“Brothers! Sisters! Do not be deceived! The end is NOT near!”
“And that guy?”
“Ugh… don’t listen to him, he’s one of those Eliseists… they’re all completely nuts.”
Maybe it was true, but he chose to ignore the poor souls who refused to believe.
That was their problem! He would be saved, and humanity would be saved along with him. Those who perished were not part of humanity, it was that simple.
“Like me, you too can accept the truth in your hearts. The technology around you is nothing but a distraction, a temporary game unsustainable over time. The 22nd century was a century of wisdom and contemplation, the first step toward a natural and pure human being, without machines, without pollution, without contamination.”
It was true. For everything that was sacred, nothing was truer than that. In the 22nd century, the famous “Lockdown” had been declared, which had curbed the rampant technological advance humanity had experienced throughout the 21st century. The singularity had ravaged the planet, and the nations had managed to react in time to regulate progress for progress’s sake.
Not even the best of intentions had put artificial intelligence to good use. Armies of androids had been deployed to incinerate entire regions. The internet had become a minefield. Privacy ceased to exist, becoming a privilege only for the powerful.
By the time people had come to their senses, the damage had already been done. But there was still time to heal, still a chance to repair the mistakes of the past.
“I know what you think of me,” he insisted, shouting even louder. “When Eliseism reached me, I was an unhappy man, unable to detach from my simulacri. I spent hours watching holo-screens and couldn’t bear a single day without injecting myself with a vile neuroshot. I escaped my torment through virtual reality games and holographic games, and I even fell into horrible drugs that consumed my body from the inside out. When I understood, thanks to my Eliseist brothers, that we don’t need technology, but that technology needs us, my life took a complete turn. When I realized that what we need as humans is pure Prototopia, I finally became a fulfilled man.”
“Booo! Call of Honor 17 is the best game that’s come out in the last decade!” jeered a teenager.
“Yeah, put some clothes on and get out of here,” another shouted.
People looked at him because of his peculiar clothing—a hand-sewn robe, made from animal and plant-based fabrics. He had not a single wire connected to his ear, no augmented reality glasses, nothing that suggested the presence of a simulacri. Nothing. Just what nature could provide and what his hands could create.
Eliseism was considered an anti-religion, anti-technology sect, a joke to society, but it had been its main representatives who had contributed to the sacred Lockdown of the 22nd century.
“They mock, blind and blinded, because they don’t want or can’t see beyond the veil that technology has cast in front of you. But Prototopia promises much more—much more wealth, much more progress, much more abundance than any device in your hands or any religion in your souls.”
“The proto… what?” asked a young woman timidly behind him. He could recognize in her eyes the same sadness and devastation he had felt long ago.
“Prototopia, my sister. The true paradise! Could you imagine a utopian place? What would it be like? Green, with pure air, no noise, no pollution, no constant stress of having to meet a schedule. For all that is sacred, without time! Time is the greatest lie of progress. If you could live your life without depending on time, with your only concerns aligned with basic needs of subsistence, protection, and affection—eating, growing, and reproducing—wouldn’t you?”
She didn’t respond, but he could see a glimmer of hope spark in her eyes.
“Do you know when such a utopia existed? Centuries and centuries ago! At the very beginning, when ‘technology’ only served to meet basic needs, when the proto-humans set out to discover the world around them. But we have the advantage of millennia of knowledge—a wisdom accumulated over the years that allows us to see countless paths to achieve Prototopia, a society living in communion with nature.”
“Shut up, hippie!” they insulted him again, this time throwing a cup of some sticky, disgusting drink at him.
“Do you see it?” he responded, unshaken. “Do you think this violence, this fury, would exist in a place where we coexist with one another? Do you think this”—he gestured with his arms, trying to encompass all the concrete and skyscrapers around him—“is our natural habitat? No, my brothers and sisters! This is a prison!”
“Enough shouting for today, this man does not represent us,” said two new spectators, both wearing the insignia of Eliseism on their clothes.
The elite. Those who used the purest belief system of humanity for their own benefit. Their time to pay would come when they realized their lives were empty.
“Eliseism does not support this madness of Prototopia,” one of them declared loudly. “You may go on with your lives without paying attention to this madman.”
The crowd dispersed, and the teenagers pushed him as they walked past. But, as a blessing, a gentle hand helped him to his feet.
“I want to,” said the young woman. “I want to build that utopia. The… the Prototopia.”