Welcome to Agora, an anthology of super short stories set in a world where the public sector is dead. A universe that’s governed, not by ineffective politicians, but faceless corporations.
Read Time: 3 Minutes
The envelope presented itself. Fixed onto the door. Above eye-level, looking down on him. Adam took it in his hands. Glossy. Weighted. Expensive.
There was only one thing inside. Powder blue and beautiful. A pill. Just like the envelope, unmarked.
Adam considered, if only for a few seconds.
What is this? Where did it come from?
These thoughts were quickly replaced by admiration of the capsule’s packaging. Whoever sent this invitation spared no expense.
As a poor soul (spiritually and financially), he yearned for luxury. It was a desperate desire he allowed himself to perseverate over for only moments at a time. Before real-life depression could take over the happiness of his fantasy.
There was a cure though. Only one thing that remedied the feeling of loss caused by these daydreams.
It was to act. Act in a way that anyone could, regardless of their wealth.
With depravity.
As it happens, a depraved cure unfolded right in front of him. Take the pill and live to tell a great story? Or throw it away and surrender to boring, impoverished, self-preservation.
Competitive to the core. In opposition with his super ego, Adam swallowed the capsule. Without water.
Like a man. A big man.
***
Madelyn replayed the video that made her famous. She watched it once a day. To remind herself of what got her the cover of every fashion magazine in the Agora.
The only problem with it? The fidelity. After all, it happened five years ago. 8K. Pixelated and grainy by modern standards.
The video itself was like a student-film, shot in a post-modern, avant-garde style. Seizing the ethereal beauty of someone’s last breath.
It starts with a tracking shot. The back of a man’s head. Her husband. Camera walking closer...and closer. He’s looking out into a pavilion. We see the quick ruffling of leaves in the periphery.
A hand creeps into frame, and with a forceful push, the man falls into the scaled-down-jungle-scape.
The tigers appear almost instantly. It doesn’t take long for them to pounce.
Flesh. Blood. Screams.
Madelyn laughs. Heckling her spouse like a drunk fan at a football game.
This wasn’t the first death caught on live-stream. But it was the most famous.
A cocktail of luck, timing, and an algorithm launched this video onto the feeds of millions in a matter of minutes. Capturing the hearts of consumers everywhere.
In the last five years, brands have used it as a case-study in making viral content. Studying the tension, themes, and even the thrilling exposure of violence.
Parodies have been made. Documentaries. Photoshoots. Interviews. Sponsorships. Book deals. Merchandise. Experiential events. You name it.
The video broke records on impressions — so much so that Madelyn became less felon, and more fashion icon.
No doubt, there were hordes of people opposed to the Queen of The Jungle. Those who, for moral reasons, demanded Madelyn pay for her crime.
Unfortunately for them, that would never happen.
Agora uses arbitration to settle all matters criminal and civil. Since there was nobody alive to arbitrate with, the lawyers just let the case go. Fall away — like a man moments before being torn to pieces.
Knock. Knock.
Someone at the door. Madelyn’s nostalgia ride cut short.
Who would visit this early?
She reluctantly answered it to find a boy. Well, a man really. But it felt terribly wrong to call him that. Slender. Comb-over. Porcelain angel.
“Hi miss.” He said, eyes on the ground.
“What do you want?”
“My name is Theo. And I have an opportunity.”
***
Madelyn never habitualized the nicety of offering drinks to guests. Her maid Matilda wouldn’t arrive for another hour. So they both sat. Nothing to cheers with.
Nobody would call Theo a force of nature. He had the presence of a flower. Swaying softly to the currents of whatever conversation he found himself in. But his power came from his persistence. A flower you’d die from exhaustion before being able to uproot.
And so, here he was. A junior producer speaking to one of The Agora’s most famous celebrities. In the room through sheer will, a little manipulation, and a lot of flattery.
“It’s called Queen of the Jungle. A reality show – where you get to choose --”
“My king? I’ve done reality television --”
“Not like this.”
***
“You are one in ten-thousand, you know that Adam?”
Theo sat comfortably on Adam’s couch. A beer in hand.
“I mean that literally,” the producer continued. “We sent that envelope to 10,000 people, and you were the only one who took the pill.”
“What was it?” Adam asked. An increasing anxiety in his voice.
“A test.”
This amused Adam. If taking drugs were tests, he’d have done a lot better at Charter.
The producer downed the rest of his beer, and gently placed a stack of documents on the table. Tapping them with two fingers.
“I’m developing a show. Reality TV. It’s called Queen of the Jungle. Ten suitors compete with each other to win the heart of Madelyn Fang. We’d love you to be one of those suitors.”
Adam laughed. He hated reality television, but knew it’d be an instant classic.
“What’s the catch?”
“We needed a hook to make this series pop. To get the advertisers excited. I’ll just be blunt with you. Out of the ten suitors — only one makes it out alive.”
Adam processed this. That was radical, even by the non-existent standards of Bean Entertainment™️.
“You need sacrifices.” Adam said.
“We need gladiators.”
Theo handed him the paper. One little signature.
Again Adam thought:
Live to tell a great story? Or throw it away and surrender to boring, impoverished, self-preservation.