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[Academy RP] A day in the life of Joseph Schultz


Fenarr

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Part One

The alarm bells for the city rang. It was five in the morning, the set time every worker should be up. They had to be out of the city by the end of the hour, the kids had to be off to school as well then too. He knew that he had a long day of report writing and filing ahead of him, as it was the start of the workweek. Weeks in Fenarr are different from weeks normally, lasting nine "days" of eighteen and a half hours each. Eight hours are for work or school, four hours are spread out as breaks, basically, a citizen's free time, while the remainder is for being at home. Some jobs require more work hours, which comes with an extra allotment of break time but less home time. Joseph's job is one of the most tedious but comes with little home time, though that is replaced by an extra hour of free time. His official title is a government auditor of the Central Revenue Service, the chief tax collector of the government. Taxes in Fenarr are high, almost at eighty percent, but most services, including healthcare, are provided by the government through a system of departments and agencies of which there are a couple of dozen all spread out in wide government organization charts that he learned in school.

He lies in bed for a couple of minutes more, then gets up to go get dressed and showered. His ankle bracelet, which the government requires, beeps as it detects movement. He remembered to go to the local National Police station to maybe get the volume turned down. Even though he is a government employee, everyone is required to wear these bracelets if not a part of the armed forces, a high government office, a National Assembly member or employee of the national police service. He gets out of the shower, dresses, and walks out of the room, making sure to grab his wallet and his revolver that he was required to carry. It was a requirement for every citizen to carry a firearm over the age of twelve, and gun safety was a mandatory course in schools. The hallway was dark, with the ventilation system running at a low hum. He walked to the cafeteria after closing his door and greeted his neighbors.

There was eight hundred per complex, though there are three cafeterias for the eight hundred, spreading them out into three sectors of each complex. The central hallway that leads to the three pods never broke the surface, as it didn’t have a public access door to it. It only led to a small subway station where they all were to go and board the train for work in thirty minutes. He sat down, chatted with his closest neighbors, and dug into the pre-prepared meal of sausage and cheese with a roll. It was decent food, by no means exemplary or rich looking, but it did its job. It was the same meal every day, same routine besides the national holidays spread throughout the year. One was just right around the corner on the nineteenth, the monthly military parade on the surface. He thought how nice it will be to see sunlight for the first time in a few weeks since the last monthly holiday. The artificial sunlight did well, but it wasn’t very good for the eyes when they saw sunlight again.

The bells tolled, and the neighbors stood up, with Joseph struggling to finish the last of the meal. He wouldn’t get the next meal until lunchtime, almost halfway through his shift. He walked, along with the rest of the complex to the monorail, and waited. Above, on catwalks, officers of the National Security Service and any other number of agents and officers from different government departments watched, in case there was any sign of trouble. The subway station had what was it in the complex for public services, containing a post office, police station and a storehouse that distributed each person’s personal rations that they were allowed to have in their rooms. He waited, then the shrill horn of the train wailed. It pulled up to the station, and he boarded it, crowding in along with the others. He headed to the back of the last car, opened the government issued paper The Daily Worker, and read it as it launched into motion and headed for the city, passing other stations with other complexes waiting for the train to come and get them to take them to work also.

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OOC @Fenarr: You paint quite a visual and bleak image of life in your nation. It gives off a totalitarian vibe. Ankle monitors. Everyone has a gun.

Some angles to explore:

  1. Why does everyone wear a tracker? Why all the guns? What kind of event(s) led to this?
  2. What is life like for the ruling elite? You mention the high government and national assembly. What is life like for them?
  3. What are the chances of people rising up? Is there an underground movement working for the liberation of your people? That'd be interesting to learn more about. 
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Part Two

The train broke the surface and started towards the city of Cabalrosk, Fenar, one of several “cities” around Fenar. It’s massive sprawl contains few dwellings that are reserved for higher level citizens who aren’t at the highest level of government but still hold a managing position within the government. The train approached the entrance to the subway tunnels that run under the city, and, for a few seconds, sunlight pierced the air and reached the citizens below. They passed the grand mansions of the rich and powerful, eight families controlled industry in Fenar, and even though the official tax rate is at almost seventy percent, these families get tax breaks from the government. Joseph looked at the giant, multiple-dozen-room houses and the large pools, the models that were swimming this morning, and the family members drinking scotch and campaigne near the pool. He hasn’t tasted alcohol like that in months, having to settle for the consumption of beer.

 

Then it all disappeared, as reality came back into view as the train went under the streets of the city, and approached the first station. There were thirty stops, and due to the noise restrictions in the city even the subway has to move at a snail’s pace. He had to be at work in an hour. He wanted some decent food on the surface. None of that will probably be possible this morning, as like every morning. There was a train that ran earlier than the one he is supposed to get on, and he knows some in the complex that get on it, but it was mainly used to shuttle military and security service personnel between posts. You had to pay a special fee, ethier in some good, or food that was foreign to the men living in the bunkers underground.

 

It was spring, and the light, crisp air could be felt in the train. It stopped at the first few stations without much delay or issue, then Joseph waited for the train to stop again, his stop. A few seconds later he stepped off onto the platform, and started to walk up the stairs to the surface. He had about ten minutes, there was a cafe that served actual food on a street corner across from the Carroll Building in which he worked. He knew of coworkers using their food ration cards for it, but it was a steep hike. They also used their Fenarrian Markensine, the national currency, to pay for it, though with how limited actual cash income is, they never saw much in the way of any reasonable spending money.

 

He walked down the street, and looked lazily down alleys as he passed, not really searching for anything, but usually there was something interesting in the city in the mornings. He saw a door swing open, and three Officers of the National Guard, basically the government's secret police, throw out a man into the street. Little baggies of some type of powder fell out of his pockets, though it was unclear if he was a dealer or a user. They were merciless, one of the officers drawing their pistol and finishing him off in one single clean shot from the weapon. They then entered the house, and as Joseph watched from a reflection in a shop window, shot three more people pulled outside of the room or apartment through that door.

 

He shook his head, put his hands in his pockets, and looked out at the landscape around him while he continued his walk to his work. It was bleak, the ground only showed dark shades of green, and the grass never really grew. Heavily manicured and bright colored lawn dotted the mansions, but otherwise the only green was seen in dim grass or trees. All a product of the many years of civil war in the 20’s and 30’s. The ground was scorched by the usage of chemical weapons by both sides, with neither side really winning. The rebels, who were fighting the government due to a tax increase, were annihilated or ran for the mountains to start a resistance. The government was badly wounded, and rebuilt into a state that cared about security above all else, including defense from chemical attacks. That is why they lived underground, they were taught.

 

He finally reached his building, and turned inside, heading for a day of mundane work again.

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