INSTAJUICE - YOUR DRINK OF SUSTENANCE (AND CHOICE)
InstaJuice is the stuff of miracles, the stuff you dream about when you're asleep, the stuff which arouses your deepest, darkest fantasies. InstaJuice is the latest product from KnossoCorp, creator of Slop-O-Matic, Growiupnop, and the hit TV series HORRIBLE SLIME MONSTERS. KnossoCorp CEO, Franz Chattopadhyaya says about InstaJuice, "it's incredible! I just tried some, and I can confidently say this will be our refiniest creation yet! I practically orgasmed just looking at the thing! InstaJuice tastes like all fruit juices, yet without the assistance of any. Just close your eyes and get lost in the big swirly swirly of flavor. You'll love it, I promise. For every 100 InstaJuice you drink, you'll receive Knosso points back!"
* * *
The mycelium center is packed as usual. When growing mushrooms, one must be entirely silent. Even verbal communication can interfere with their growth. The mushrooms we grow are called Armillaria, a parasitic type of mushroom. They rapidly grow, but can easily make you sick unless cooked. So this is how Adam spent his days at the end of humanity's timeline. Working with mushrooms. Someone has to do it I suppose.
Adam is just a layman in the process, picking mushrooms and throwing them onto the heap of fungus which has become a primary source of food for all of humanity's remaining population. The Corite cities even rely on fungus for more than food. They take advantage of the mass amounts of mycelia systems which run through the ground, and send electrical currents through them. This is how cities communicate with each other, this is how electricity works, this is how PleasureWaves are powered.
Adam walked in through the muggy, metallic hallways. Before entering the workyard, he put on the standard equipment: a pair of headphones to avoid hearing the frequencies played in order to assist with the growth of the mushrooms, and a mechanism that covers the jaw, holding it shut, so your vocal frequencies would not interfere with the growth. As the door glides open, Adam steps into the massive workyard, full of mushrooms sprouting from all directions, reflecting morose light from the lamps scattered throughout. It was a dark and luminous place.
Adam saw his friend, Jereon. They don't speak to each other in person. Adam thought nothing of it.
* * *
Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, pick. Grow, Pick. Grow, pick. Pleasure.
* * *
Down there it gets warm and muggy. There is no real escape from this. You simply flux between states of being aware of this mugginess, and states of unawareness. The ultimate unawareness is sleep. And so Adam walked down to the break room. Due to fantastical demands by the Neo-Unions, every workplace must, in collaboration with Sleep-Always, provide beds in the break room. One bed for each and every employee. With change. These warehouse-sized break rooms were muggier than anywhere. But there you had the comfort of an electric blanket. You can forget about the mugginess. Adam drifts off, staring at the tag on the pillow which reads:
"SLEEP-ALWAYS LOVES YOU"
And so Adam took his break.
* * *
The metal door looks still... dead, even; before sliding open and revealing a mass of vibrant life. Silent, solemn workers leaving the factory. The most social interaction Corites get all day. They leave, all returning to their homes, all booting up their PleasureWaves.
PleasureWaves are a cultural touchstone for Corites. Most people assume they must have been some sort of luxury at one point, for the surface-dwellers. But now, just about every Corite has one. They hold on to them so dearly, so desperately, one must never come between a Corite and his PleasureWaves.
A PleasureWaves station is an orb-shaped piece of technology. They seat one person, and you never share. It is secondary only to your spouse. The orb is about the height of an average woman. You sit inside and hook it up to your brain. The machine pumps artificial serotonin into your lumpy meat-thinker while the screen (which consumes your entire field of vision) shows you images spurred on by your subconscious. The machine can read your exact visual desires, and will immediately show you what you want to see. Think of sex, and you will begin to instantly watch pornography. Think of death, and you'll be shown a snuff film. Think of animals, and you'll be shown extinct species of cute domesticated pets. With PleasureWaves mankind finally reached a new frontier. They removed the barriers between desire and satisfaction. In a PleasureWaves machine, they are one and the same. Some extensions even help you masturbate.
When PleasureWaves came down to the Core of the Earth, Corites immediately tried to get their hands on as many as possible. There was some resistance at first, from fundamental Yoctists, but these concerns were dispelled when PleasureWaves would eventually be recognized as a sacrament within Corite Yoctism. Now PleasureWaves are inseparably linked from the cultural ideology, that element of society which resembles a stubborn toddler. In the Core, there are only two classes: people who own PleasureWaves, and people who don't. The people who don't either beg for money to buy more, or are part of a small anti-pleasure monastic brother-and-sisterhood.
Adam Ishii went home and pleasured his mind with his machine, just like every normal Corite did. The hours after work and before sleep are known to everyone as the time reserved for PleasureWaves.
After he was done that night, Adam was feeling especially tired. He slumped over onto his bed and immediately fell asleep.
But:
Adam awoke with a loud, electronic buzz. Door.
He got up as quickly as he could. He tried to put on clothes before realizing he was still wearing some from last night.
At the door was a delivery man. "It happened around six A.M." was all he said.
The delivery man handed Adam Ishii a small package and a letter, before abruptly leaving. Adam sat down, wondering who could have sent a gift?
He unboxed it, only to find a mason jar of ashes. He immediately sat down onto the floor. He couldn't hold the weight of the ashes.
He dropped them.
He began breathing rapidly.
He opened the letter. Letters were seldom used anymore, only for novelty's sake. His father was always obsessed with antiques.
The letter contained his father's will.
The will only gave one thing to Adam.
An inheritance of Plankite.
YOU ARE READING
The City of Mur
Ciencia FicciónAdam Ishii lives in the center of the Earth. It isn't much, but he makes do. Adam is thrust into the center of the accelerating problems of late-human-civilization when his father dies, leaving Adam an inheritance of pure energy with a connection to...
