Right to Exist

In the year 2047, capitalism had finally achieved its ultimate form. Landlords no longer rented apartments, houses, or even beds. Those were luxuries. Now they owned the very act of existing.

It started innocently enough: a small tax on “public space usage” in overcrowded cities, then someone had the bright idea to monetize the most valuable real estate of all: being alive.

Basic Existence Plans

The government, now fully privatized under the United Corporations of America, partnered with major landlords to introduce Existence Permits. Every citizen was required to pay a Base Rent just to continue occupying space. There are different pricing models.

Basic Model: $999/month – The right to breathe, stand, and move in designated living zones.

Premium Model: $2499/ month – Sitting rights, access to indoor spaces, and limited privacy.

Elite Model: $9999/month – Full movement, private rooms, and the ability to own furniture.

Those who couldn’t even afford the Basic Model had two choices: join the Debt Labor Program (indetured servitude with a 200-year contract) or be sent to the Non-Existence Zone, which was a fenced-off wasteland where the unpaying masses wandered, waiting to starve.

Marcus Caldwell, a former software engineer, had recently been downgraded from “Basic” to “Pre-Expired” Status after missing two payments. A red timer hovered over his citizen ID, counting down the 48 hours until his legal existence would be revoked.

He tried everything: selling his furniture, begged on the Pay-to-Speak app, applied for a breathing subsidy. With ten minutes left, he made a final desperate call to his landlord, Mr. Hendrix, a man who owned over 50 million existence units across the country.

“Please,” Marcus begged. “I just need another week.”

Hendrix sighed. “Look, Mark, I like you, but if I let you slide, what message does that send to my other tenants? Existence isn’t free, my friend.”

“But I’ve lived here for years!”

“Exactly! And every year, your right to live gets more valuable. That’s how markets work.”

The timer hit zero. Marcus felt a strange sensation in his chest. His Existence Lease had been terminated. His biometric ID deactivated. The streetlights dimmed around him. Doors locked automatically. Card refused to recognize him. Even his digital wallet self-destructed, ensuring he could not longer participate in the economy.

Two armored Existence Enforcement Officers appeared, scanning his ID.

“Sir, you are currently occupying space without a valid permit. Please proceed to the Non-Existence Zone immediately.”

Marcus ran, but had nowhere to go. Everywhere had a fee. Sidewalks charged by the step. Air had a metered oxygen tax. His phone flashed its final message before shutting off permanently.

“Your free trial has expired.”

As Marcus disappeared into the wasteland, the landlords met in their executive towers to discuss the next innovation” charging people for memories. After all, why should anyone be allowed to keep experiences they haven’t fully paid for?

The future was bright … for those who could afford it.