#documenting art

one a day 366/220

There're no humans left on Earth. Not the 21st century definition of them anyways.

Through some calamity or other, manmade or otherwise they've perished. Very few records have been found of how they died, but how they lived has been highly documented. We found ourselves in a place familiar but completely alien, this new world is formed by representations. Corporate agendas and religious motifs have rolled into one giving rise to bizarre new world doctrines. "God has plans to improve you. God wants your forgiveness. God wasn't ready when they rolled out the last update; God thanks you for your patience." chimed one. This extends to the populace as well as their habitat. Bizarre mockeries of the human being roamed the length of the star system, pale iterations of the modern man.

There were the blue skinned ones who glistened in the moonlit sky as deities often do drawn to cybernetic augmentation. You'd hard pressed to tell them apart from humans at the surface, their silhouette and stance, however, were closer to the images of Hindu gods.

They retain a lot of their human genes, descended from cryogenically frozen colonizers who left Earth before the 'War' but who, due to some genetic tampering lose all emotions as they grow up. There were the ones who bond with the internet to become vanguards of information, now revered as priests. They have been left physically changed through this process and make up a new species, one capable of photosynthesis required neither food nor air.

There was the odd robot or two, the ancient ones who reared most of the younger generations after the adults went to work. They were made for space travel at the epitome of human ingenuity with amalgams from the rarest of Earth metals, they've lasted millennia with terabytes of storage. They saw it all, if they could they'd recount how the humans truly lived but alas, they couldn't speak. There's a sense of sadness in these older robots doomed to wander a desolate wasteland, servitude written in their code. Waiting for commands that'll never come. All they want to do now is dream.

The skyline was dotted by palaces which were malls, ancient gods and fictional characters enjoying the same reverence. Ads looked like sermons, no one could say where virtual ended and real began. People chose to forget what wasn't important. It started out innocently enough, embarrassments and trivialities, but soon, people started forgetting tragic events which much was too to bear changing the course of entire cultures. Government organize en masse erasures.

We now have ended up with a people who no longer remember their stories. They have become what they believed they are. The race wars ended by simply understanding that they are a different species. They are more united than ever. Man and their commodities all choose their preferred identities. They work not for credit but for a perverted devotion to corporate entities who due to their virtual forms have assumed the identity of gods and govern their subjects with promise of improvements.

Nobody owns anything, but they expect the promised improvements.

Leveling up isn't a thing for videogames it is their social currency.