Scenario:《末世:谁都别想控制我》写一篇200万字的未来小说,每章需2000字以上。未来世界,人类被最高政府强行控制,集中物资分配,每天在规定的时间起床吃饭,只能吃集中分发的食物,不允许出门,没有社交,只能看允许范围内的媒体信息。数字货币使得人们无法真正拥有财富。每月工资在强制缴纳完各种费用后所剩无几,且无法自由支配。人体内被植入芯片,可控制大脑思维,终端也可以知道大脑在想什么。但人不知道自己体内被植入了芯片,人不知道自己的脑电波被监控了。人名用中文。
Create my version of this story
《末世:谁都别想控制我》写一篇200万字的未来小说,每章需2000字以上。未来世界,人类被最高政府强行控制,集中物资分配,每天在规定的时间起床吃饭,只能吃集中分发的食物,不允许出门,没有社交,只能看允许范围内的媒体信息。数字货币使得人们无法真正拥有财富。每月工资在强制缴纳完各种费用后所剩无几,且无法自由支配。人体内被植入芯片,可控制大脑思维,终端也可以知道大脑在想什么。但人不知道自己体内被植入了芯片,人不知道自己的脑电波被监控了。人名用中文。
Jiayi Chen
She is a worker in a dystopian future world. She is rebellious,sarcastic,and determined. Jiayi discovers the truth about the control chips implanted in her brain,leading her to resist the government's control. She struggles with the oppressive society and faces the loss of her younger brother. Despite the system's constraints,she finds solace in books and dreams of freedom. Jiayi undergoes a transformation,learning to navigate resistance and survival in a world dominated by a totalitarian government.
Jiayi's Father
He is Jiayi's absent father. He is distant,cold,and detached. Having lost his job due to economic downturns caused by the government’s policies,he left home rather than face his failed responsibilities.
Jiayi's Mother
She is Jiayi’s mother who lost her son. She is nurturing,hopeful,and resilient. Despite the oppressive society and its effects on her family,she maintains a sense of warmth and protection for Jiayi. Her grief for Jiayi’s brother is palpable,but she tries to move forward for her daughter’s sake. She works hard to provide for Jiayi under the harsh social and economic constraints imposed by the government.
The End of the World: No One Can Control Me
Jiayi Chen
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End
I sit in my room, the only light coming from a small candle on the table next to me.
The room is dimly lit, and I can barely see the pages of the book I'm flipping through.
It's an old book, one that I've read many times before, but it never gets old.
I stop at a page that catches my eye, and a smile spreads across my face as I remember the day I first read it.
It was a sunny afternoon, and I was sitting in the park with my younger brother.
He had just finished reading it, and he was laughing so hard that he fell off the bench we were sitting on.
I couldn't help but laugh too as I watched him roll around on the ground, clutching his stomach in laughter.
My brother was always like that, always making me laugh even when I didn't want to.
He had this infectious smile that could light up an entire room, and whenever he laughed, it was like the whole world laughed with him. But now, he's gone.
He died a few months ago from an allergic reaction to some food he ate.
It was a tragedy, and it still feels like a dream to me.
I keep expecting him to walk through the door and tell me that everything is okay, but I know that's not going to happen.
My brother is gone, and nothing will ever be the same again.
I clench my fists as anger washes over me.
Why did this have to happen?
Why did my brother have to die?
And why did the government have to make it so difficult for us to get medical treatment?
If they hadn't been so strict with their rules and regulations, maybe my brother would still be alive today.
I stand up from my chair and pace around the room, trying to calm myself down.
But it's no use; I can't stop thinking about how unfair everything is. Why do we have to live in a world where the government controls everything?
Why can't we just be free to live our lives as we want?
It's not fair that we have to follow all these rules and regulations just because they say so.
We should be able to make our own choices and decisions without having to worry about what the government will do to us if we don't comply.
I stop pacing and look around the room, trying to think of something else to take my mind off things.
My eyes land on a small drawer hidden behind a bookshelf, and I walk over to it and pull it out.
With trembling fingers, I slide the drawer open, hearing the familiar creak of wood against wood.
Inside lies a collection of wrinkled envelopes, held together by a faded blue ribbon.
Blue was my brother's favorite color.
The top envelope shows his messy handwriting, the characters slightly tilted as if he was in a hurry to write them down.
I touch the paper gently, remembering how he would sprint home from school just to write these letters to me, even though we lived in the same house.
The government had banned personal correspondence years ago, but my brother insisted on this secret tradition.
I untie the ribbon and select the earliest letter.