The first (web2 based) experiment of timewriting on twitter. Yes the UX is terrible since you need to click through all the quoted tweets, that’s why here is the full story that has developed so far.
Day -24 (Badmonky)
“Good morning people of the world. This is the daily broadcast with news of everything important since the dawn of the DAO. In todays news:
Day -23 (Badmonky) Coming around the corner of my chicken coop as I like to think of it, I instantly get into a better mood in anticipation of my evening ritual. I walk up to the spigot outside and will my water bottle. The water was brown, but I built myself a filter from an old plastic bottle, rocks, sand and charcoal. Its amazing how well it works. When I make my Tea, you cannot tell that the water once looked like toxic sludge. The good part was that due to this fact nobody else ever used this spigot, and I felt like it was my personal source of water.
Day -22 (Nymitzus) As I wiped the remaining shaving cream from my face and looked into my own eyes in the bathroom mirror, I thought about tomorrow's appearance checks. I thought about all the people I had to force into a mold that didn't fit them. Even children were expected to present themselves in a certain way or face consequences. Somewhere along the lines, the belief that everyone was equal morphed into the belief that everyone needed to be the same. I truly believe that at one time the DAO stood for justice and equality, but somewhere along the lines it had become something much more sinister.
Day -21 (Badmonky)
Coming around the last block on my appearance checks today. “Hello Ms. Hardy, you know why I am here?”, “Yes of course” she replied, and called for the kids, “Max, Viv, appearance checks!” Ms. Hardy was a single Mom. Her husband was a casualty of the new system. The kids came around the corner and lined up in front of me. I noticed the residue of what appeared to be blue lipstick on one of them, but chose to give them a break. “Thank you. All good, but make sure you get rid of that blue stuff, ok?”, I said and winked at them. As I drove away I thought that Ms. Hardy’s reaction seemed strange. As if she didn’t know about the lipstick. She must know, right? Where would the kid have gotten it from if not from her mom? The longer I thought about it, the more I regretted my decision to not report on it. What if Ms. Hardy is gonna report her own kid? Sure enough, as soon as I got back to the office to clock out, my boss called my into his office. Ms. Hardy had called. The only thing that saved me was the fact that Ms. Hardy didn’t tell them that I saw. What world do we live in where mothers report their own children?
Day -20 (Nymitzus)
I tried to spend the day making up for what had happened yesterday. God, how could I be so fucking stupid? This was an absolute beginner's mistake and they had called me on it. I had to show them I was better than this. It was unfortunate that I was under pressure to be at my best on a Priming day, when Priming always made me feel my worst. But still, I was determined to make a good impression on everyone I came into contact with today, and I think I succeeded. But it was exhausting. No one tells you how much of a toll it takes, pretending to be something you're not every waking hour of every day. But, slip up once, succumb to the mental and physical exhaustion that's lived with you for over a decade, and they would take care of it for you.
Day -19 (Badmonky)
What day is it? I think its Friday, but I am never sure. Fridays are always a blur, yet they are the highlight of the week. Even though there was a constant level of brain for present, the fact remained that Fridays were the days that allowed for some freedom. Somehow they managed to trick our brains into feeling joy in all this fog, and most of us chose to stay home and indulge on that very feeling.
Day -18 (Badmonky)
“Decommissioning”, how fucked up is it that this is the word we use for our dying kin, friends and neighbors these days? Of course there is a reason for it, and in the eyes of the new order it is justified, and serving a greater purpose, that low level operatives like my self cannot understand. Still, I find it disrespectful. Though I believe that’s part of the point. They are taking emotions out of every aspect of our lives with the goal to create the most efficient society to have ever existed. Feelings get in the way of efficiency after all.
Day -17 (Badmonky)
With the years end approaching quickly I submitted for a permit to go see my grandfather in the “center for decommissioning”. He was in bad health for years, and really took a turn for the worst over the last few months. So I wanted to make sure to go see him before it was too late. As we sat in his room, he grabbed me by the cheeks, looked me in the eyes and said very quietly: “You can never repeat what I am going to tell you now. I was a founding member of the DAO 22 years ago. We had good intentions. But things took a turn for the worst only two years into the information revolution we all thought we were a part of. I remember the day like it was yesterday where the world was forever changed through one proposal. Here is what happened...”
Day -16 (Badmonky)
→ 20 years earlier ← Honorable CipherPunk, I bring before you the snapshot proposal of the community. ”The DAO hereby proposes to use the entirety of our treasury, at current standing equivalent to 14.3 trillion USD) for the following strategic initiatives which will all enforce the long term vision of our community and ensure a prosperous time for our world.
Day -15 (Badmonky)
It was 01.01.16. The first day of the year sixteen. All the calendars reset the day the new order was voted into power by the DAO. New years celebration are meticulously planned, and executed in precisely the same manner anywhere. The day starts with a big speech blasting through all channels. I am not sure if the speech is given by a human and just scrambled with a voice modifier, or if they already had generative-speeches based. In either case, the general sentiment of the speech was usually the same. “The new order, over everything, over everything in the world, ...”. They tried to put a spin on it to reflect current initiatives. Their attempt to keep the appearance of organic change. But if you worked inside the new orders ranks, even as a dismal little worker like myself, you knew there was no such thing as organic change anymore. The rest of the day unfolded in similar fashions. At regular intervals you were either required to participate in DAO praising activities, or force fed the same propaganda in any way possible.
Day -14 (Nymitzus)
After a measly dinner of rice and potatoes, I laid in bed and tried not to count down the minutes I had left until I had to return to work in the morning. Wednesday evenings were my least favorite. Because, eventually they turned into Thursday mornings. And Thursday mornings meant Priming. And Priming always forced me to come face to face with the fact that I was nothing of the man I thought I would be by the time I was 40.
Day -13 (Badmonky)
Every Thursday it was required for everyone involved in enforcement to show op for priming. Priming was the new orders way of making sure that every enforcer was carrying out their ideas. I was one of those enforcers. My name is Fred, and I am a wardrobe supervisor. My primary tasks involve the distribution of dress-code sheets, and the execution of spot checks to ensure the implementation of said dress code in my assigned area. Most days I don’t even remember the path that led me here, the turns I took to change me from the anarchistic self I once was, into a part of “the man” that I used to despise.
Day -12 (Badmonky)
I remember bits and pieces of a tale my pops once told me. They almost succeeded to eradicate those memories, but some have stuck. The tale was about the early days of the decentralization. The early days of change from what once was primarily a capitalistic society. Back then many people believed in a glorious future based on decentralized decision making powered by predefined rules and voted on by anyone. According to him the early days actually worked very well. Ideals and values prevailed in the new structures that emerged. Its hard for me to believe. Knowing what I know from my lifetime, or at least the parts I remember. These days votes seem to be a tool they use to keep us down, a tool to overwhelm us.
Day -11 (Badmonky)
In theory we all had the ability to change the system if we didn’t like it. But in reality that ship had long sailed. What could my measly 14M tokens change in the thousands of votes that were happening every day with an average participation of 3.8 yotta-votes? Nothing is what. Just like before, most of the power was controlled by a few groups. They say every vote was anonymous, but we all know someone who used to vote more idealistically only to have mysteriously disappeared shortly after.
Day -10 (Nymitzus) Of course, I hated having to enforce the new order; having a hand in helping to oppress the citizens of our region, myself included. The thirteen years it took to move up in this world were filled with self-doubt and loathing. There were times when it hit me harder than others. Some days, I could rationalize that I had to do what I needed to in order to survive. Other days, I felt like I couldn't even be mad if a rogue anarchist tried to assassinate me on my way to work. And sometimes I even hoped for their success.
Day -9 (Badmonky)
pfiieeeeeep... went the kettle in the other room. I was blessed to have two rooms as a single male in todays world. Usually someone like me got only a single room in the buildings which used to be large apartment complexes in the projects. They were all converted to maximum efficiency habitation units. Their resemblance being much closer to chicken coops than apartments. However, working for the new order had small upsides. It took me 13 years of obedience and blind execution of everything I was told, but last year they moved me out of my 8ft x 8ft room into this double room unit. No, there was no kitchen, no bathroom, and not much of anything. There was one room with a bed, and another with a table, a single chair, the kettle and a hole in the wall with a rubber plug, just big enough to urinate into it. I even had to bring in the water for the kettle in bottles I’d fill up outside on the spigot. It has become the highlight of my days to make myself a cup of tea in the evenings to wind down before the monotony started again the next day.
Day -8 (Badmonky)
It’s 5 in the morning as I walk up to the big black brick building on Center Ave. The Uniformist HQ. The place where everyone worked that was in charge of, or tasked with the enforcement of anything that had to do with an individuals “image”. From their clothing to their hairstyles and everything in between. Mainly there were two roles. Appearance architects and wardrobe supervisors. Of course the AAs reported to the higher ups, but I had no idea who they were as a low level wardrobe supervisor. After checking in, I retrieved my stack of sheets to be handed out today. I usually had the same route assigned and liked most of the families on the route. They were good people, and I hated to have to force them into this ridiculous mold, but what choice did I have? The first house was only 5 blocks away from Central Ave. Its the house of the Hagendorfs. Sharon and Marvin Hagendorf and their kids. Approaching the door, I put on a smile and act like everything is juuust peachy.
Day -7 (BlockManiac) As the door rang, I went to check who it was. A cold shower ran down my spine, as this was usually not a good sign. Today it was our assigned wardrobe supervisor with the mandatory dress-code sheet for this month. I thought to myself how ridiculous this was, but didn't even dare to speak it out loud. I knew that Fred was just here to do his job, so I greeted him with a fake smile, trying to make it look as real as I could. I knew him for a long time and he was telling me with a roll of his eyes that he knew how stupid this whole charade was as he handed me the sheet.
Day -6 (Nymitzus)
Every day there seemed to be more rules. How we could behave, how we could dress, who we could speak to. There was nothing in which we had autonomy anymore. I knew there were people struggling. In fact, there probably were very few who weren’t. But we couldn’t even talk about it with one another. The coping tools we used to be able to use would now get us executed or locked away. Whenever I began to feel the pressure of the crushing hopelessness this world was instilling in us, I closed my eyes and remembered the richest memories of my own humanity. Meals with flavors we hadn’t tasted in years, random acts of kindness, the joy of dancing along to live music: these were the things that I had etched into my brain to keep myself sane in a world that no longer made any sense.
Day - 5 (BlockManiac) Today our neighbor shot himself. I didn't even know his name. All I know is, that he lived alone and probably couldn't endure the torture they put us through. The shot woke us up, but we were not allowed to react anyways, so we continued our routine throughout the rest of the day. By the time I got back from work they had all the mess removed and another couple was already living in our neighbors apartment. Their names will remain a mystery too. I am sure of it! Things move so fast, since they took control over our lives.
Day - 4 (Nymitzus) Most days unfolded exactly the same. All the households on our block awoke at 6am to the universal alarm. We ate a breakfast of eggs and toast with our families, dropped the kids at school and then headed to work where we stayed until 5 pm on the dot. We didn’t leave for lunch. School classes ended at 3:30, followed by “Preparedness Training” so that our children had no time unaccounted for. There were no such things as sports or electives, all students received exactly the same education and training and were expected to perform on an equal level at all times.
DAY -3 (Nymitzus) I stepped down from the porch and instinctively touched my breast pocket to make sure my keys were safely inside. Crap. It was empty. Without thinking, I turned on my heel and reached toward the doorknob. A tone sounded in my ear followed by a familiar robotic voice. “Variance detected. Please continue on your route as planned.” Double crap. Everything was supposed to be planned. We were supposed to have been trained by now not to forget things like house keys and setting alarms. We were told that the more times we repeated the same behaviors, the more predictable our lives would become and the safer we would all be. But our humanity couldn’t always be planned. They didn’t understand that mistakes were part of who we are, part of what makes us fallible, mortal humans.
Day - 2 (Nymitzus)
Sometimes I thought the lockdown was for the best. That the powers-that-be were just trying to protect our families and ensure the continuation of our species. But every once in a while I couldn’t help but think of the way it used to be. When we weren’t tracked going to and from work and monitored constantly for indications of treason. When we could talk about the future and the government over dinner without fearing armed soldiers breaking down our door.
Day -1 (Nymitzus)
I sighed as the long line of mini vans curled around the side of the school building, each child taking their turn being ushered from their parent’s car by an eager crossing guard. They went straight from the protection of their legal guardians to the protection of the school’s staff, delivered from their homes to the four walls of the school like delicate and precious artifacts that couldn’t face the elements for fear that they would shatter. Of course, they were precious, but so much had changed in the last two decades it was impossible not to revel in the stark differences of the times.
Day +1 (Nymitzus)
We rode our cruisers the 1.5 miles to the elementary school in the morning, then took our time making our way back home once the final bell rang. Our parents didn’t check in unless we failed to show up at 6:00 on the dot for dinner. Most often, we would ride down to the creek where we would skip stones and make potions with the various organic matter we would find gurgling over the rocks.
Day +2 (Nymitzus)
I still remember the time I missed curfew. I never made that mistake again.
Robbie and I had found a clump of eggs clinging to the side of the creek’s bank. Worried that they would be swept away and we wouldn’t get to watch the tadpoles develop over the coming weeks, we dug in our lunch boxes for the plastic sporks we had saved from the cafeteria and began transporting them several at a time to the deep puddle on the trail through the woods.
We had gotten so wrapped up in making sure all the eggs were safely relocated, that we didn’t notice the streaks of orange that started to paint the sky above the trees. By the time we ambled out of the thick branches and into the artificial light of our neighborhood, only the tiniest tint of yellow remained on the horizon. I could see my mother standing on the porch with a broom in her hand from ten houses away.
DAY +3 (Badmonky) The first time in my life I "got the broom", I remember crying because it hurt so much. I quickly learned however that my ego did not allow myself to give my mom the satisfaction of showing her my pain. Wham... 4765, Wham... 4766, Wham... 4767, ever since that very first time, I have been counting all the strikes. Usually she would stop after about 10 or so, sometimes I got more, sometimes less. Very much dependent on how badly I fucked up in the eyes of my mother. Oh, I am coming up on my 500th fuckup-iversary, that’s nice. I should do something special that day. Maybe I'll get flowers for my mom, and we will celebrate together.
DAY +4 (Badmonky) Thinking back to this time still makes my butt hurt. In the end I was never actually able to celebrate that 500th beating with my mom, before she died when it all started to go south. I know it sounds fucked up. But those are some of the most vivid memories I have of her. Sure she was a massive pain in the ass, but she was my mom after all, and I miss her. Considering how fucked up the world is today, I would take a god spanking that follows my roaming around past curfew, any day of the week.
Day +5 (Nymitzus)
It grew harder to remember what it felt like to be free; to have another human’s hands on you whether in passion or in anger. Eventually, with enough negative reinforcement training, your brain starts to erase the memories that they want it to. I try to remember as much as I can. The feel of the frog eggs as they slipped from my plastic utensil and into my palm. The bristles of the stiff broom across my backside. The way the hairs on my arms stood up when Amy Blackburn’s body brushed up against mine at recess. I could speak none of this out loud. Could share none of who I was before with my wife and children. But our minds were the only places we couldn’t be controlled. Our thoughts were all that remained of humanity as it was. And I wasn’t letting go of mine.
Day +6 (Nymitzus)
Sharon was nice enough. She was certainly beautiful. But hollow. Empty. Several times early on I tried to connect with her, to draw out her humanity, but her training was too strong. She wasn’t like me. She didn’t have memories of the past into which she could escape and find a reminder of who she was. All she knew were the institutions that trained her to be the perfect wife. To obey. She knew she was part human, but she did not know what it truly meant to be human. Which brings me to our children... Our children truly terrified me to my core.
Day +7 (Nymitzus) I woke up thinking about my neighbor. The one who died last week. I didn’t know him well (it was impossible to truly know anyone these days), but ever since those shots rang out, I saw his face in my dreams. Somehow I knew he was 100% human. I could see in his eyes that he could remember the way things used to be, like me. I wondered what must have been going on in his head to get to that point. I wondered how long he had been planning his own death and where the hell he got the gun. Had he kept it tucked away for years out of sight of the drones and monitors? Or had he spent his last day in this world sneaking around and somehow avoiding authority well enough to be able to secure the weapon from outside our region’s borders? It had to be the first. Either his apartment had a hiding place so good that the presence of the gun could not be detected or he was somehow able to operate like a ghost and move around without being seen, which I knew was next to impossible. I wondered what else he could’ve been hiding in that apartment.
Day +8 (Badmonky)
I could not shake the thoughts about our neighbor, the gun, and potential hiding places, and what else might be hidden in them. It got me so curious in fact that I found myself hatching a plan in my head. Half way through the work day a tiny thought started to creep into my mind. “What if there really was a secret hiding place, and could I find it”? I doubt they discovered anything other than the gun he used, or else they wouldn’t have moved new folks into the place so quickly. I couldn’t possibly pursue this thought. Merely thinking it put me in danger. If I accidentally said anything like this out loud, they would definitely have me detained and label me a traitor to the new order. But I need to know. I need to find a way into the house, and I need to find the unfindable.
Day +9 (Badmonky)
Almost a week has passed since I had possibly the most dangerous though of my life. I hoped it would pass, I would just chalk it off as a crazy idea, and banish it from my memory as if it was never thought. Yet, I find myself in the middle of my living room writing my thoughts on toilet paper, drawing schematics of what I thought the house layout may be, scribbling any piece of information I ought to consider. I figured since I cannot shake this crazy idea, I better try to get prepared, think through it as thoroughly as I could by myself before even considering any other moves. The only time to do that was a daily ~20min window between me arriving at home and Sharon coming back with the kids. That’s how long it took her to fetch them from school on her way home. I guess I just found something positive about our meticulously structured days, and routines. It always was exactly a 20min window. Not a minute less, and not a minute more. And I chose toilet paper of course, a rather flimsy kind of paper, since that just may allow me to stand a chance to destroy all the evidence should they come knocking.
Day +10 (Nymitzus)
It occurred to me that I would have better odds of being successful if I didn't have to tackle this all on my own. But no one could be trusted. Not necessarily through any fault of their own, but with all the regulations, monitoring devices, and torture tactics they had a way of getting what they wanted out of people. The only people I was around often enough for more than polite "hello's" were the members of my family. This realization made my stomach turn. Sharon and Jeremy would report to the authorities the moment they suspected anything. But what about Angela? Angela's raging temper and general moodiness indicated to me that she might be the only other person in the household capable of human emotion. But it wouldn't be easy. I would have to play the long game, win her over slowly. But if I wanted an accomplice, she was my only hope. And, of course, there was always time to change my plans or change my mind completely. There was nothing damning about spending time with my own daughter.
Day +11 (Badmonky)
The next morning while we were sitting at breakfast I tried to study my family members without them noticing my unusual behavior. I’d normally just read the paper. Though it had become more of a stare into propaganda filled pages than the consumption of news. News as they once existed were no longer. Today, all publications are put out by them. Sure they call it a newspaper, but can you really call articles such as “Praise your freedom in the DAO” or “We broke free from shackles of a centralized world” news? Hardly! Every word was carefully crafted to further our believe in todays system which imposed the new order. I believe back in the day the people had no idea what dangers these new organizational structures could bring when crypto punks and bored apes paved the way unknowingly for this fucked up remanence of a civilization.
Day +12 (Nymitzus)