Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2230759-The-Farmed
by JT101
Rated: E · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2230759
A few chapters of creative writing. I have no plot yet. Just trying to practice writing...

Chapter 1.

It's quite amazing how much we do without realising we do it.
No real need to have to think about walking unless of course you are balancing on top of a log that has just been cut down in a forest.

There is of course no real need to think about, or consciously think about being hungry, unless of course you have pre-set the oven to cook exactly at 7pm when you know you will be.

I suppose for some thinking becomes a way of life and for some they move away from their thoughts.
Too scared of irrational fears that hound them over and over, like dark clouds seeping in through their eyelids.
They shy away and let the matter inside their head take over.
These people are the masses, or the farmed.

For others they have mastered the matter inside their head to work in their favour.

These are the influencers, and they control the farmed.

Chapter 2
No pun intended.

"Wake up! Wake up peter!"
"For Christ's sake!"

Peter was lying unconscious on the school hall floor, where his house prefect was trying to wake him.
Peter would often fall and hit his head, meaning he had to wear a padded helmet.
This of course meant that he was a target at boarding school for bullies. Often many trying to box his head of spar with him.

"For Christ's sake peter, get up!"

Peter knew that at some point his school days would be over, but for now he had to concentrate on staying awake.

Over the past few years he had managed to train his mind to not sleep like it wanted to, although attacks were still frequent.
His mind therapy that he went to was a new age mind class mixed with old school electrolysis.
Kick starting everything with a bang and rethinking ways of staying awake in reality seemed to be working.

Sometimes though he was unaware if he was awake, asleep or unconscious.
All he did know was the constant repetition was starting to fuse his mind in different ways. He had noticed things...

Peter had a special watch that recorded when he was horizontal, thereby telling him when he was truly awake.
So far today it was 11am and his sleep time was 15 mins on the school hall floor.
His morning alarm was always 8am so in fairness he had got away this time.
The record was 2 days, although a few years ago now.

Peters worst fear was the battery running out on his watch or the Watch being incorporated into his dream. He like telling people that this was his worst nightmare, as a geeky joke for those who enjoyed the pun.

Chapter 3

Sitting waiting in the middle of a busy coffee shop, Peter resisted the temptation to look at his phone.
Instead he sat there facing the direction of the front door...waiting for his friend.
Fully aware that he looked somewhat lonesome and unoccupied he began to feel the pressure of those around him.
The phone quickly came out and suddenly society had accepted him as normal.
He felt he was no longer a target of interest for those who like to look around. He thought of those people as watchers...always aware of their surroundings. Listening or hearing
...they knew exactly what was happening around them, even if they were appeared to be reading the paper intently.

Peter didn't mind being early for appointments. In fact, it gave him time to role play the interaction that was about to happen. He would often think about subjects that would be raised and which ones to avoid. He liked imagining the future much more
than remembering the past.

The past was difficult to piece together as he found it hard to distinguish between his dreams and reality.

In no way could peter predict the future though, he just made sure the future was more predictable.

Chapter 4
Rush hour

London had changed quite a bit since peter had last been there.

Four new tube lines were in operation, and several stations had popped up in and around the city. Like seeds in the soil, they had broken out from under the ground, hustling for space amongst the other giant buildings.

The new trains were very functional. Like a large steel tubes being forced through a tunnel. None had seats anymore.
The farmed were literally like cattle in a pen about to be sold at the market.
Influencers would often boast how many farmed they had control over.

Since the government had brought in zonal working, people were no longer travelling from one end of the line to the other.
The farmed were quite happy to obey this new scheme as mortgages were subsidised if you worked within a 10 mile radius of home.

You were also now no longer allowed to bring large bags or items onto the tube. Instead you would have to opt for a drone pick up to deliver it to your destination.
These drones that littered the sky, formed large air motorways above major city roads.
Due to restrictions, Nobody was allowed to own a drone, you had to pay a one off fee or yearly subscription which some thought was ridiculous as they were always slow and not very accurate at safely depositing your items.

Due to the serious overcrowding and unreliable drone service, many worked at home.
Peter worked for a company that helped set people up for work at home, essentially allowing home users to communicate with Work servers.
There was a real boom for this type of work and he found it pretty satisfying.

The most exciting part of his job was seeing how others lived.
He had seen it all, from luxury apartments to squalid flats.

The next property he was off to was in Fulham about 45 minutes away from where he was now.

Chapter 5
Many hands may be found on it (4)

Sometimes peter felt like he had no idea what he was doing. He felt that he was drifting in amongst the whirlpool of society.
As each day came about with the rise of the new sun he imagined all the people rising and those going to bed in darkness.

Peter didn't really think about the long ball game, he lived in the moment.
Every hour was a different feeling or experience, but not to be confused with constantly wanting change.

He liked his life, but wondered about the farmed who seemed to need the constant need to want more.

Life had become a moment of recognition. He had evolved or grown out of his infancy.
Social connection made his reality, through positive interaction he met likeminded people and whilst like a magnet he was so far different.

Positive attracting positive in his life.

Just like the north and South Pole are far away, they are not really the polar opposite.
They're just very cold!

Somewhere in the middle was where peter wanted to be , although being average and going unnoticed was not the current trait of an influencer.

That was for the farmed, unknowingly passing through life each day thinking they were unique.
That was the key in keeping them at bay.

Peter had started to get bored of his thinking and watching the farmed operate in such a way they were oblivious.
His government contract of setting the farmed up at home was coming to an end. He was thinking of drifting. He wanted to just comply and drift.
Ignorance was bliss right?

He had become frustrated with the crossword now.
Many hands may be found on it (4) was
a Farm.

It had pissed him off that he had been playing the crossword and that had come up.
He knew an influencer had written it, for all their folk and the watchers, it was a deliberate dig at the farmed.

Chapter 6
So much, yet so little.

That sense of accomplishment. Can't beat it!

Finishing an exam or getting married. The wholesome feeling of completing something you have been waiting for.

Then what?

Of course, the next objective must be met.

Unlike a full cycle of events or an infinite amount of events peter had fully realised that life was finite.

Like a timeline, he had started to plot on a4 paper a line of significant objectives that he had met.

Starting at birth in 1988 the line went to the edge of the page. He presumed that the end was death which weirded him out momentarily.

He wasn't ready for that. He had objectives to meet.

After reviewing the line, he struggled to see what was so significant.

It wasn't until then he realised, he was just like the farmed.

A number, insignificant, a cog in the chain.

He was fine with this, although he knew that knowing this was going to affect him.

He had not fulfilled his influencer potential.

Chapter 7 - Recognition

Peter had been asked to speak at the local community centre next Thursday on the topic of remote working.

As part of the new zonal working laws, the government were particularly keen for people to work at home.
Local businesses in his area regularly met up to share workloads and contracts.
Of course peter was honoured that he could speak in front of them. He couldn't wait to increase his social level.

Social levelling had started in the Far East during the 2020s but Western Europe had really refined it.
Mining and slicing mega data, the state had a finished article.

Air stat.

Air stat was a newly launched social recognition platform that earnt users social credits.
Social credits where excepted unlocked many different opportunities.
From discounts on master degrees, lower rate bank loans, even lesser charges in court.

It was the ultimate and final fully evolved social media platform.

If you didn't have Air stat, it was now not possible to register for a bank.
The state even uploaded birth certificates onto the platform, ensuring a smooth transition to the concept.

Pre air stat, many refused to sign up.
These people were in limbo, whilst those who did not have birth certificates were also outcasted.
These people were known as shadowlurks.

Air stat gave users the ability to instantly trade details of each other via a handshake, bump of the fist, or simply by asking each other.
The tiny chip essentially stored all the vitals of the user.
If you committed a speeding offence for example it would be added to your air stat driving license.

There were though three core principles that upheld the platform and that everyone adhered to.
There was
And Ethic.

Honour was for helping the nation. These were very hard to achieve and only a few credits had been gifted by the state since air stat conception.

Honesty was perceived to be achievable by perception of others. It was not a score necessarily if you lied but also if you did not tell the truth in the right way.
The truth sometimes hurts people's feelings and should be held back or restrained.
These credits were aided by the air stat chip, reading the metrics of brain signals. Kind of like a lie detector test.

Ethic was based on did you make the right moral decision.
Did you avoid taking a pram up a flight of stairs, or did your act of kindness spur others to do the same?
This was known as a multiplier ethic effect, or halo...which boosted your credits per accumulation of act.

Credits were simple.
The more you had for each category the better you were perceived by air stat users and reporters.
The credits were not judged by volume but also by weight.
You would receive a higher weighted credit for saving a life, than picking up litter. Yet none the same still a credit a piece.

Get into minus credits and the shadowlurks may take you in, or it's generally prison.

Other Writing...

It was exactly three years ago today that the insomnia had stopped.

A mixture of self-medicating has proven to Murayama that avoiding his dreams was not the answer.
Looking out of his 6th floor window, lights were still on at 4:30 am.
These were other city dwellers still awake or maybe that slept with the light on.

Down below bin men cleaned rubbish that had been left by the party goers, whilst one man rummaged through a bin to find something worthwhile.
Turning his back on the lights outside, his hotel room was an utter state.

Books, papers and empty bottles of Zinken littered the floor.
Zinken was a strong quick fix to his sleep problems.
A mixture of painkillers and sedatives ensured that he could shut his eyes and rest, yet not dream.
Slowly Murayama lay down and closed his eyes.

So then...
Where may you be travelling today sir?
The check in assistant took the flight details and smiled.
Very nice, make sure to check out Greenwich.
That's where time was invented right?
The start almost?

"I have no care for time sir,
Just trying to find the end."

"Well I guess to find the end you must know the start."

"But what about infinity. Where time never ends. Like that ring you have, which I must say really suits you."

"Why thank you Mr......Jones."
From our records here I can see you fly with us frequently, so on behalf of global air please accept an upgrade today."

"Thank you! I'll make sure to leave a good review."

"Enjoy your flight Mr Jones, the new beds are great! You may rest well."

"No need to worry about that, I don't sleep."

The clock chimes once, and then twice.
Jenxy has been working on the passenger boat now for 15 years.
His father got him the job at the dock when the company had just started.
He looked like a typical dock worker. Stocky, with well-trimmed hair, and could throw a rope on a six pence.

The journey like every other 3pm departure was Westminster to Greenwich.

Looking at his watch Jenxy had managed to get a everyone on board within 6 minutes.
Pretty average today.
His watch was his grandfathers passed down to him when he got the job at the dock.
He loved it dearly and often had it serviced at Greenwich for a good price.

No matter how many times he had taken it there though, the watch would stop me very year on the 19th of June.
He could bet that it would happen with his mates.
15 years, the 19th of June. The watch would stop.

Beep beep
Beep beep

Murayama opened his eyes.
In 3 hours his flight to London would take off.
Stretching and sliding out of bed he slipped on his trousers, jacket, picked up his pre packed suitcase and walked out the down the corridor.

Outside a taxi driver rushed to take his bag, opened the door where Murayama simply sat down in the back.

The drive was straight forward on the road above, specially designed for airport traffic.
Getting to the terminal with plenty of time Murayama sat and drank Zinken.

He was going to London to see a sleep professional.
The world renowned Dr Bengozi.

Dr Bengozi claimed that he could stop people from dreaming, cure insomnia, and if unsuccessful they would get their money back.

Murayama sipped the last of the Zinken and boarded the plane.

Row 19 window seat.

Shutting the window hatch and putting on classical music he sat back and stared at the seat in front.

Mr Jones, where are you?
I've been trying to contact you now for over a month.
Your claim has ju.......

Jones put the phone down and walked to his office window.

Jones worked out that if something was really important a letter would be sent.
No voicemail, txt, or call could persuade him otherwise.

With his eye mask covering his face and topped up on Zinken, Murayama was at ease 30,000 feet in the air.
The flight from japan to London was only 2 hours in.

Dinner was making its way down the aisle and a strong smell of beef resonates throughout the cabin.
Wafting up Murayama's nose, his right leg twitched, banged the seat tray above and woke him from his slumber.

Instinctively Murayama touched his nose with his hand even though his eyes were still shut under the mask.
He thought it was strange that he had done so, but marvelled in the fact that he knew where to touch even though he could not see.
It was almost another sense he thought!
Just like he had been woken up by the sense of smell from dinner, he wondered how many more senses were out there?

The sense of time passing for instance was strong whilst awake, yet when sleeping then waking, he had no idea how much time had aged.

He did know that beef dinner was served and that they usually did this about 2 hours into the flight.

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