pigs-utopia

This world, though seemingly vast, is already meticulously fenced in by countless invisible boundaries.

Once, a group of pigs escaped the slaughterhouse and built their own utopia.
They declared they would never again be butchered, never again follow orders.
They formed a parliament, drafted a charter, raised a flag, and celebrated new holidays.
They believed freedom had arrived.

But soon, fences returned—only now, they bore new names:
"To protect the hard-earned civilization."
Votes still existed—but all topics were preselected by the Breed Optimization Bureau.
Broadcasts still played—but every note had been cleared by the Mudfield Safety Agency.

They smeared mud over the surveillance cameras,
not knowing that mud itself was now a regulated material.
They learned to dance beneath the fence,
but no longer dared to mention the legends of “the outside”.

This is not the pigs' fault, it is the structure's fault.

The world we live in—is it not also a carefully curated utopia of benevolent custody?

The state in the name of stability, constructs a logic of fear: Security traded for freedom.
Capital in the name of efficiency, harvests the dignity of labor: Convenience traded for privacy.
Technology in the name of progress, reinforces control systems: Algorithms traded for agency.
Education in the name of growth, trains obedience as a virtue: Standardization traded for soul.

And so we enter an era that “permits everything—within assigned zones”:

You may speak—but not beyond the approved channel.
You may choose—but only from the recommended list.
You may rebel—but kindly stay within the script.

This is not enslavement—it is participatory happiness.
Not deprivation—but personalized care.
Not censorship—but intelligent path optimization.

The most exquisite system does not crush you—
it makes you grateful for the cage, celebrate it, even defend it with your own voice.

You thought freedom was a way of running,
but you were already sliding along a data rail.
Every choice, already labeled.
Every silence, quietly marked as “compliance”.

Just like those pigs singing inside the wall,
dancing proudly as they chant: "We are no longer livestock!"

And yet, no one dares to ask:

Who built the wall? What lies beyond it? And why have we never truly left?

Utopia is not a lie, it is simply a perfect excuse,
to erase the very possibility of questioning or departure.