Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

By the twelfth hour since ‘Operation Liberation’ had begun, an obscure post materialized on the Virellan side of the Conclave’s primary social media network. It was a simple video, yet it held a power that transcended the digital realm. Slowly, quietly, it began to gain traction. Then, with a sudden, explosive surge, it went viral. Within two hours, nearly half of all Virellans online had witnessed its contents.

The video itself was barely ten minutes long, but its message struck like a bolt of lightning, shaking every Virellan who watched it to their core. It addressed the greatest shame of their civilization, the open wound of their collective history. And the man in the video, one of their own, offered not just a solution, but a living, undeniable proof of its success.

Miles away, a young Virellan man, no older than nineteen, sat transfixed before his VR console. The video had been forwarded by a friend, whose voice, even through the digital comms, had sounded teary, choked with an emotion the young man couldn’t yet comprehend. He pressed ‘play.’

The image of a stern-faced man filled his vision. “Hello,” the man began, his voice resonant with a quiet, commanding power. “My name is Dreznor. And from my physical appearance, it is obvious I am Virellan, an older one. This makes it highly probable I was enslaved following our war against the Hurai, who, as you know, enslaved the majority of our people.” As he spoke, the backdrop behind him shimmered, displaying a time-lapse of the war’s devastation: cities crumbling, battlefields littered with bodies, and then the chilling, systematic enslavement of countless Virellans.

“I was among them,” Dreznor continued, his gaze unwavering. “Barely a year ago, I attempted to escape. That attempt resulted in the massacre of everyone I held dear, everyone but me, by pirates hired by our new master. This was a punishment for our defiance.” As he spoke, holographic data tags appeared, displaying irrefutable evidence: a digital copy of his former master’s will, its authenticity verified by an unbroken chain of cryptographic marks. Then, footage of the massacre flickered across the screen: the brutal ambush, the desperate fight, the ruthless efficiency of the pirates, and Dreznor’s miraculous survival.

The system had verified every detail. The traditional laws stated that escaping slaves could only be punished if their master still held legal ownership. But their former master had willed their freedom. His successor, however, unwilling to relinquish free assets, had conspired to retain their slave status, falsifying documents, bribing officials. When Dreznor uncovered this, the escape plan that led to the massacre had been his last, desperate hope.

“During my years as a slave,” Dreznor’s voice hardened, “I witnessed atrocities. Rules, purportedly in place to regulate slavery, were shattered daily. I saw slaves in breeding farms, forced to rape each other, to impregnate each other, for the sole purpose of producing more slaves, despite the law clearly stating that children born of slaves were free.” Unfiltered video feeds from various liberated star systems now filled the background: the squalor of breeding farms, the desperate faces, the stark reality of violated laws.

“I saw slaves forced to fight to the death for entertainment, pitting father against son, mother against daughter, their families held hostage to ensure their compliance.” The scene shifted to horrifying footage: gladiatorial pits where slaves tore each other apart, torture chambers where masters commanded new agonies, parents defiled before their children’s eyes. “Many of these acts,” Dreznor emphasized, his voice thick with controlled fury, “were against the very laws the Conclave claimed to uphold. But the owners, the most powerful and influential among their civilizations, simply turned a blind eye.”

“I witnessed slaves used as disposable labor, performing inhumane tasks that robots could do better and safer, simply to save their masters money and the risks that come with robots who record everything.” Images of mangled, crippled slaves flashed by, victims of industrial accidents. “It became clear to any slave who witnessed these broken rules that they were nothing more than a facade. A way for the leaders to pretend they were regulating slavery, a flimsy shield against calls for total abolition.”

He paused, letting the silence and the horror of the images speak for themselves. The rules, he knew, were there to be pointed to, to justify their inaction to their own consciences. They were there so that the privileged could maintain their economic dependence on a brutal system, without having to admit the true cost. Keep us going by reading on MV_LEM_PYR.

“All of these atrocities I witnessed, paired with the massacre of everything I held dear, finally made me promise to use what remained of my life to ensure slavery is abolished in the Conclave,” Dreznor declared, his voice rising, imbued with a powerful, unshakeable conviction. “I will leave no stone unturned until I either die or I accomplish my promise.”

“With that as my goal, I began my mission,” he continued. A fabricated time-lapse of his expedition unfolded behind him, carefully edited to remove any trace of Imperial involvement: his recovery from the massacre, the gathering of his first fleet, the rapid conversion of civilian industries into military production, his initial skirmishes with pirate groups, and finally, the systematic liberation of star system after star system. Each scene showed the punishment of cruel masters and the joyous emancipation of slaves. The powerless of the Conclave, watching across the social media networks, felt a surge of hope, a desperate, exhilarating excitement.

“However, such cosmic shifts are always met with resistance. That resistance comes from the very group that sanctions these behaviors: the Conclave itself. For the past twelve hours, the Conclave has sent a large number of their fleets, attempting to recapture the liberated star systems. They have yet to reclaim even one from my hands. They attempted to do this in secret, hoping to avoid alerting you, the powerless, who would see their actions for what they truly are. But the time for silence has ended.”

Dreznor’s image sharpened, his eyes burning with resolute fire. “I am speaking to you now without pretense, bare, stripped of all guise. My intentions, my goal, are clear: the total emancipation, compensation, and permanent ban of slavery across the Conclave. If the Conclave meets my demands, I promise to lay down arms and return all captured star systems unconditionally. However, should they continue to try and recapture these systems while still permitting slavery… then there is no length I will not go to achieve my goal. If I have to bathe the entirety of the Conclave in blood to achieve it, then so be it. My goal *will* be achieved. One way or another.”

As he spoke, those conditions materialized behind him, projected in stark, bold letters. The background cleared, leaving only those words, every distraction stripped away.

“Until liberation shines upon all slaves!” Dreznor raised both his arms, as if breaking invisible cuffs. The video ended.

The young Virellan man, who had been watching, remained speechless. He had been through the video, witnessed every horrifying, undeniable piece of evidence. His brain struggled to reconcile the sheer scale of Dreznor’s achievements within just over a year. But there was no denying it. He felt it in his bones, a desperate hope that this was real, that this was true. Without a second thought, he immediately forwarded the video to his friends list. Among them, one belonged to a different civilization, effectively circumventing the social media’s civilization-specific bubble. The video jumped, spreading into new networks, gaining virality, attracting more and more eyes, reaching further across the vast, interconnected Conclave.

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