resistance

If, on one hand, there were people who died waiting for medical care, on the other there were people with private care systems who were extracted by flying vehicles that would reach them in, at most, 180 seconds anywhere in the city. And get this: those vehicles didn’t carry only doctors. They also carried heavily armed soldiers to ensure the extraction of the “insured.”

Security levels were designated by metals. I found that somewhat familiar to your time — platinum, gold, silver, copper. I don’t even need to explain what kind of money it took to have those tiers, nor which one was considered the “top” care plan.

Buildings were raised within other cities — monsters built with 200 or 250 floors, usually pyramidal in shape with bases of around 800 by 800 meters. They were far more common than you might imagine. The most modern structures could exceed 1 kilometer in height, with bases of 40,000 square meters.

Aerial traffic for the wealthy contrasted sharply with people pushing shopping carts through the streets, carrying their belongings — “carts” like the ones you use in supermarkets in your time. These people moved through the city with all their family possessions inside those carts.

Places that were once seas became settlements, and deserts were turned into fuel extraction sites because, just as we had plasma-powered cars, we still also had gasoline-powered vehicles, as I mentioned before. It was as if the “transition” was never fully completed across all layers of society. It became an endless transition. Something else entirely—we changed, but not completely, not across all dimensions. And in fact, we should have learned this already from your time.

The revolution, before being technological, should have been centered on ethics and on the relationships between beings and environments.

Allow me to summarize the main historical milestones that shaped the world I inhabit, so that you, from the 21st century, can better understand the reality surrounding me.

Climate change intensified in 2958. It was a turning point for Earth, and its consequences still reverberate through our daily lives.

The vortices — phenomena of still not fully understood origin — first manifested in 2222. It is believed they were not limited to our planet, possibly having emerged in other regions of the universe as well. This occurred 801 years before the date on which I’m currently writing this story for you: the year 3023.

Perhaps now is the moment to tell you that the colonizations that followed 2222, as well as migrations and immigrations, began to occur at an astonishing speed due to the existence of these vortices. Very quickly, transportation through these portals became something that required mechanical, electronic, or even mystical technologies.

Control over the vortices fell into the hands of the Petacorporations, and at the beginning there were not many wars over them.

All vortices were mapped and classified into three types:

Cardinal vortices, which were enormous and carried very high energy;

Fixed vortices, which were stable and had more controlled energy, and therefore became the most commonly used for transportation;

And finally, the so-called mutable vortices, which appear and disappear very quickly, making them highly unpredictable and difficult to harness.

It’s easy to guess that the existence of these vortices completely altered the dynamics of travel and movement, especially in terms of immigration and migration. As a result, true “bunkers” were often established around them, for both protection and control.

There is a very real possibility that these vortices have appeared in the same way on other planets of our constellation, and I believe that it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to think that his might be happening across the whole universe as a way of enabling contact between worlds. However, the true reason why this occurred is still far from clear. At least, it has never been publicly disclosed.

The groups that currently coexist in our society include dwarves, elves, halflings, orcs, trolls and humans, but we know that there are other uncatalogued species, as well as some extremely rare ones such as Drakotheriums, whose presence remains poorly understood.

Halflings are small in stature but immense in craftiness. They are masters of evasion — not by cowardice, but by ancient wisdom. Luck seems to follow them like a living shadow, deflecting arrows, disarming traps, and confusing the eyes of the enemies. Mystical fortune is embedded in their DNA. Their eyes gleam with a restless curiosity, as if they knew the world is about to collapse — and they already have an escape plan.

Humans, whom we have never truly understood, are seen as versatile, chaotic, unpredictable. They are the architects of decadent metropolises and glorious ruins. Capable of heroic feats and unspeakable horrors, humans are driven by ambition, fear, and hope. They possess no natural gifts like the other peoples, but make up for it with brutal adaptability. They are the protagonists and the villains — the ones who build machines to control magic, and the ones who sell their souls for power. They are the reflection of the world itself: broken, yet relentless. 

The Elves are as ancient as the winds that blow across forgotten cities. They are beautiful, yes — but not in any human sense. Their beauty is alien, cold, almost unsettling. Magic pulses through their veins like electricity through high-voltage cables. They are arrogant, not by choice, but by memory. Now they watch the world’s decline with sorrowful eyes and sharpened blades. When they fight, it’s like they’re dancing with death itself.

The dwarves are forgers of metals, alloys, and destinies. Long ago, before your time, it was said that “every hammer strike in a dwarf forge is a prayer to forgotten gods.” They are stubborn, resilient, and loyal to the very end. In times of crisis, they are the ones who hold the line, the ones who never retreat. Dwarves are the engineers of resistance, the ones who craft weapons with souls and bridges with purpose.

Then there are the Orcs, born from war and shaped by pain. They are seen as warriors, but they carry a culture rich in honor, ritual, and brutal poetry. Their bodies are living fortresses, but their minds are labyrinths of moral conflict. They are the ones who challenge the system, who break chains, who rage against injustice with fists and fire. They are the revolutionaries, the martyrs, the ones who believe the world is not changed through words — but through action.

And then there are the Trolls, creatures transformed by magical radiation and the cruelty of time. They regenerate as though pain were nothing more than a fleeting memory. They are the forgotten guardians, protectors of secrets no one was meant to uncover.

In 2488, a new planetary political order was established. This occurred 266 years after the emergence of the vortices and 535 years before the moment in which I write this.

I can remember clearly the year of 3021, when I celebrated my 15th birthday at TRIX — one of the most sophisticated entertainment venues of today. Maria, my closest friend, my sister, was 14 years old at the time.

After the great rebellions, it wasn’t hard to see new groups rising in both big and small neighborhoods, trying to change the power structures. It was normal, almost expected.

And you know what’s funny? The technological artifacts used in these conflicts — yes, I’m laughing as I write this — were often supplied or allowed by the very people in power. They let the smaller factions fight each other over worthless territories, unproductive zones, as if it were some kind of game. But it was never just a game. It was a well-known strategy, tested and executed with precision.

These practices, these “plays,” as we used to call them, were encouraged by a system of governance that honestly bordered on criminal behavior. The great corporations and the corporate elite knew exactly what they were doing. They used these local conflicts as a means of maintaining control. While the small powers fought among themselves, the powerful kept their own domains untouched — and profitable.

Gangs fighting over nothing in forgotten zones had always been a convenient condition for those at the top. As long as the production of goods and wealth continued to grow, no one up there cared about what happened in the alleys below.

I want to tell you about a phenomenon that completely changed the course of these power struggles. It was unexpected, and it caught a huge portion of the population by surprise. My intention here is to show that what we are able to see most of the time conceals deeper movements beneath the surface, hidden currents moving through dark corners and paths that very few are able to access. The truth is that we never see the whole picture. Even with great effort, even with advanced technology, we still need other minds, other means of seeing.

In 3021, the then ruler — Mr. B — was the catalyst for this change. A megalomaniacal puppet, with absolutely zero sense of responsibility, attracted followers of the so-called “Old Scriptures”. I’m talking about the RUTs: Radical Urban Theocrats. An even more irrational and dangerous group, and to make matters worse, absurdly wealthy. Those who lacked credits tried to compensate with religious fervor. Some even went so far as to name their children “Messiah,” especially those born from unlikely unions, as if that could somehow serve as redemption.

Mister B, that tasteless joke of a man, even had the audacity to place his entire family in government positions. He became a kind of showcase — a living “portrait” — used by powerful businessmen and extremist corporate radicals. He spread hatred, violent ideas, abusive rhetoric, and outright criminal ideology. And the most terrifying part: half the population followed him. They believed in his manipulations.

Shadow media supported him. It fueled everything with twisted narratives about censorship, inverting meanings, distorting intentions, sowing confusion. How do you resist something like that? Honestly, we still don’t know. And perhaps that is the question that will haunt us for a very long time.

Mister B’s influence grew far too quickly. By the time we realized what was happening, he was already everywhere — on every channel, across every network, woven into every speech. But not everyone stayed silent. The resistance began timidly, almost invisibly, as though it were afraid of being noticed. And for good reason — to be noticed meant to be erased.

Independent groups slowly began organizing in the underground sectors of the city, far from the reach of surveillance algorithms. Hackers, dissident artists, former military operatives, even a few repentant ex-corporate figures. Together they built parallel communication networks, encrypted systems where we could exchange information without being tracked.

Others infiltrated the government, sabotaging systems, leaking documents, revealing the ties between Mr. B and the RUTs. It was an information war, with no bullets. And even then, many fell.

The population, little by little, opened their eyes. Small protests began in neutral zones, where corporate presence was weaker. Some neighborhoods declared themselves autonomous, rejecting any ties with the central government. The alt media — the one that still resisted — amplified those voices.

But the most powerful movement was the “Owls Without Lights – OWLs”. It wasn’t a formal organization. It was an idea. A way of seeing the world without filters. People started to question, to investigate, to disconnect from official networks. And as simple as it may sound, it scared Mr. B.

The resistance hasn’t won. Not yet. But it exists. And as long as it exists, so does hope.