crossposted from: https://hexbear.net/post/142449

The original:

Marx places a paternal hand on your shoulder...

You walk out onto the street. People are milling around happily. Buildings are no longer designed with imposing security features. Violence has all but disappeared thanks to sudden material abundance. People are no longer forced to purchase a beverage just to sit down and talk in public spaces. The architecture has been redesigned to be more accommodating for pedestrians. Seating areas seem widely available. People sit and talk among themselves. Even strangers seem capable of breaking into conversation easily.

You feel as if you’ve wandered into a massive public museum, or some other noncommercial public space, but even that analogy doesn’t feel quite right. You realize that you’ve never been to a place quite like this.

You decide to take the train to your old home, but you’re confused as you reach the train station, and find the turnstiles have disappeared. You walk in unobstructed. The screen indicates that your train will arrive shortly. You assume that you’ve arrived just on time, but then you realize that the track has been expanded massively. Automated maglev trains glide silently in and out of the station every thirty seconds. No advertisements are pasted on the station’s walls - these have been replaced with noticeboards informing commuters of gatherings or work opportunities.

Commuters occupy themselves with tablet-style devices, but unlike in the capitalist era, they do not seem to be distracting themselves with facebook or games. Some seem to be reading complex scientific and philosophical treatises. Unburdened by the mind-numbing hours of work, they have the time and energy to expand their minds. Others seem to be watching live-feeds of independently produced entertainment. Total automation has apparently allowed people to spend their time more creatively.

You ask a fellow commuter about recent events. You ask about unemployment. You ask about financial collapse, austerity, the wars in the Middle East, and the possibility of inter-imperial conflict. He smiles wisely, and says, “Those are all things of the past now, comrade.” He speaks with a thick German accent. His snowy-white beard makes him look like a professional Santa Claus. His fashion sense seems anachronistic in this future era. It is then that you realize who he is.

It’s Marx.

You begin to sob as you feel a burden lift from your body. A weight disappears that you didn’t even know was there. Marx places a paternal hand on your shoulder, and as he draws you into a loving embrace, he says, “I told you it was inevitable, comrade.”

The continuation:

You feel his embrace grounding you, as if a rush of all the questions you’ve held for so long has finally met their answer. He pulls back and looks at you with a gentle curiosity, his eyes filled with both intelligence and warmth.

“We’ve done it, then?” you ask, almost whispering, as if afraid that speaking the words too loudly might shatter this vision.

“We have,” he replies with a slight, approving nod. “Not without struggle, and certainly not without sacrifice. But the end of scarcity and the full flowering of human potential were within our grasp. People just needed to reach out.”

You glance around the station again, seeing it now through Marx’s eyes. No longer just a transit hub, it seems more like a crossroads for people seeking knowledge, conversation, and shared experience. You notice a few groups engaged in animated discussions, one of them laughing together in a way that feels more genuine and free than anything you’ve ever seen. There’s a new life here, an energy that seems to flow between people and animate the air.

“But how?” you finally manage, your voice filled with awe. “How did we overcome everything? The resistance, the greed?”

Marx’s gaze turns serious. “It wasn’t easy, comrade. We had to dismantle old systems piece by piece, replace coercion with cooperation, build up trust where division had reigned. The accumulation of knowledge, technology, and most of all, human solidarity, was what allowed us to take the leap.”

He gestures around the station, his hand sweeping over the sleek, quiet trains and the people moving without rush or anxiety. “Automation and abundance were only tools; they didn’t change humanity on their own. What truly transformed society was the realization that every person has worth beyond their productivity, that leisure and creativity were rights, not privileges.”

For a moment, he grows quiet, and his expression softens. “People had to embrace the freedom they’d been denied for so long. Many had never even known it was possible.” He takes a deep breath, and a glint of pride appears in his eyes. “Yet they did, and look at what they’ve built.”

As he speaks, you notice a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes. This realization that the utopia has been achieved doesn’t seem to dull his passion; if anything, it only strengthens it. You can tell he’s proud of what people have achieved but also determined to see it safeguarded.

He looks back at you, and you feel as though he’s seeing into the depths of your own convictions. “Now, comrade, tell me: how will you live in this world?”

The question catches you off-guard. You’d dreamed of a world like this, one where people no longer had to toil merely to survive, but now, faced with the reality, you feel a strange apprehension. Without the old structures of labor and survival, who would you be? What would you do?

“I... I don’t know,” you admit. “All my life, I’ve only known struggle, just... keeping my head above water.”

Marx chuckles warmly. “That’s true for so many, even now. The old world’s echoes still linger in people’s hearts. But now, without the struggle to survive, you can pursue your true passions, your curiosities. You have the freedom to learn, to connect, to create.”

He steps back, gesturing down the platform where new generations of people are waiting for the next train. “Look around. Some are artists, some are thinkers, others work to solve what remains of human suffering. You might find yourself in any of these roles, or in something completely new.”

The train arrives, and as you step inside, you glance back at Marx, his familiar face softened by a smile of encouragement. “Go on, comrade. The future is yours now. Use it wisely.”

As the train begins to move, you feel a strange thrill—not just at what lies ahead, but at the sheer sense of possibility. There are no longer limits on what you can achieve, or how you can contribute. And as you watch Marx disappear into the bustling station, you realize that the journey you’ve just begun is a new chapter, one that will let you discover who you really are and who you can become in this world without scarcity or strife.