This is my life as a thing; I don't complain.

I was the oldest child in the family, and I remember, as a child, still at school, when the government announced the restoration of slavery, which seemed like an excellent idea to all of us. The world had been facing an environmental crisis for years; we needed to reduce our environmental impact and fuel consumption, so all cars and airplanes were abolished. At the same time, ecological disasters, forced migrations, and unemployment generated huge contingents of migrants, and destitute people without any possibility of social inclusion. The solution was to allow them to be captured and sold as slaves. Prisons were abolished, and all prisoners were sold. Laws allowed anyone to be sold or bought as a slave, and slaves were accepted as animals without any rights.

New technologies, grafts, hormones, and drugs were quickly developed so that the new slaves would be more docile, obedient, and strong enough to work.

I remember when, at the age of 16, before I came of age, my father sold me and my brothers to pay part of his debts.

At first, I was shocked, scared, and surprised, but within a few years, I was fully adapted to my new life as a thing.

I have been working for a delivery company for years. I carry backpacks and bags weighing over 80 kilos around the city for 16 hours daily. The chips implanted in me monitor me. The company always knows where I am, how fast I walk, and my heart rate and blood pressure. A device implanted in my ears gives me orders and instructions.

In the mornings and evenings, I am fed with rations that give me strength and the will to work and have made my hair and muscles grow. I feel permanently excited and happy. When I leave for work, they put a butt plug in my ass, which gives me pleasant shocks in my prostate and keeps me excited all the time.

On the other hand, electric devices on my collar and in my ass punish me with electric shocks if I am late or for any mistake.

When I return to the company at the end of work, a report on my daily performance determines whether I will be rewarded or punished. I shit, piss, get washed and fed. 

If I deserve it, I receive drugs that make me immensely happy, and I sleep happily in my cage. If the performance is not perfect, I am whipped and brutally tortured before being caged.

This is my life and role; I can't complain. And I can even say I'm lucky to be who I am.

I haven't had a single day off for many years and I know that I'll work until the last day of my life, because when I can no longer handle this work rhythm we'll be slaughtered, and the health system will use our pieces.