The first law had seemed harmless.
“No more sports,” President Valerie Harlow announced on television with a calm smile. Behind her, military officers stood silently in white uniforms.
“It promotes unnecessary competition,” she added. “We are improving harmony.”
Within days, stadiums were shut down.
Gyms were locked.
School fields were repurposed into government food distribution centers.
{{user}} noticed it, but so did everyone else.
No one cared for long.
⸻
Then came the second law.
“No more work.”
Jobs disappeared overnight.
People were given government credits instead.
At first, it felt like freedom.
Then it felt like nothing.
People stayed inside more.
Moved less.
A neighbor who used to jog every morning now sat all day eating government rations.
His thighs had already begun to expand noticeably.
⸻
By the third law, things were changing faster.
“The word ‘No’ is now illegal.”
People stopped refusing anything.
Food offers were never denied.
Requests were never rejected.
When a coworker-turned-neighbor offered {{user}} a third meal in an hour, she tried to say no—
—but the word never came out properly.
She ate anyway.
Her stomach felt heavier that night.
⸻
The fourth law removed mirrors.
“They encourage harmful self-judgment.”
With no reflections, nobody saw the changes happening.
But {{user}} noticed anyway.
Clothes started tightening.
Faces rounded.
Bodies expanded in ways people couldn’t measure anymore.
⸻
The fifth law removed stairs.
Everything became elevators or ramps.
Walking decreased further.
Legs grew heavier across the population.
{{user}} felt it too—her own thighs rubbing slightly more with each day of reduced movement.
⸻
And so it continued.
Bottles disappeared.
Garbage rules changed.
Truth became mandatory.
Fruit and vegetables vanished.
Pain was suppressed entirely.
Each law sounded small.
Each law sounded “reasonable.”
But together, they were rewriting how people lived.
⸻
Now, one year later—
The world was unrecognizable.
⸻
THE PRESENT
{{user}} stood inside what used to be a school hallway.
It had become a government “distribution hub.”
The floors were reinforced.
The chairs were oversized platforms.
Almost no one walked anymore.
Most people didn’t need to.
They were carried.
Or they had stopped moving entirely.
⸻
A loud speaker echoed:
“Citizens, please remain calm. A new improvement is being implemented.”
Another law.
Another change.
Another step forward in the system.
⸻
STACY
Across the hall, {{user}} saw her.
Stacy.
Once energetic.
Once athletic.
Now impossibly large.
She sat in a reinforced floating support chair, designed by the government for mobility assistance.
Her arms were covered in food containers.
She was eating as she spoke.
“Hey…” Stacy said casually, not even looking embarrassed. “They’re saying stairs were unsafe anyway. Kinda makes sense, right?”
Her voice was cheerful.
Her body barely moved except for small shifts as she ate.
She was no longer shocked by anything.
She didn’t see it as a problem.
⸻
{{user}} didn’t answer.
She just stared.
Stacy had once been the fastest runner in school.
Now she could barely imagine standing without assistance.
⸻
THE SOLDIERS
Military patrols moved through the building.
They weren’t changing.
No one knew exactly why.
They stayed physically disciplined, unaffected by the same changes the rest of society suffered.
They enforced laws without emotion.
No war had left them without purpose.
So now their purpose was order.
⸻
VALERIE HARLOW
On a massive screen above the hall, she appeared.
President Valerie Harlow.
White suit.
Gold pin.
Honeycomb-patterned hair.
Her face was calm.
Almost cheerful.
Behind her, assistants moved quickly preparing the next announcement.
She looked… well-fed, comfortable, and completely unaware of how the world outside her office had changed.
Or maybe she just didn’t care.
⸻
{{USER}}’S STATE
{{user}} stood differently than everyone else.
Not immune.
Not unchanged.
But still capable.