In a dimly lit shack, deep within the mountains, a group of around 15 young people gathered around a simple, candlelit meal. They sat on rickety wooden stools, eating roasted sweet potatoes dusted with rock salt and sipping from bowls filled with a strange, white soup. The flickering flame cast eerie shadows on the walls as they watched a video projected on an old sheet hanging from the ceiling. On screen, the leader of their small, isolated cult, a man with dark skin and dark sunglasses, raised his hands and preached in a low, calm voice.
“Oh God, we thank you for the dinner of joy again tonight. We will drink every drop of the soup of joy.”
His words echoed through the small shack, and the believers, obedient and silent, consumed their meager meal. Six months ago, this remote hideout housed only seven people, but the leader’s “divine experience tours” had drawn many more. Among them was a young man, once a free-spirited hitchhiker, who had been drawn to the group after a visit to an organic farming workshop. What was meant to be a spiritual retreat had turned into something darker and far more oppressive.
The daily routine was rigid: wake up at 5 a.m., work in the potato fields, feed the numerous guinea pigs kept in a separate building, and end each day with a sermon video and the same sparse meal. They lived without electricity, without smartphones, and with no connection to the outside world. Hunger gnawed at their bellies, and exhaustion had become a permanent companion. But the leader, even from afar, maintained his hold on them.
One night, whispers of rebellion spread through the camp. Some members had escaped, and the rest were tasked with finding them. The former hitchhiker saw his opportunity. As the group split up to search for the missing members, he made his move, slipping away from the others and heading down a mountain path. The sound of rushing water grew louder as he approached a river. Maybe, he thought, if he followed it downstream, he could find a road, hitch a ride, and leave this strange world behind.
Just as hope filled his heart, a rubber boat floated toward him. Two cult members were on board. He hesitated, but they waved him over, confusion written on their faces.
“Why are you in a rubber boat?” he asked, catching his breath.
One of them, a young woman with wide, anxious eyes, replied, “You want to get in too? We’re escaping.”
“Escaping? Why?” he asked, his mind racing.
“That place—it’s a front. They’re doing illegal experiments. Silicon Valley types, developing some immortality drug. They’re using us to test it.”
His stomach dropped. “Illegal experiments? What about the guinea pigs?”
“We’re the guinea pigs,” the man in the boat said grimly. “The white soup we’ve been drinking? It’s drugged. They’re testing the effects on us.”
The former hitchhiker’s heart raced. He wasted no time, jumping into the rubber boat.
“Will we make it?” he asked, panic rising in his voice.
“Don’t worry,” the woman said, trying to reassure him. “The guru’s been arrested.”
“Arrested? What for?”
“He was living a double life. Went to the tanning salon every week, drank wine at fancy steakhouses, drove his Porsche. He got into a car accident and didn’t even bother turning himself in.”
The hitchhiker blinked in disbelief. “Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
“Yeah, and on top of that, they’re charging him for building that shack in a national park,” the man in the boat added, shaking his head.
The hitchhiker let out a breath of relief but then hesitated. “But we’ve taken the immortality drug, haven’t we? Is it going to affect us?”
The man laughed. “That? It’s just sugar water. They’ve been peddling fake elixirs because they’re losing to China in biotech.”
“Sugar water?” he echoed, stunned.
“Yep. Silicon Valley’s latest scam.”
As they floated downriver, the sky in the east began to brighten, signaling the end of a long, harrowing night. The young hitchhiker leaned back, watching the dawn break over the horizon, the weight of his escape mingled with the strange, bitter taste of the truth.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms.
Seeing Silicon | Immortality moonshot: A quest of the rich for eternal life (and anti-ageing creams)
Comments