#gulag

setting the scene: it is 2048, and the proletarian revolution has begun! leading it is comrade alexei, who, once on a hunt for a notorious corporate CEO, now finds him sitting in the basement of the local gulag.

"Comrade Alexei!" exclaims a commie under his command. "We've got him! We finally found him."

The clouds carried with them a sort of heavy sadness. The sky heaved its dreariness onto the big prison. Only the worst were sent here- pedophile billionaires and crypto bros.

"Wh... what do you mean, you found him?" Alexei stammered, in disbelief. He straightened out his voice. "You're not serious, are you, comrade Felix?"

The commie looked at Alexei earnestly. "Seriously. We found the bastard lurking around the gates. We're lucky he's such an idiot. We may have never caught him otherwise."

"Yeah, well, what can you expect from a CEO?" Alexei softly chuckled. He tried to hide his glee, but he couldn't stop his grin. He patted comrade Felix on the shoulder, telling him what a good boy he was for catching this evil capitalist.

As per usual protocol, it would be another comrade going to get the prisoner's information, and generally sorting out their gulag time. But for this? Comrade Alexei had to see this man. Ever since the revolution in 2041, he had been searching for him. One of the most notoriously rich people on the planet, underpaying his workers so badly that they themselves were the key in revolting against the capitalist class as a whole. It was that bad. And it was all his fault.. CEO Mishka... In fact, Alexei was one of those workers himself. He had only ever seen Mishka once, on a quick inspection of the factory. The CEO's eyes glazed over him like he was nothing. A speck of dust. Worse- something gross and inferior. Like he could step on him and smear all of his insides on the floor, and no one would care.

Seven years. That was how long Alexei had been searching. Granted, he had a whole country to help to run. A whole new economic system to uphold. And yet... Mishka was in the back of his mind always. Taunting him with his money-hungry eyes. He lifted barrels of beer and sacks of potatoes (and weights I guess) with the thought of finally overpowering him. For days on end he would fantasize about finally getting to him; pinning him down to the ground and seeing how helpless he really was under Alexei's rule. And that day had finally come.

...

The door of the dungeo- I mean basement jail had unlocked with two loud clicks. Mishka sat in the corner of the room when Alexei entered, two absolutely shredded comrades beside him.

"You're looking pretty good for a man who's been on the run for the last-" Alexei pretended to wonder- "... how many years now ?"

It was true. Mishka, despite being roughened-up a bit by the guard comrades upon his capture, looked like his old self. Fresh(ish) black button-up, with a loosened light blue tie around his neck. Sleek leather shoes poked out from his well-fitting suit pants.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't been keeping track of all this time," hissed Mishka, slowly scrambling to get up from his dazed state. "You're obsessed with me." The two beefy comrades behind Alexei cocked their guns as a warning. Alexei stepped up, looking down at the pathetic man. He crossed his beefy arms, and leaned on the cold, basement wall.

"You know..." he said, voice becoming gravelly. "It wasn't very clever of you to come by here. Practically knocking on my door. Hm?"

Suddenly, Mishka came right at Alexei, swinging a shard of glass at his face. The comrade gave out a short hiss of pain as it cut through his right cheek, before the two jacked comrades behind him went PEW! and shot the CEO in the shoulder. He fell back and clutched the wound as he let out a sudden yelp. Comrade Alexei gently touched his bloodied cheek, before turning to his two comrades.

"Leave. Shut the door behind you. I'll deal with this myself."

"Uh, Comrade Alexei, are you sure y-"

"Just do it," he replied in a low growl. They did as they were told- it was just the two of them now. In a basement gulag. Mishka lay shaking from the shock of the bullet wound in the middle of the room. Alexei crouched down into a squat in front of him, trying to get a look at Mishka's face.

"Look at me," he said, in a deeper voice than usually. "I've been looking for you for years. Can't you at least give me this?"

Reluctantly, Mishka strained his neck and stared right at the commie. Deep, nearly black eyes gazed at him. He couldn't tell what they were trying to say. Mishka's lips were parted, letting out inconsistent pants of pain. His smooth mahogany skin was asking to be stained red. "Are you happy?"

Alexei tilted his head to the side, as if inspecting this evil boy with a sort of enthusiasm. "Let me-" he began, and reached out his gloved hand to the boy's bloodied shoulder. He flinched, trying to scramble back to the wall. "Come on, now. Despite our history, I do need you alive now, don't I?" The corner of Mishka's mouth flinched. He was exhausted. There was nothing he could resist. Alexei came closer, and kneeling before him, carefully unbuttoned Mishka's crisp shirt. Alexei himself wore a slutty camo crop-top, worn-out and ripped from use, as well as tight-fitting cargo-style pants, with seemingly endless pockets keeping God knows what. Peak revolutionary fit right there.

With the finger-less gloves still on, Alexei pulled the shirt slightly off of Mishka's shoulder, and with an unnecessary amount of pressure, delved his finger into the wound. He dug around the metal bullet, feeling warm blood trickle out of the wound, and hearing a drawn-out sob escape Mishka's lips, until it fell to the floor with a clatter.

But he hadn't seen enough of this boy yet. He grabbed Mishka by his chestnut hair and dragged him up to the wall by one fist, hearing his raspy grunts.

"Did you even think about me, filth?" Alexei sneered. Blood trickled from his cheek, hurting his ego further. He wouldn't let this evil capitalist mock him like this.

Mishka sighed contentedly, languid eyes meeting the commie's. "Not really. I guess I had better things on my mind."

"Well," Alexei's voice lowered, "I guess I'm going to have to make sure you never forget me." He dropped the weak boy onto the stone floor, and as he watched him struggle to get back on his feet, pulled off his gloves. Just as Mishka raised himself, hand stabilizing himself on the wall, Alexei threw a punch, right at his pretty face. Mishka stumbled back, back on the wall, voicing a restrained whimper. The commie pinned him to the wall. Their noses nearly touched. "Do you see this?" He gestured to the cut on his cheek. "It's been years since anyone's hurt me like this." Mishka, as if using his last strength, grinned with bloodied teeth. "Lick it." Mishka spat on his cheek, watching the spit mix with the crimson blood. Alexei's gaze didn't waver. "Fine."

He threw Mishka across the room like a ragdoll, watching him hit the wall with a thud, gasping. Slouched against the wall, Mishka doubled over, coughing blood onto the floor. Alexei stood over him. With his thick boot, he dug his heel into Mishka's willy, hearing the insistent whining through his gritted teeth. "Aw," Alexei mocked, watching sweet tears fall down Mishka's cheeks. "You want to taste it too?

"F...fleck you," the capitalist managed to let out in between hoarse moans. His helpless whimpers turned to hungry panting once the boot was off; Alexei towered in front of him and despite Mishka's sharp cries, now dug his boot into his bloodied shoulder. The boy was shaking. With his last strength, he pushed the boot off, and attempted to get up.

With an unrestrained groan, Alexei threw another punch at Mishka, watching him helplessly fall once again. He heard the loud thud of his back against the floor, making him sharply let out a gasp of air. Trembling, he tried to scramble away, but with a kick to the twink-ass-waist, Mishka stayed put. The commie crawled on top of Mishka, hearing his sweet, needy pleas. His knee was pressing down on his tender willy btw.

"Lick it," he repeated with a raspier voice. Apprehensively, Mishka's twitching tongue slowly lapped at the bleeding cut on his cheek. He writhed under his hold. "Good boy," he whispered. "Whose boot are you under?"

Mishka hesitated, but with the added pressure on his throbbing willy, continued, "Y-yours..." Blood trickled onto his chin.

"And who controls the means of production?"

"Y... you... master..." The boot was lifted, and Mishka rolled onto his side, coughing out all of the crimson substance. Panting, Alexei made his way to the door, but stopped. He lifted his bloodied, trembling knuckles, as if admiring what he'd done.

"Maybe there is a way to rehabilitate you," he muttered. "I'll be seeing you in a couple days."

One grandfather went to war against the Finns during ww1 as an 18-17-year-old boy. They captured him, gave him some medical care (cut off his frost-bitten toes), and let him go back home.

He kept it a secret until his deathbed because Russia tended not to treat ex-Pows very well. They were viewed with HIGH suspicion. So he might not have been sent to a camp, but it's likely he would have been, and he definitely should have faced interrogations and predjudice

My great-grandmother just existed as a Jewish girl. At around 19ish, she was part of a small amount of people that got picked by the state to attend a nice summer camp. Well, someone got really jealous and essentially said. “Why did SHE get to go to the fun place and not me? She must secretly be in league with “the jews” and they helped her get in!”

No one defended my great-grandmother, not even her boyfriend at the time, my great-grandfather, except for her best friend. I don’t know the exact words that were said, but from the information I’ve gathered, it went something like this:

“What the fuck is wrong with you, assholes. Why are you complaining about an orphan having something nice? Oh, so she went to summer camp? Where did you go during the summer? To your home? The home that you have? To your loving parents--who are ALIVE? Fuck you.” And the charges were dropped.

Knjiga: https://ia601309.us.archive.org/20/items/historyDEEPWEB/The%20Gulag%20Archipelago%20-%20Aleksandr%20Solzhenitsyn.pdf

Ta knjiga pokaže realnosti sovjetskega komunizma. Solzhenitsyn navaja primer gojenja kulta osebnosti ter vzdušja, ki je vladalo:

Prejšnji sekretar partije je bil aretiran, tako da ga je zamenjal nov.

Na koncu konference so imeli aplavz za Stalina. Vsi si vstali, to ni bil navaden aplavz, to je bila ovacija, ki je lahko trajala 8 - 15 minut.

Še oboževalcem Stalina se je zdelo neumno. Od vsega "navdušenega" ploskanja ter ovacij so bili starejši na koncu od izčrpanosti, roke so bolele,... Ampak, kdo si bo prvi upal nehat z ploskanjem, saj so Stalinovi ljudje budno opazovali, kdo je najmanj zavzet ter najmanj ploska. Kdo bo prvi nehal?

Ljudje so padali po tleh od srčnih napadov, izčrpanosti ter so jih z nosili nosili stran,.. Niso si upali nehat ploskati ter končat ovacij,..

Po 11 minutah je direktor lokalne tovarne papirja imel dovolj. Kot poslovnež se je usedel na stol. Dovolj je bilo ploskanja!!! In kot čudež, ker je bil on prvi so tudi ostali nehali ter se usedli na sedeže. Bili so rešeni muk.

Isto noč je bil ta človek aretiran, saj je po 11 minutah prvi nehal ploskat. Dobil je 10 zaporne let kazni. Izpraševalec ga je opomnil, da nikoli ne bodi prvi, ki nehaš z aplavzom, tudi če po 11 minutah,...

Večina ljudi ni ploskala zaradi navdušenja, ampak zaradi strahu, da ne bodo umorjeni ter pristali v gulagu sredi Sibirije. Bili so prisiljeni.

To je esenca sovjetskega socializma&komunizma, od katerega so se naši komunisti učili od Rusov ter ga prinesli v Slovenijo.