He stood at the shoreline looking into the evening haze. He took out his phone just to look again. Nothing had changed since his encounter in the afternoon. The number was still the same. Just like that all of his dreams had disappeared in a moment. All the hours he had spent honing his craft. All that time he spent in the underground scene hoping that someone with power would see that he was different. It was gone. He had been erased.
That morning he stood at the base of the tallest building in North America. He rode the elevator all the way to the top section of the building, to the 264th floor, nearly a full mile in the sky. His new workplace. Gray Whale, the richest and most prestigious media conglomerate in the world.
As a young boy, it was Gray Whale that was at the cutting edge of innovative media. They had designed the most popular digital worlds. They had a world renown film and art division. They had the best news and independent media team and had conquered the information sector when they failed to adapt to the changing technological landscape. A few in the underground argued they were losing their touch, but the masses ate their content up.
The company owned 3% of the global media blockchain (GMB) and the owners and original creators owned more. In a world that had transcended labor, the media and entertainment industry was the only way to make massive money nowadays. And he was here at the company that started it all during the blockchain revolution twenty years ago.
It was nearly impossible to make it into Gray Whale. Even the children of the high stakers couldn't get in. Sure they could make it into nearly any conglomerate, but Gray Whale wanted only the best. It was unheard of for an independent creator to get in, but there he was, out of place in one of the tallest buildings in the world.
At the reception desk, the AI transmitted a map application to his phone to show him his new work station. He followed the map to a giant room filled with the bright morning light coming through enormous glass windows. The room was filled with other young people working away at their computers.
Once on the computer, the AI told him to commence working on whatever he pleased and informed him of the afternoon meeting for new arrivals. He began working on his article about coming from humble beginnings and making it into the greatest corporation in the world.
As time went on, he noticed something peculiar. Anytime an older member of the team came into the room, all of the creatives would leave their workplace and complement his or her latest work all with their phones at the ready. They would bunch around the coffee table and describe how revolutionary their work was. A few of them came away with happy smiles and others disappointed.
When he asked about this behavior, the others looked at him confused. These older members were some of the original whales during the blockchain revolution and they often gave large upvotes to those who gave the most sincere praise and often ignored the fakers. These people were like gods and they were to be worshipped to earn bonuses and to accrue reputation for promotion.
Although many conglomerates selected individuals based on stake, Gray Whale was different. They selected individuals based on reputation. Reputation was earned through merit rather than inherited from parents who had been active during the revolution. Even the highest stakers had to earn reputation in order to get respect amongst the top creatives. And Gray Whale was no exception.
He sat at his desk troubled. Although he had dedicated his live to garnering the reputation to get into Gray Whale, he never pandered. He simply outworked every creative he had ever come across and pushed his creativity to a level that most people were not used to. He had risen from the underground because he was so much different than his peers. It was being different that got him was he was now.
Once the afternoon came around, the new recruits came into the office of one of the creatives and sat down in front of his desk. The other two recruits were the children of high stakers. You could tell on based on how attentive they were to their own appearance prior to the creative coming in.
Everyone shook the hand of the creative and sat down. Then the two other recruits began praising the latest piece of art from the elder gentleman. The piece of art was hung up on the wall behind the creative. They even got their phones out and gifted the elder gentleman some upvotes for his latest media post with the piece of art. The gentleman made a note to give them a tip after the meeting. The piece of art looked rushed and of low quality.
The gentleman looked at the third creative who had not given him praise and critiqued him for not giving respect to one of the original whales of the conglomerate. But our hero would not give in so easily. He critiqued the whale for demanding praise and critiqued the piece of art for being of low quality. The whale was dumbfounded at the lack of reverence and pulled his phone in front of the trio. At that moment he gave the young man a maximum downvote and told him to leave the building and not return.
So, now he sat at the beachside, listening to the crashing waves. His reputation score was now a negative number worse than even those beginning creatives. He would never be able to get another media job. He would be stuck trying to make pennies off of street curation or simply join the masses making money by consuming the media. He never liked the thought of having to bend to the will of others, but his dreams were shattered and all hope was lost.
His lower reputation and dismissal meant that he was completely off the radar. He was no longer on the upcoming feeds and was even disqualified from some underground feeds. His negative reputation meant that his content was now blocked from his few follower's feeds and they would have to seek him out to see his content. Like they would. Street curation didn't pay well and only those intellectually interested and hard working would ever seek out such a job.
Society had changed after the blockchain revolution. The world was now staked. To be one of the early creatives gave one influence and forced all others to step in line and beg them to spread their wealth. It was them who owned access to the masses. The masses were too lazy to spend hours looking for gems in the underground. They wanted the good stuff fast. And so they got it.
He could have changed the world and injected it with some creativity. But those who own the stake, own the world. Those who don't either pander, disappear, or wait to be erased.
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sure, why not
Follow me and I follow you, I liked your post
https://steemit.com/photography/@marianycr/eating-in-the-street-giant-hamburger
For those that read, this is an example of typical underground banter.
really well written, honestly.
thanks for the compliment, I guess.