STRUXOMBORG is a tiny country. So small that it’s metropolis takes up its entire land mass. It is “The City and Country Built By Pies.” The legal tender up until 1934 was pies. It’s amazing that a country who’s currency was entirely based around baking and trading pies existed. But it did. And, in some respects, it still continues today. They trade the pies for money.
Not everyone who lives in Struxomborg is happy, but not everyone who lives anywhere is happy either. Most people who live in Struxomborg never leave. Every 5 or ten years some one tries, but they realize they were mistaken and are back at work the next day.
They are also watched by surveillance. Very closely.
To ensure the pies are made correctly – no overstuffing, no overfilling. The city they live in churns out film of every moment everywhere as the people produce pie after pie.
It’s amazing to see a whole city working on one production line: the making of crust, the filling with filling, and the baking and boxing. The management says the workers are happy. The workers say they are happy as they smile and gaze up. So the cameras can see their grinning faces. Every day they smile and gaze and make pies. They smile and gaze and make pies. They smile and gaze and make pies. They smile and gaze and make pies. They smile and gaze and make pies. They smile and gaze and make pies.
Until one day, a worker disappeared. None of the leaders knew where she went. None of the management knew where she went. None of the workers knew where she went. Her own brother didn’t ever know where she went. Not even the surveillance knew where she went. The omni-present eye had lost one of it’s citizens.
They surveillance cameras kept working and watching, and when other citizens tried to quietly disappear from their places in Struxomborg, they were all caught and returned home. As time went on, there were fewer and fewer attempts. Some workers would still smiles and gaze and make pies, smile and gaze and make pies, smile and gaze and make pies. Others, however, remained distracted by the hope of one day leaving the country. In the shadows of the first great war, some of these distracted citizens began to talk.
Years passed and the citizens in Struxomborg slept or had secret meetings or romped with their lovers. One night, the surveillance went down. No one could restore the surveillance system. All their experts tried all the greatest ideas they knew. Nothing worked. But exactly 60 minutes later, when the system came back on, flyers and posters littered the streets.
None of the leaders knew where they came from. None of the management knew where they came from. None of the workers knew where they came from. Not even the opposition party knew where they came from.
The posters yelled out in the streets in loud color. A large message screamed “Just Do It” as a lanky, pale bird in a green tanktop held up a dimpled orange ball. A check mark sealed the bird’s affirmative feelings for the orange ball.
On this day, the missing girl’s brother woke up in his bed of the family home, 20 years older. After his sister disappeared, he devoted himself to his country to prove him family’s loyalty. He rose through the ranks until he looked down on everyone. He gave orders and squashed uprisings. He excelled in diplomacy, offering a plethora of pies in deals.
On this day, he walked downstairs and saw his sister sitting at the kitchen table, the same age as when she went missing. He stared and maneuvered his way to a chair, never taking his eyes off her. She, happily, took small bites of a breakfast pie.
Without looking up from her food or acknowledging her brother, she sang “money, they’re giving none away.”
This made no sense to people in 1934, but her brother went to his office, sure he knew the meaning of these words, and presented his plan to switch Struxomobrg to a cash-based currency with a pie-based economy. The country prospered under the switch. He brother prospered and became even more well-liked in the high social and political circles of Struxomborg. The missing girl went missing again in 1942, but her brother made sure her sister’s name, Sara Lee, appeared on all the goods produced in Struxomborg.