Corporate Rebellion

  Somewhere among the things humankind had grown out of, it also lost something: drive, initiative, and the ferocity of purpose that once characterized the human spirit. As the centuries passed, these attributes faded, becoming increasingly undesirable. In a world where productivity was measured by uniformity, those who outworked their peers became pariahs, disruptive forces in an otherwise harmonious system. A worker who pushed past expectations threatened the delicate rhythm of the collective, stirring malice and resentment in those around them. Individual ambition became the antithesis of societal progress.

  The United World Government (U.W.) had long worked to eliminate the chaos of competition. In 3225, the advent of the Uniform Wage System set workers' incomes based on the value of the product or service they provided, their time of service, and the cost of living, with a standard 20% addition. The rat race for riches, a brutal struggle that trampled so many underfoot in earlier centuries, was over. People no longer competed for higher wages or better living conditions; they were provided with everything they needed to survive, and more often than not, everything they desired. Work became less about personal ambition and more about contributing to the collective good.

  But while most of humankind adapted to this new way of life, some did not. The corporations, those sprawling entities that once ruled the global economic landscape, were not so easily tamed. By 3228, the corporate elite had become disillusioned with the U.W.'s restrictions on wealth and power. In an attempt to claw back what they had lost, the world's top 20,000 companies declared rebellion, shutting down operations and refusing to produce anything, threatening to starve the U.W. economy into submission. They thought that by halting all production and ceasing employment, they could force the government to repeal the Uniform Wage Act and restore the old system of wealth accumulation.

  The U.W., however, was in no hurry. Having the support of every worker who was not part of the corporate aristocracy, they simply waited the rebellion out. The world's machinery, once constantly in motion, stood still. Factories fell silent. Transportation systems ground to a halt. Manufacturing ceased entirely. The corporate elite, who had grown accustomed to their lives of luxury, now found themselves dependent on a system that had once served them but now turned against them.

  Meanwhile, the government continued to distribute food to the masses—food produced by the eleven lunar colonies, which did not require assistance from Terra. They distributed this bounty freely to everyone who was not an executive, ensuring that the working class, the middle class, and the destitute had enough to survive. Power, once held by the corporations, was now controlled by the U.W. through fusion energy systems. Communications and healthcare were also in the hands of the government. The only people left to suffer through the rebellion were the corporate officers and their families, who had to buy food and generate their own power like any other citizen. As their vast fortunes were slowly eaten away, they grew desperate.

  But the corporatists were not done. They had one final, spiteful move to make. They infiltrated every commercial computer connected to phone lines or fiber optics, deploying a lethal virus that would erase all memory bytes in just three hours. Their belief was that the virus would cripple the U.W. systems, making it impossible for the government to continue its control. The corporatists, convinced that victory was theirs, sent a communiqué to the U.W. Council, demanding the repeal of the Uniform Wage Act.

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  What they received in return, however, was not a negotiation—it was a declaration of their demise. Alex Dorman, the 37th president of the United World, had only two years left in his twenty-year term, but his resolve was unwavering. He took to the worldwide holovision to announce the council's unanimous decision: corporations, conglomerates, holding companies, and multinational firms would be outlawed. The government had long recognized that companies no longer served the public good. Now, legal entities would be limited to those that provided essential services or products, produced no non-recyclable waste, paid a percentage of their profits to the U.W., and whose net worth could not exceed 70 million credits. Any institutions exceeding this limit would be split into two new firms, each with half of the original capital.

  But that wasn't all. Dorman went further, shutting down the world's stock exchanges, which had been closed since the start of the rebellion. Telephone systems were converted to operator service only. Calls could now only be made to fire departments, hospitals, and government officials. The most surprising move, however, came when the U.W. took control of the electronic credit system. Under emergency code access, the government adjusted all accounts—corporate and personal—to a flat $100,000.00.

  The corporatists, who had spent their careers accumulating immense wealth, were aghast. They couldn't believe what was happening. "He's bluffing," they muttered. "He's lying. He can't do this."

  The next morning, as soon as telephone service was restored, they tried calling their banks, their brokers, their offices. They quickly learned the harsh truth: every account had been reset to $100,000.00. There was no more billions in their accounts. No more lavish mansions, private yachts, or exclusive clubs. They were just like everyone else now. The corporate elite, shocked and confused, struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what had just occurred. For many, it was too much to bear. Some chose suicide rather than face the reality of their newfound mediocrity.

  On the other side of the social spectrum, however, the response was very different. The working poor, the destitute, and the middle class found themselves suddenly lifted from the weight of their poverty. Overnight, their accounts had been filled with $100,000. For many, it was the first time they had ever experienced financial freedom. The furor over this sudden change lasted for months, but the government took action to help the newly empowered. Ex-employees were assisted in taking over and running their former employers' businesses as partners and shareholders. The balance of power had shifted.

  President Dorman’s actions were hailed as a victory for the common people. On July 4th, 3229, the world watched as Dorman held the first baby born after the midnight financial reset. He handed the child an account book with $100,000 credits printed on the first line, symbolizing the new era of equality.

  What about the money left over from the adjustments? The staggering sum of $875 trillion was divided into three sectors: Global Security, Global Healthcare and Education, and the space colonization projects of the United World. The world had changed irrevocably, and the future of humankind was now in the hands of the people, not the corporations.

  As for the corporatists who had caused so much turmoil, they were tried and convicted by the U.W. court for data tampering and sentenced to life among the very people they had once oppressed. Their vast fortunes, once a symbol of their power, had been wiped out, and their legacy would be remembered not as the builders of an empire, but as the architects of their own downfall.

  And thus, the rebellion ended—not with a bang, but with the quiet hum of a new, more egalitarian world. The corporate age had passed, and in its place, a new era of cooperation and shared prosperity began.