Imprisoned Rich

The deep grey vault had lost its light, no one could remember how long they had been in the dark. At one point they had been on top of the world, now they stood below the boots of those they had forced to pee into bottles.

He ran through the dark tunnels, the floor was nice and cold. His pupils had long since dilated, he could barely tell the difference between colours. He carried an axe with him. In this nuclear-proof catacomb he was with forty others, or at least that was the number when they had started.

As he walked through the tunnels he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. It had been a long time since he had been where he currently stood.

The entrance, where we heard the news. He sat there for a moment, remembering the exact sentence that had started this mess. "Now They have imprisoned Themselves what shall We do?". Those words still ring in my ears, those terrible words.

But even a moment of stillness can mean danger in these catacombs. So he went on the prowl. Jamie might still be around, maybe I can get him. He left the exit, entering a labyrinth within the bunker. It was aptly called ‘The Labyrinth’, or at least it had been before the food had run out. There's always someone in the labyrinth. He thought

It took little to no time to find another.

So Jamie is still alive, great, and he’s plump, how has no one gotten him yet. A once timid man named Jamie sat, balling his eyes out in the corner of the hallway. He too had been a billionaire.

“Hello?” Jamie said. He had seen a little movement in the darkness. “Is anyone ther-'' his words were cut short by the swift movement of an axe over his throat. The murderer dragged the body to a secret chamber, then flayed it and ate the flesh. The blood splattered all over his bald head.

The blue room had an open window, leading to the beautiful day outside. He had once been a serial thief, now he was just a man. He walked down the stairs from his room and made breakfast, then he left for a stroll before work.

He passed the local post office, the red flag of the world-government flew in the cool breeze. He shielded his eyes from the sun. The backpack he wore felt especially heavy today, maybe it was since he had woken up earlier than normal. The grandiose street filled its travellers with joy.

Soon he found himself on a path he tread on occasion, a path up to one of the old bunkers. Once he reached it, he read a plack on the door.

“Here lies the monument to the old ways. Do not release those who dwell in here, for they are the ones who can revive the old ways.”

Let’s hope that they still believe that nuclear scare we gave them. He thought. Then he went to work.

He worked in government bureaucracy. He was a ‘teller’, his role was to dole out resources to the ones that needed it. Of course, only as much as made people equal. Unless people had saved resources, then they could store them in their resource stores. Anyway, it was rather dull.

When he got home, he immediately went up to his room. He changed to some more comfy clothes. He was going out for dinner with some friends.

“Hey guys!” he said, arriving at a pub that they frequented.

“How’s it going man?” replied Rogrod, one of his friends, they had known each other since university.

“Ehn, it's fine.” he said as he sat on one of the stools.

“What do you want?” asked a man behind the desk.

“Can I have a steak?”

“Sure, and you?”

“Oh, I’ll have what he’s having.”


Another one of their friends showed up, along with another, and another. Then their meals came.

He dug into his artificial steak, he took one bite, a small splash of the artificial blood spilled onto his shirt.