Though a work of fiction, this story draws inspiration from surveillance technologies that pervade our world today. If left unchecked, the scenario painted within this first chapter could become a hauntingly accurate reflection of life in the not-so-distant future. This book aims to shed light on the truth behind the tale, unearthing the grand designs to bring such a reality into existence—even in places like the United States. More importantly, the bulk of this book seeks to equip you with the knowledge and tools necessary to combat this burgeoning tyranny. The time to act is now; the power to change the course of our future lies within our grasp.
The Price of Submission
It took barely a decade for the world they knew to crumble. After a series of planned economic crises and the rise of authoritarian regimes, the world saw the widespread adoption of social credit systems and central bank digital currencies (CBDCs). By 2032, New York City, once bustling with life and energy, had been transformed into a dystopian nightmare. The United States, previously a symbol of freedom and democracy, had succumbed to digital tyranny. Despair and hopelessness filled the city, with the relentless onslaught of propaganda on the airwaves and the constant hum of drones overhead, casting dark, oppressive shadows on the streets below.
Surveillance had become a way of life, with security cameras on every street, face scanners in every building, and tracking built into every mobile device. The very idea of privacy had been erased, supplanted by the unrelenting gaze of the government, now capable of monitoring, controlling, and manipulating citizens’ lives with chilling precision.
In this grim reality, the universal basic income concept (UBI) had been twisted into a means of subjugation. Although everyone received UBI, the amount depended on an individual’s social credit score. High scores granted a comfortable lifestyle, while low scores condemned people to destitution. Society had devolved into a ruthless game of paranoia, compliance, and survival.
Healthcare access was strictly controlled, and people could be required to justify their presence or whereabouts at any time. Vaccine passports were not only mandatory but weaponized to control access to public spaces, transportation, and some jobs.
The social credit system ensnared entire families, with the scores of each member affecting every aspect of their lives. Those with low scores found themselves trapped in substandard housing, with limited transportation options and inadequate healthcare.
Amid the suffocating atmosphere of this dystopian society, the Johnson family struggled to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Jason and Kristin, college sweethearts who had once envisioned a bright future together, were now the doting parents of Wyatt, a curious and artistic teenager, and Emily, their fiercely determined and kind-hearted college-aged daughter. They shared a modest pod in one of the numerous towering skyscrapers that defined the city’s skyline, a stark reminder of the oppressive world they now inhabited.
Jason and Kristin bore the weight of knowing a time before the Bureau of Global Nations (BGN) centralized and controlled every aspect of life. They shared stories with Wyatt and Emily of a freer past, recounting cherished memories of family picnics in Central Park and laughter-filled movie nights, hoping to instill in their children the value of the liberties they had lost and the importance of striving for a better future.
The allocation of living spaces within these massive structures strictly adhered to the hierarchy imposed by social credit scores. As a result, the Johnsons, like countless others, lived in perpetual fear of the relentless surveillance that scrutinized their every move. They understood that any deviation from the BGN’s stringent rules could upend their lives, threatening their home, access to education, and even their freedom.
Navigating this harrowing world, the Johnson family found solace in their love for one another. They clung to the hope that their bond would shield their children from the insidious forces, both human and systemic, seeking to rob them of their privacy, liberty, and dignity. Unbeknownst to them, a single careless act would set off a series of tragic events, threatening not only their already precarious standing within society but also the very fabric of their family’s unity.
One evening, the family gathered in the cramped living quarters of their pod for their usual dinner ritual. Jason’s face was drawn, and the tension in the room was palpable.
“Jason, is everything alright?” Kristin asked, noticing her husband’s unusual behavior.
“I…I don’t know. I shared an article on the CryptoForAll forum, criticizing the government’s new more stringent restrictions and punishments for possessing illegal cryptocurrencies,” Jason admitted, hesitating.
“You did what?!” Kristin gasped. “You know how dangerous that is! Even talking about it at home is dangerous. If anyone finds out, it could destroy our social credit scores!”
“I know,” Jason said, his voice low. “But I couldn’t stand by while they strip us of our last remaining freedoms. I had to do something.”
Wyatt chimed in, “But Dad, it’s not just about you. Your actions affect all of us. Now, we’re all in danger.”
“I understand, Wyatt,” Jason said solemnly. “But I couldn’t stay silent.”
The weeks that followed were a downward spiral for the family. Emily, attending college, unwittingly used an incorrect pronoun when addressing one of her professors during a group discussion. The incident, caught on camera by the ever-present surveillance system, was immediately reported to the university’s administration and to the government’s Bureau.
The Bureau, zealous in enforcing its stringent regulations, imposed penalties on Emily and her family. As a result, their social credit scores plummeted even further, exacerbating their precarious situation. Emily was mandated to attend sensitivity training sessions and faced heightened scrutiny from her peers and faculty. The once-promising college experience she had hoped for turned into a suffocating environment where every interaction felt like walking on eggshells.
The final straw came when Kristin, in an attempt to make ends meet, sold some personal items on eBay to cover their basic needs. She managed to make $700 from the sales, which she hoped would help alleviate some of the family’s financial burdens. However, Kristin failed to report the income to the government as required by the stringent financial regulations.
The government’s ever-watchful eye, aided by powerful algorithms tracking financial transactions, flagged the discrepancy in Kristin’s reporting. Within days, officials arrived at the Johnsons’ doorstep, presenting them with a notice of violation. The family was hit with a devastating penalty – not only did they have to pay back the unreported amount but also faced a hefty fine, further plunging them into debt.
Their social credit scores took yet another hit, making it even harder for them to access essential services, find better housing, or secure loans. The incident also put Kristin’s various jobs in jeopardy, as her employers became wary of associating with someone who had run afoul of the government’s regulations.
In the aftermath of this crushing blow, the Johnson family felt the weight of the surveillance state more heavily than ever before. Their dreams of a better future seemed to crumble before their eyes, as they struggled to navigate the complex web of rules and regulations imposed by the omnipotent government Bureau.
“Jason, what are we going to do?” Kristin asked, tears streaming down her face. “Our social credit scores are so low, we’ll lose everything.”
“I…I don’t know,” Jason replied, his voice barely audible. “But we’ll find a way. We have to.”
The family huddled together, holding on to one another for support as they faced the grim reality of their situation. Little did they know, the worst was yet to come.
As the family’s social credit scores continued to plummet, they faced increasingly severe consequences. They were no longer eligible for their pod’s amenities, their access to high-speed transportation was restricted, their Wi-Fi slowed, their healthcare coverage was downgraded, and they faced public humiliation as their credit scores and reasons for their decline were shared throughout their community on social media.
One evening, Wyatt returned home from school, visibly upset. “Dad, some kids at school were bullying me today because of our low social credit scores. They called us “hoodlums” and said we don’t deserve to live in the city. Even my friends avoid being around me because they don’t want to be associated with someone who is blacklisted.”
With deep empathy, Jason enveloped his son in a warm embrace and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Wyatt. People can be heartless, but we must never allow their venomous words to shape our identity or diminish our worth.”
Meanwhile, Emily’s college education was in jeopardy. Her scholarships were revoked due to the family’s social credit score, and she was struggling to keep up with her studies while searching for a job to pay for college. Her degree at the university was fully paid for by a scholarship based on the family’s high social credit score. The drastic collapse in the score left her responsible for the tuition or face expulsion within weeks.
“Dad, I don’t know if I can continue going to college,” Emily confessed one day. “I’m so far behind, and I can’t afford tuition anymore. I’ve applied for several jobs that seemed promising but have met with nothing but rejection. One HR representative bluntly told me that they simply couldn’t trust anyone with a social credit score as low as mine. I literally was scorned for having the audacity to even apply for the job . . . it turns out that if a company has even one employee with a credit score below 600, they are ineligible for any government contracts and must pay all sorts of extra fees and carry extra insurance.”
“We’ll find a way, Em,” Jason reassured her. “We’re not giving up.”
As the pressure mounted, the family’s relationships began to fracture. Jason and Kristin argued late into the night, their voices barely muffled by the thin walls of their new, smaller cramped pod. The once-happy family was slowly being torn apart by the unforgiving social credit system.
One day, Jason made a life-altering decision. “Kristin, I’ve been doing some research,” he said, his voice trembling. “There’s a program called MAID (Medical Assistance in Dying). It’s…euthanasia. If I go through with it, your social credit scores will improve, and you and the kids will have a chance at a better life. It could take several years to get your scores higher, but with my score gone, you and the kids stand a chance. With my score, there is just no possible way to dig ourselves out.”
“No, Jason, you can’t!” Kristin sobbed, clutching her husband tightly. “There has to be another way. We’ll find it, together.” Jason replied flatly, “I went over the numbers with the public accountant at the town hall . . . my death would make you eligible for around $85,000 as a single mother of two children and will boost your social credit score by 100 points . . .that should help you dig out of this mess and get back on track . . . and if I let them give me some experimental medications to stop my heart, you will get even more money and an extra 50 points.”
Jason had already made up his mind. “I love you, Kristin, but this is the only way I can see to save our family.”
The family, heartbroken and defeated, gathered one last time before Jason’s appointment with the MAID program. They held each other close, tears streaming down their faces, knowing that their lives would never be the same.
As Jason prepared to undergo the MAID program, his heart was heavy with the weight of his decision, but he knew that it was the only way he could save his family. He spent his final days with Kristin, Emily, and Wyatt, trying to create cherished memories that would sustain them in the difficult times to come.
On the day of the procedure, the family gathered in a sterile, cold room at the clinic, the walls painted with an impersonal shade of gray. Jason held Kristin’s hand tightly, his eyes welling up with tears. “I love you,” he whispered, as he tried to etch the image of her face into his mind. Kristin sobbed uncontrollably, unable to imagine a life without her husband by her side.
Emily and Wyatt stood by their hearts aching and their minds unable to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. They clung to each other for support, their tears streaming down their cheeks as they watched their father prepare to make the ultimate sacrifice.
As the medical staff began to administer the life-ending drugs, Jason’s body tensed, his breathing labored. He looked at his family one last time, his eyes brimming with love, pride, and sorrow. The room was filled with the overwhelming sadness and grief of a family being torn apart by the cold, unfeeling grasp of the Bureau’s CBDC and social credit system.
As Jason’s heart slowed to a stop, Kristin, Emily, and Wyatt crumpled to the floor, their cries echoing through the empty halls of the clinic. In that moment, they truly understood the cost of living under the oppressive thumb of the Bureau – the price of their freedom, the life of a loving husband and father.
As the first glimmer of dawn broke through the darkness, Jason’s sacrifice brought a flicker of hope to his family, their social credit scores rising like a phoenix from the ashes. Yet, emotional turmoil and a chain of heart-wrenching events shrouded this fleeting improvement, leaving Kristin, Emily, and Wyatt to traverse the labyrinth of their fractured lives, grappling with the void left by a beloved husband and father.
Bearing the weight of financial responsibility, Kristin balanced a plethora of jobs, exhaustion an ever-present specter. Moments, once cherished with her children, now evaporated like the morning dew. Still, her indomitable spirit shone through, leaving handwritten notes of love and encouragement for Emily and Wyatt each day.
“Stay strong, Em. Your father would be so proud,” Kristin’s note read one morning. Emily, burdened by the chasm her father’s absence left and the relentless demands of her studies and new job, withdrew into a world of isolation. Her once-vibrant spirit, a tapestry of dreams and ambition, became ensnared in a void of emptiness. In rare moments, Emily found solace with her childhood friend, Jenna.
“Em, I know it’s hard, but you can’t let this break you,” Jenna implored, her words a lifeline to Emily’s drowning soul.
Wyatt’s torment at school persisted despite the family’s improved social credit scores. Relentless bullying drove him into the deceptive embrace of prescription painkillers, an addiction that spiraled into a whirlpool of despair. Neighbors’ hushed whispers pierced the air, their once-welcoming smiles now frigid masks of indifference.
In a haze of intoxication, fate struck a cruel blow as Wyatt died in a tragic accident. The news spread like wildfire, further isolating the family within their tight-knit community.
As dark clouds gathered on the horizon, Emily confronted the debilitating side effects of a newly mandated vaccine. Despite the crippling consequences, she dutifully received her monthly boosters. A novel vaccine, designed to combat adult acne, unleashed a tempest of suffering within 48 hours of administration. Emily’s health deteriorated with alarming speed, rendering her a prisoner within the claustrophobic confines of their 200-square-foot pod.
Their social credit scores, once ascendant, plummeted in response to Emily’s collapsing GPA and Kristin’s public denunciation of the vaccine. The family found themselves exiled to a smaller, suffocating pod—a constant reminder of the iron grip the government Bureau exerted over their lives.
Kristin’s once-unyielding resolve began to tremble like a flickering flame. She found herself questioning the path she had chosen and the society that seemed bent on their destruction.
“Is this the world we fought so hard for, Jason?” Kristin whispered; her words lost in the shadows.
Still, she clung to hope, researching alternative treatments for Emily, and contacting advocacy groups for support. One evening, as Kristin sat with Emily in their dimly lit pod, she held her daughter’s hand and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Em. I wish there was more I could do for you.”
In that moment, a notification chimed on Kristin’s phone—an email from a support group, offering guidance and resources to help them fight back against the oppressive system. With renewed determination, she decided they would not yield to despair.
“We will rise above this, Em. Together, we’ll make a change,” Kristin vowed, her voice a beacon of hope in the darkness.
Emily, her face pale and drawn, offered a weak smile. “Maybe you could find those herbs you told me about that helped grandpa when he got sick? I know that it is illegal to grow anything, but just maybe they can help me.” Kristin hesitated “Em, I have already asked everyone I thought I could trust about getting them, but the Bureau is tightening the penalties, and no one wants to get involved.”
“Mom, how did it ever get like this? How could people just let them take everything they had away? Your first home with a yard? Your freedom to travel to visit friends? I remember you telling me stories when I was a little girl about growing real strawberries and watermelon…” Emily’s voice trailed as she drifted off, exhausted from the weight of it all.
Kristin lamented the past possibilities, broken dreams, and the stark future realities – “If only I could turn back time and have made the harder choices, we wouldn’t be victims of this system.”
In the throes of their struggle, the family grappled with the inescapable grip of the omnipotent Bureau, CBDC, and social credit system. Gazing into the vast, uncertain abyss of their future, they clung tenaciously to the merest whisper of hope—hope that, against all odds, a brighter tomorrow awaited them. In the darkest corners of their minds, the thought of MAID lingered as a haunting reminder of the lengths they might have to go to break free from their shackles.
The haunting tale woven within these pages, echoing the dystopian visions of Black Mirror and the literary masterpieces of George Orwell and Aldous Huxley, serves a dire purpose: to confront you with a stark choice between rising against the encroaching surveillance state for a brighter future or succumbing to the inescapable grip of tyranny. Every element of this narrative springs from today’s unsettling realities, from China’s social credit system to New York City’s pronoun laws and Canada’s MAID program. Governments are ceaselessly striving to mold a future where surveillance and centralized control reign supreme.
This is not a far-flung sci-fi fantasy; it is a looming possibility. This book aims to sound the alarm, educating you about the existing technologies and the political ambitions driving their implementation. Halting this relentless march demands awareness and decisive action. The time for complacency or the belief that “this could never happen in America” has long passed.
In the chapters that follow, you will discover that the technologies and systems discussed are not mere concepts but are already being trialed and adopted in the United States. At the heart of this dystopian nightmare lies the Central Bank Digital Currency (CBDC), which empowers governments to manipulate behavior through social credit scores, vaccine passports, and more by leveraging digital, programmable, and censorable money. Stopping CBDCs can thwart everything else.
The solution is clear, though not as simplistic as casting a vote. Members of Congress, who draw power from their monopolistic control of currency, are unlikely to vote for a reduction in their control or authority. The true power resides with the people.
By divesting from unstable fiat currencies (currencies backed by nothing but trust in the governments that issue them to repay their debts) and embracing self-custody cryptocurrency, gold, or silver, we can prevent the implementation of CBDCs and safeguard our liberties. In this book, we will show you how to do all of this and take control of your own financial freedom.
Time is of the essence; we have less than 12 months to act.
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