.metamorphmagirl
Synopsis
Blaeke Fisher is trapped on a planet that shares when all she wants to do is own something, anything.
After Karl Marx released his manifesto in 1848, the world rebelled against capitalism and was wiped clean. Completely. From then on, communism was in total effect and the world ran in tandem; nationalization of land, technology, consumer goods, and industry being the new norm. Peace had enveloped a war hungry Earth, and the citizens of the planet felt no need to rebel against it.
Until Blaeke discovered otherwise.
Centuries had passed since Karl Marx’s revelations, and the world was now a different place. Blaeke grew up in Sector 5, a small conservative town in the Northern part of the world. However, when fishing drooped, her father uproots the Fisher’s and moves them all to Sector 9, a new and crazy adventure for the comfortable family. It is here where Blaeke explores her greed, her want to own, and her need for friendship. A group of students guide her along the path that rebels against the system, revealing to her the flaws in the communism that had worked so well for so long.
However, after a daunting experience with the Black Market, Blaeke soon realizes that the greed she so long wanted to succumb to would now overcome her, and eventually, ruin everything. Budding romances, friendships to last a lifetime, and discoveries that would turn a girl’s life upside down. Together these things would prove that even on a perfect earth, on A Marxist Earth, unrest would prevail.
*Zemli is the first in a Trilogy
Excerpt
The buildings stretched down the street for ages, each with a different name: PubCaf, PubClothing, PubGrocer’s, and all the Pubs she could possibly dream of. Any public demand was offered on this street, given out free of charge and completely the communist way. Though the idea of having ‘shops’ was ridiculous, having this warped version called Public Services was completely alright. These offered nationalized services to the entire world and let people of the called professions find a productive way to let their talents roam free. Marxists destined to be Designers were given a building to display and give away their creations. Others who were particularly skilled in Baking were given a whole area and group of people to test their discoveries with. It was practically ingenious.
And completely communist.
But this wasn’t what amazed Blaeke; no, it was the people.
They lingered excitedly with one another, pleased to be in one another’s presence so long as they could browse the snacks, the jewelery, the millions of services ready just then. They were almost blissful to spend time being given things, things they needed but could still hold onto and share with the next.
It was the first time she admired the system.
Her walk continued for a while, passing building after building and listing off the different Pubs in her head as she went, when finally she arrived at a destination she actually wanted to be: PubDiner.
The windows were wide and filled half the wall, while the door hid inconspicuously on the left side. Inside, she could see tables with salt and pepper shakers, cutlery on white napkins, and big red chairs pushed underneath them. A long counter wrapped itself around half of the room, and similar to the chairs, red stools were scattered in front of it. However, what she found most interesting - along with the fact that almost every table and stool was in use - was that these customers weren’t like the people littering the streets beside her.
No, these people didn’t speak a word.
In fact, for all she could tell the only mouths moving inside the Pub were those of the waitresses, lingering at tables with coffee pots in hand or order pads at the ready. People from their late teens to their late eighties occupied the counter seats, hogged tables all to themselves, and wiped their hands on their trousers as they exited the lavatories. One of the cooks, a tall boy with curly brown hair, smiled at a customer through his cut out window, saying something she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, catch. They looked distracted, sullen, and all too at home.
And as she watched each of these faces, she thought of only one thing:
She’d call it her Cheery Tree.
