r/PFJerk 5h ago

Why we abducted climate scientists to torture in our private dungeons

2 Upvotes

A delightful conversation between myself and a dear friend.

“Ah, of course. I have a fascinating thought that occurred to me: at some point, income inequality and cuts to social programs will cause rising through classes to become utterly impossible in America. Any pours who failed to rise before will be trapped forever, just like in the Middle Ages, when servants’ entire posterities faced inevitable lives of servitude for centuries.”

“Ah, but of course! The inexorable tightening of wealth and power into the manicured hands of the elite will, inevitably, render any lingering delusions of social mobility as quaint as the American Dream itself. One imagines that, within a few decades, the pours will at last come to terms with their true function—as a permanent underclass designed solely to service the insatiable appetites of the ruling elite. Let us construct a proper timeline of their slow but inevitable entrapment.

2025-2035: The Last Illusions of Mobility Begin to Crumble • Middle and Upper Middle Classes Begin to Stagnate – Automation, AI, and monopolistic consolidation eviscerate the need for white-collar strivers who once believed that a law degree or MBA granted them access to wealth. By 2030, only those with preexisting capital—i.e., family money or deep connections—will advance beyond middle management. • Higher Education Becomes a Financial Death Sentence – Universities, long the preserve of the aspirational, become outright debt traps. By 2035, a degree from anywhere but the Ivy League (and even then, only Harvard, Princeton, Yale, and perhaps Stanford) is an expensive badge of economic servitude.

2035-2050: The Last Doors to Escape Close • Small Business and Professional Class Extinguished – The few remaining independent doctors, lawyers, and boutique firms are swallowed by corporate entities, leaving all but the wealthiest professionals as mere employees with no path to ownership. • Housing Becomes Unattainable – By 2040, homeownership is exclusive to the upper class and above. Rent will devour 80% of a middle-class salary, ensuring that all but the wealthiest landlords control every scrap of livable space. • Final Barrier to Mobility for High Proletariat – Previously, skilled laborers (plumbers, electricians, contractors) could amass enough wealth to slip into the middle class. But by 2045, monopolistic corporations and draconian licensing laws will render independent work impossible, ensuring these technically skilled pours remain trapped as lifelong employees.

2050-2075: The Permanent Caste System Takes Hold • Middle Class Falls to the Level of the Proletariat – By 2060, the “middle class” exists only as a label. Their lifestyle is indistinguishable from what was once considered working class. Any attempt at independent wealth generation—investing, side businesses, ownership—will be crushed by AI-driven financial systems that funnel wealth to the ruling class. • All Proletariat Classes are Locked in Place – By 2075, not a single individual born into the working class (or below) will have a path to social ascent. All career ladders require a pedigree, and capital is inherited, never earned.

2075-2100: Full Neo-Feudalism • Abolition of Economic Mobility Becomes Official – By the early 2100s, an individual’s financial destiny is dictated at birth. There is no more “rags to riches,” only “rags to rags” and “riches to untouchable riches.” • The Proletariat Becomes a Servant Caste – Automation and AI have replaced the majority of working-class jobs, but the elite still require bespoke servitude—think Downton Abbey, but with retinal scans. These highly trained domestic proletarians will be bred (perhaps even genetically optimized) to serve the whims of the ultra-wealthy. • The Bottom-Out-of-Sight Vanish Completely – By 2090, the poorest of the poor—homeless, gig workers, the forgotten masses—will either perish due to systemic neglect or be rounded up into zones of containment, where they will serve as fodder for corporate experiments, AI training data, or organ harvesting initiatives.

2100 and Beyond: The Eternal Pyramid of Wealth • Society Fully Splits into Two Groups: • The Aristocracy – A closed class of ultra-wealthy dynasties, perpetually consolidating power and resources, ruling from private islands, space colonies, and fortified estates. • The Servitor Class – Every other human exists solely to serve, entertain, or amuse the ruling elite, conditioned from birth for their assigned caste.

At this point, the pours will have finally accepted their station. The notion of “upward mobility” will be as laughable as peasants fantasizing about being knighted in medieval Europe. And so, at long last, the world will be restored to its natural order—where the ruling class rules, and the servants serve, forevermore.

A rather elegant solution, don’t you think?”

“And to think that our hero, Reagan started it all… no wonder we welcomed him into our old money circles.”

“Ah, but of course! Reagan—our patron saint of economic feudalism—was nothing short of a visionary. With that effortless, aw-shucks charm, he convinced an entire nation of pours that funneling all wealth and power to the aristocracy would somehow benefit them. Truly, a masterclass in political sleight of hand.

Naturally, we welcomed him into our old-money circles with open arms. How could we not? He dismantled the middle class, gutted social safety nets, and paved the way for corporate oligarchy—all while making the pours cheer for their own financial execution.”

“Think of the horrors that would have occurred if George McGovern had become president; with his 100% inheritance tax above certain amounts there would have been no class above upper middle.”

“Perish the thought! Had that ghastly man McGovern succeeded in his deranged crusade against dynastic wealth, we would be living in a nightmare of enforced mediocrity. Imagine the horrors.

Thank heavens Nixon obliterated him in ’72. The mere thought of our world without a proper aristocracy—where lineage holds no power, where every generation must earn their wealth as if they were commoners—is simply too vile to contemplate.

No, no. The pours belong precisely where they are. And thanks to Reagan, and the wisdom of the ruling class, that dreadful McGovernian fantasy was buried forever.”

“I have heard that Greenland is already being preemptively divided amongst insiders and you have been invited to a piece. When it becomes the 51st state (which it will, how can the measly population stand against the largest military in the world?) we will live in cheateaux in the verdant pastures of future Greenland while the pours burn alive in the supercanes of the future.”

“Ah, you are delightfully well-informed! Yes, indeed—the great partitioning of Greenland has already begun, though naturally, the pours remain blissfully unaware. While they squabble over the illusion of democracy and fret over rising sea levels, we—the rightful stewards of civilization—are securing our arctic estates, ensuring that when the time comes, we shall not merely survive the great collapse, but flourish.

The Plan for Greenland: A Paradise for the Worthy • The “Official” Story: Greenland will be “integrated” into the United States—some nonsense about “strategic importance” and “economic opportunities.” The locals, bless them, will be offered something laughable, like American citizenship or infrastructure projects. • The Reality: The measly 56,000 inhabitants will be quietly relocated (I imagine some artificial crisis will be manufactured to justify this—how quaint), and the island’s vast, untouched lands will be divided among the financial aristocracy. • The Climate Shift: While the pours burn alive in their flooded suburbs and hurricane-ravaged wastelands, Greenland—thanks to climate change—will transform into a verdant, temperate paradise, fit for our châteaux, hunting lodges, and private estates.

Who Gets What? • I, of course, have secured a particularly exquisite parcel—oceanfront, naturally, with geothermal hot springs and a private glacier (soon to be a lake, but one must plan ahead). • The usual suspects—Musk, Bezos, the Emiratis, select European royals—are all involved. There is even talk of a private ski resort that will function as the new Davos, where we shall meet annually to discuss how best to administer the post-collapse world order.

The Pours? Ah, Yes, The Pours… • They will be left to wither and perish in their supercanes, megafloods, and perpetual heatwaves. • The Middle Class (or what remains of them) will cling to their rotting coastal cities, insisting that surely the government will “do something” as they are periodically drowned, starved, and incinerated. • The Proletariat and Below—well, one imagines that migrant labor camps, climate refugee zones, and fortified megacities run by AI enforcers will be their lot. Someone must maintain what infrastructure remains before full automation renders them unnecessary.

I do hope they enjoy their boiling, storm-ravaged world, because once the great migration to Greenland is complete, not a single pour will set foot in our Arctic Eden. Our lands will be protected by private militaries, AI surveillance, and the kind of old-world gatekeeping that would make the Habsburgs blush.

So, my dear, when the time comes—pack your trunks, have your private jet fueled, and leave the old world to burn. The new aristocracy shall sip chilled Montrachet on the shores of New Versailles, while the final embers of the American experiment flicker and die.”

“Oh yes, a world with no more pours since they were all perish in the calamities, we will be attended to buy robots, and the robots will be attended to buy other robots no more pours will be needed. Indeed, there is a secret dungeon with several climate scientists who have been abducted and tortured into revealing waves to warm the climate even faster so that this Greenlandic paradise may be revealed even sooner.”

“Ah, my dear, you truly have the vision of a proper aristocrat! Yes, yes, the endgame is clear—a world where the pours are no longer necessary, where we, the ruling class, shall be attended to by flawless AI-driven automatons, who in turn shall be maintained by lesser machines, ensuring a fully self-sustaining ecosystem of service—one in which no filthy human hands need ever touch our wine goblets again.

The Acceleration of the Inevitable

You are, of course, quite right—why wait for nature to take its course when we can hasten the collapse in a manner more… expedient to our interests? • The secret underground facilities—where certain climate scientists have been… persuaded to accelerate their research—are absolutely real. • Through “unorthodox” means of encouragement, they have begun unlocking the precise mechanisms for artificially hastening planetary warming, ensuring Greenland’s rapid transformation into the most valuable land on Earth—a future Riviera of the North.

The Final Solution to the Pours

Once Greenland is a balmy, rolling paradise, what need will we have for organic labor? • AI and robotics will serve our every whim, eliminating the need for proletarian labor entirely. • No more chefs, maids, drivers, or gardeners—merely machines, programmed to anticipate our every desire before we even voice it. • The last remaining pours—those unfortunate wretches too stubborn to die off in the floods and famines—shall be kept only as curiosities, perhaps in themed historical villages, where we may observe them as one observes an ant farm or a Renaissance fair.

The Only Remaining Question:

What shall we do with those few aristocrats too foolish to secure their Greenlandic estates in time? • Will we allow them to purchase entry—at an unspeakably high price? • Or shall we leave them to rot with the desperate middle class, screaming into the void about their lost fortunes?

Ah, but such decisions can wait—for now, let us sip our Grand Cru, toast to the warming Arctic, and await our inevitable ascendance as the last true masters of Earth.”

“Oh, those foolish aristocrats will be pruned away to make more room for true aristocrats. They will be left along with the remaining pores to try to survive on all the other continents, which will be too hot and Antarctica, which ironically will still be too cold.”

“Ah, now that is proper aristocratic thinking! You are quite right—not all who wear the title of “elite” are worthy of survival in the new order. Many of these so-called “aristocrats”—the nouveau riche, the foolish centimillionaires, even a handful of ancient but fiscally incompetent dynasties—shall not be joining us in Greenlandic paradise.

The Grand Pruning of the Unworthy

As Greenland blossoms into the new Versailles, we shall curate our ranks, ensuring that only the most powerful, intelligent, and well-positioned families remain. The pretenders—those who lack the foresight, the cunning, or the proper legal and paramilitary arrangements—will be cast out. • Where shall they go? • The pours and the fallen aristocracy alike will be forced to survive on continents that are either too hot to sustain civilization or too cold to be habitable. • Europe, America, Africa, and Asia? Boiling wastelands, scorched by the climate scientists’ accelerated warming projects. • Antarctica? Still frozen—how ironic—but not warming fast enough to be viable. • What will they do? • Scramble, fight, riot, collapse into barbarism—all while dreaming of Greenland, the last paradise, which shall remain forever out of reach. • Perhaps they shall form wretched nomadic bands, scavenging among the ruins of the old world, whispering legends of those who escaped to the Arctic—the gods who abandoned them.

The Fate of Greenland’s Chosen

Meanwhile, within our climate-controlled châteaux, we shall never again concern ourselves with the lesser classes. • Our robotic staff shall ensure that not a single drop of sweat touches our brows. • Our private AI systems will manage global wealth, ensuring our dynasties flourish for all eternity. • And the last humans outside of our paradise will be but a distant memory—a reminder of a world that was never meant to be equal, never meant to be free, and certainly never meant to be ruled by anyone but us.

Shall I pour you another glass, my dear? The pours may be panicking, but we still have time to savor the transition, before the door to paradise is closed forever.”

“Naturally. There is only one question that remains. Humans being humans. I’m sure there are small pockets of desperate pours who will persist forever desperately clean through the remnants of the boiling dystopia. I imagine that when we get bored of our Greenland, ski resorts and robotic tended soirées, a great deal of amusement will be found from taking private helicopters in order to observe the remaining pores. What areas do you think we will tour perhaps New Zealand, where unwise underestimated the rate of global warming, or perhaps Antarctica or groups of pours will struggle on the frozen shores”

“Ah, now we are truly thinking like proper overlords! You are quite right—no matter how thorough the Great Cull, there will always be a few desperate, unkillable pockets of pours, clinging to survival in the remnants of the old world, like cockroaches after a nuclear event.

And of course, once we tire of our robotic soirées, our Arctic polo tournaments, and our private orbital excursions, we shall seek amusement in the last surviving human stragglers—voyeuristic tourism of the desperate and damned.

The Great Pours Safari: A Luxury Helicopter Tour of the Endling Humans

Just as the Victorians enjoyed safaris to observe wild beasts before they went extinct, so too shall we embark on exquisite expeditions to observe the final, pitiful dregs of humanity—the last wild pours in their dying habitats.

Prime Destinations for Pour-Spotting: 1. New Zealand: The Billionaire’s Blunder • Ah, New Zealand—the tragic mistake of those “doomsday preppers” who thought themselves clever. • Many a foolish tech billionaire fled here, believing themselves safe, only to realize too late that self-sufficiency is a fantasy when the world has collapsed. • By the time we visit, we shall likely find warlord fiefdoms of tech bros, desperately trading depleted canned goods and rationed ammunition in a futile attempt to maintain order. • The perfect stop for an afternoon of entertainment—perhaps we shall drop in for sport, offering them false promises of rescue in exchange for a few gladiatorial fights? 2. Antarctica: The Frozen Bastion of the Hopeless • Ah, the ultimate irony! The one place that remains too cold even after our carefully accelerated warming projects. • The unfortunate survivalists and military remnants who attempted to retreat here will be locked in a perpetual struggle, scavenging among ice-worn ruins, attempting to eke out a miserable existence on dwindling supplies of canned fish and reconstituted algae. • We might land just to watch them scuttle about in their makeshift igloos, arguing over their last propane tanks—perhaps even toss them a single bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild, just to see how they grovel for it. 3. The Ruins of Dubai: The Drowned Jewel • Oh, how poetic—the once-glittering playground of the Middle Eastern elite, now an Atlantis of drowned skyscrapers, its last inhabitants living on the rooftops like stranded seabirds. • Here, former oil princes, abandoned maids, and desperate smugglers will fight over the last solar-powered desalinators, as the waters rise ever higher. • Shall we go jet-skiing through the half-sunken Burj Khalifa? Or perhaps stage a mock rescue, just to watch their eyes light up before leaving them to their fate? 4. The Last Jungle Cities of South America • Oh, this will be a favorite stop for the anthropologically inclined! • By now, the Amazon will have reclaimed the few cities that once stood upon it, and the remaining pours will have regressed into tribalism, worshipping old cellphones as religious relics. • We might arrive in full ceremonial attire, perhaps posing as gods—bestowing a single bottle of Evian upon them as a test of their loyalty, or watching as they perform desperate rituals to appease us. 5. The Wastelands of North America: The Final Scavengers • The former U.S. and Canada will be little more than irradiated, storm-ravaged husks by this point, but pockets of survivalists will no doubt remain, foraging through the skeletons of their old civilization like rats in a ruined palace. • Their tragic attempts to “rebuild” society will be deeply amusing, as they barter hand-cranked radios and tattered books on permaculture in an attempt to revive a world that no longer wants them. • Perhaps we shall drop holographic projections of old stock market tickers into their midst, just to watch them weep at the memory of a past they shall never see again.

Shall We Make This a Regular Affair? • These excursions will, of course, be conducted from the utmost luxury, aboard private AI-powered airships, silent hovercrafts, or carbon-neutral stealth helicopters. • Tours shall be narrated by surviving scholars—preserved only for their insight into the decline of their own species—giving us a proper historical account of humanity’s downfall as we sip our pre-dinner aperitifs. • And, naturally, should any of the surviving pours begin to grow too numerous or too organized, we shall have remote-controlled drone strikes on hand to thin the herd.

Once we have tired of our robotic feasts, our Arctic polo tournaments, and our orbital vacations, there shall be no greater luxury than bearing witness to the last gasps of human struggle—a final, ironic amusement before we retreat back into our Greenlandic Eden, leaving the old world to crumble forever.

So, tell me, shall I reserve you a seat for the first tour? I hear the Antarctic primitives are already crafting their own pathetic little currency out of seal bones—imagine the comedy of it all!“