[Int-Check] Read Only Memories

Your Earliest Memory...

You remember waking up in a chair in a brightly-lit room. This is your earliest memory. You know your name and nothing else. As far as you’re concerned, you have no past. The men behind the glass window tells you that you have committed a heinous crime against the state. However, in its infinite love and wisdom and mercy, the Ministry has granted you another chance at life—another chance to transform yourself into a model citizen worthy of the Ministry’s love. But such an opportunity comes with a caveat. After all, despite its infinite love and wisdom and mercy, the Ministry does not allow crimes against it to go unpunished. You touch the nape of your neck and feel a small plastic chip. The men behind the glass tells you that is your doom counter.

That’s DOOM as in Dimorphic Organic Oxyacid Metric counter. Aptly name because it counts down the days and minutes and seconds to your death. Once your clock runs out, the chip will administer a deadly agent into your bloodstream, rapidly altering acidity levels and causing you to bleed out of every orifice in a matter of seconds. A quick death but an extremely excruciating one. Relinquish any thoughts of removing the chip as its mechanisms has been surgically infused to your upper spine and brain stem. Removal of the DOOM counter will only result in death. And tampering with the counter in any way will automatically activate its kill mechanism. About an inch below your left or right wrist is another chip. Pressing it activates a hologram projection of the counter’s clock. You see that you have roughly three days left.

But fear not, for the Ministry is infinite in its love and wisdom and mercy. As long as you strive to be a model citizen, your life will not end so abruptly. Time can always be earned. The men behind the glass gives you a registration number along with a set of clothes, identification card, and 500 credits, and sends you on a government bus along with others in your same position to a public housing unit where you will stay until you can afford your own residency. You are told to get Ministry-approved work in the city where, at the end of each work day, you will be allotted more time on your DOOM counter and live to see another day.

Work hard citizen, and welcome to New Babel.

"In New Babel, you too are loved..."

It’s been years since the day you awoke in that bright room and you’ve come to learn many things about New Babel. You’ve learned of the towering wall that envelopes the city in an ironclad embrace, preventing citizens from ever knowing what is beyond the confines of this gilded cage. You’ve learned that above you overhangs a permanent ashen sky. The “sun” that you’ve read about in books is nothing more than a nebulous concept to you. You’ve learned that every single person in New Babel possesses a DOOM counter and that there is no one under the age of 18 living within the walls. Every man and woman in New Babel is sterile so the concept of children is also foreign to you.

You’ve learned that the first 12 hours of the day, starting at 8 AM, is Working Hour where New Babel citizens work to earn credits and more time to add to their counter. The latter 12 hours, beginning at 8 PM, is Happy Hour where the city comes alive with lights and sound; where you can partake in non-work-related activities or go home to enjoy a meal and a good night’s rest. You’ve learned that crime runs rampant in New Babel, anything from guns to drugs to sex trafficking to illegal cybernetics, and that people will murder you in order to hack your DOOM counter to transfer your remaining time to theirs.

You’ve learned of the Agency—the Ministry’s police force that will hunt you down for any crimes they’ve deem you committed; the punishment of which is more often than not death by counter. The Agency encourages the citizens of New Babel to report any and all suspected crime and so you’ve learned to not trust anyone unnecessarily. Aliases are commonplace; you would only tell someone you truly trust your real name. Where the Agency’s eyes do not reach, androids known as Sentries maintain order in their stead.

You’ve learned that for all of its infinite love and wisdom and mercy, the Ministry is an invisible force whose governance is only echoed through the mouthpieces of the Agency. One has to wonder if the Ministry is even real? It has to be, you think. After all, even those of the Agency are kept placated by DOOM counters. Most important of all, you’ve learned to survive in New Babel—you’ve learn to keep the clock ticking, but to what end, you at times wonder. Is this truly a life worth living? Then you see holographic screens pop up all around you from various machines. A symbol appears on the screens and with it brings a voice message:

"Citizens of New Babel, for all of the life you’ve known, you’ve been residing in a prison. I’d hardly call it living. As much as the Agency tries to suppress the thought from your mind through threat of death, you know this to be true. We can no longer abide such tyranny. This is a message of hope and of retribution. We are Prometheus. We carry with us a flame to ignite a revolution. We are the Ministry’s downfall. And we will deliver you from this hell and to paradise where you will truly be free. Hold strong; we have come."

"Hyperion Cybernetics. Evolution Perfected."

What kind of character will you be in the city of New Babel? Perhaps you're really no one in particular. You've got a Ministry-approved job, a few close friends, maybe even a significant other. You live your life abiding to the Ministry's will. Maybe you're loyal to the Ministry; after all, you were a criminal of the state but, in its infinite love and wisdom and mercy, the Ministry has given you a chance to right your wrongs. You are a model citizen, because the alternative would mean...

Or perhaps you see the distinct line between surviving and living, for living is only true if you're thriving. And who can thrive in New Babel but those who are willing to bend the rules a little. Guns and drugs run rampant. Sex is always in fashion. The demand for illegal cybernetics is at an all time high. You're just looking out for number one and, to do so effectively, you'll need more credits and resources and, most important of all, time.

If the idea of being a criminal disgusts you perhaps you may try your luck and sign up with the Agency—the Ministry's police force in New Babel. You are here to keep order. You won't allow this city to plunge any deeper into mayhem and depravity. Whether a desk jockey or a field agent, you have something to contribute to the unyielding hand of the law.

Sponsored Message: Whoever you are, citizen of New Babel, Hyperion Cybernetics is here to give you a leg up on the competition. Here at Hyperion, we believe that our state-of-the-art cybernetic enhancements are naturally the next step in human evolution. Why settle for back-alley "mechanics" who aren't licensed and certified by our Ministry-approved training institution? The risks are high and who knows what laws you may potentially break in the process of acquiring sub-par goods? Imagine if they somehow cause your DOOM counter to malfunction, leading to your premature death. That's why Hyperion Cybernetics should be your one and only choice. Become who you are meant to be. Hyperion Cybernetics. Evolution Perfected.

You are a blank canvas in the city of New Babel. So now the question is: what will that canvas become?
[Int-Check] Read Only Memories

Blu ᴏɴʟʏ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀꜱ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ.

Ellion The Knowing

Scarescrow Sociopath

lunarius the lunatic

Blu ᴏɴʟʏ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀꜱ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ.

nohbdies
