blue eternity. He said to himself that this was the proper way to live as his body shook with anticipation.

The elevator opened to an intimidating figure in the shape of his boss. He had never seen him in person before, no one had. He smiled and shook Joes hand.

“How are you doing sir?” Joe nervously uttered with a crack in his voice.

“I am quite alright Joe, I just hate coming into the office here in Central RSA, the dust is just gross!”

Joe was very confused. Why did his boss say “Central” RSA? Were there other regions? Were there other places to live? He must have worn his perplexity right on his face because his boss immediately apologized.

“Forgive me Joe, I am not used to speaking with the commoners. You will come to understand all the intricacies of upper-class life with your new position.”

“I got the promotion?!” cried Joe.

“Yessir, you did!” explained his boss. “You have done such an excellent job with those immigrants, you have never once mispronounced their exotic names or become frustrated with their incompetency.” Joe raised in eyebrows in astonishment.

“Yes, Joe we run a tight ship here, the AI tracks virtually everything.” Joe stood silently and his boss continued. “We know your every interaction and we were quite pleased with your proficiency in all the various Microsoft products.

The AI recommended we give the promotion to your peer, Jane, but she intended to acquire a child, and it is simply too expensive for our governmental corporation to pay for all that extra insurance, I hope you understand.”

Joe felt a new sense of shame, but before he could say anything his boss pushed him towards an arriving helicopter that would have drowned out his words. Joe sat speechless and dumbfounded as his boss explained his new position as they flew through above the dilapidated city below.

“You see you are very lucky Joe; you are actually being promoted two positions higher than your current spot. The man who was supposed to be your superior tragically suffocated under the weight of his randomized date last night. Poor bastard. Anyway, this position is at the executive level which means you can move to the coast and enjoy all the upper-class benefits.”

Joe didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know there were different corporate benefits, or socioeconomic classes or even different places to live. He had to ask.

“But sir, I thought all the coasts were gone after the climate catastrophes of the old world?”

His boss bellowed a big hearty laugh and explained. “You're about to be in for a big shock son, we’re going to Florida.” He continued to laugh at Joe’s flummoxed expression. Joe was taught that Florida was underwater, he thought the entire coastal United States was destroyed in rising sea water. The only world he ever knew was the dust covered RSA. He felt lied to.

The helicopter began to slow and hovered next to an immense concrete wall. This was the end of the known Remaining States of America. His teachers taught him that the Great RSA Levee was built to keep out the rising sea levels. The helicopter received its proper clearance, and the walls opened.

What Joe saw on the other side of the levee would change his life forever. Green grass and trees covered the landscape. Sprinklers irrigating crops of real food going for miles. Joe could not believe his own eyes spewing falsehoods and blasphemy. Birds flew alongside the helicopter, REAL birds! It was all a lie. The money, the history, even the corporate government cheese. It was just a fake story to cover up the segregation of wealth.

It was all out in open now. Joe could not deny what was right in front of him. The only thing he could now was choose. Live in the highest echelons of a society built on lies and slavery; or fight to end that corruption till his last breath.

If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice
I will choose a path that's clear, I will choose Freewill

Freewill, Song by Rush