Yes, this is open, but that by no means equals "come in and post as many shitty one liner posts as you want". Decent RPing only, anything else will be ignored. Yes, Axiom Corporation is a puppet. No, I will not tell you whose puppet it is; you should be able to figure it out if you acknowledge the fact that is use really long words randomly in the middle of sentences, I write in a wannabe-Charles Dickens style, I use "s" instead of "z" in almost every word and I make up really weird first names for all of the RP characters.
A PLEA FOR HELP FROM THE CITIZENS OF AXOMIA
I write this knowing that I may be arrested at any moment and my life destroyed. That I accept, for while I may die, because of my actions countless others may live.
The nation of Axomia is not what the world thinks it is. We are tormented; forced to do nothing but work. We are never allowed to do so much as think for ourselves; for education here ends at seven, whereupon children are sent to work in "experience houses" - no more than child brothels for wealthy internationals and forced labour camps. This continues until our bones have shattered; in Axomian conditions, this happens at about forty years of age; whence we are "shut down" and never spoken of again.
The government is no more than a corporation. Axomia is nothing but a sprawling complex of factories for the Axiom Corporation. Axomia is a mere mask, a disguise for the disgusting and inhumane for the largest concentration camp ever seen in history.
I call for any man with any decency who may find themselves reading this: rise, rise and help your fellow man, rescue us from tyranny, rescue us from oppression. You, my friends, are our only hope.
A thick, black blanket of smoke covered the Axomian capital, Caesia, blotting out the sun. The sky had not been blue for at least four years: ever since foreign demand had exploded and trade had boomed, the factories had been running, full steam ahead, non-stop, and twenty-four hours a day. The noxious fumes from smouldering plastic, the choking vapours of burnt coal: all of it, all of the residue, all of the pollution, hung over the city, plunging it into a sort of never-ending twilight. A regular man would have blacked out within five minutes of standing out in the open air, but the Axomian residents, their faces now gnarled by years of genetic mutation at the hands of the omnipresent filth, seemed to be able to exist in such an atmosphere quite capably. Momentarily, one would cough and spit out a stream of dark brown saliva, but that was it.
In Axomia, every man, woman and child either went to work or school in one of three shifts; one in the evening, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Children would study basic English, Chinese and Mathematics in school until the age of seven - just enough to perform basic tasks in the workforce - and then be sent off to labour away in one of the towering manufacturing plants dotted all over the city. While the argument of efficiency was used to promote this: "Why teach something to a child when they'll never use it?" read a propaganda slogan plastered on a lamp post in the street - there was, indeed, a more sinister purpose. With only a basic education, there would be no free thought, no rebellion, no philosophy - each human was turned into a mere machine made of flesh and bone, screwing plastic Barbie heads to naked vacuum-formed doll bodies.
While it had prevented the government from running into any challenges, there was every now and then a glitch in the system. Oruggus Aedia was one of those glitches.
An alarm bell rung in Oruggus's apartment block. That was the call for the "night shift" to rise. In almost perfect unison, every person rose from their beds, slipped into their work clothes, and filed out of the building in a straight line, towards the train stop. As he and the line joined members of other residences outside, he looked around at the dreary suburb he had for so many years called home. Each district was about the size of two city blocks, surrounded on all sides by high, interconnected concrete walls and armed by guards carrying large rifles. There was only one way out, through a retractable steel gate which only opened every time a train came by. He sighed as he shuffled towards the rusted doors of the carriage, but as he started moving, his heart began to thump and a wash of nervousness overcame him.
Today was the day that he was going to get out of this place.
Soon, he had made his way to the district containing his workplace, a large, seafood concern. But as his coworkers filed into the building, he secretly slipped off behind one of the concrete walls, where he found a small fat man waiting for him. He had no hair, but a moustache graced his upper lip and gave him the look of a gentleman. The truth, of course, was very different.
"Go, go in," he said, pointing to a small hole in the ground.
Wriggling, Oruggus managed to only just fit inside, and as soon as he felt his feet touch the damp earth below him, he began to crawl desperately towards a small light source he could see a few metres ahead of him. He could feel the skin being torn off of his arms by the stones and rough gravel which he was sliding upon, and had to muffle a scream of pain by shoving his face in the dirt beside him. Each time he felt like giving up and ending it all, he had to tell himself that he was doing this for the good of all the citizens of Axomia, and not only himself. That seemed to fill him with a sense of confidence, and soon, he found himself directly below a small slit in a metal disc above him.
He pushed it out of his way with some difficulty, not being able to muster strength from his legs, which were more or less trapped after him.
As he looked up, he saw two police officers dressed in their navy-blue uniforms looking down upon him. Before he could even move his lips, he was nothing more than a lump of skin, flesh and hardened calcium lying on the ground. Oruggus had been terminated, just like all the glitched machines before him had been.
