“Wouldn’t it be nice if the world was chocolate?”
Those were the words to the ever famous Cadbury chocolate TV ad that aired every night many many years ago. Children would watch the ad, dreaming of the prospects of living in a world completely made of chocolate. Even the adults would think about it every now and then.
What if the world was chocolate?
Well, I can guarantee that it isn’t what they’d think. No one’s chocolate here, not in that way.
We’re called The Chocolate Society because of our skin colour. If it was the old days, we’d call that name racist, but there’s no such thing as racism anymore. How could there be? We’re all the same now.
All of us.
No one’s better, no one’s prettier. No one’s loved and adored more than any other. We’re all quite literally the same.
Years ago, the world fell into chaos. No exactly wars, just stupid society at it again. White people were killing the black, the homosexuals killing the straight. Everything was thrown around and twisted. No one could accept anyone anymore. Not their skin colour, not their sexuality and not their beliefs.
So, as a means to make the world a peaceful place again, the governments banded together and formed the idea of The Chocolate Society. They, however, didn’t even give the people a say in it. According to my school books, they didn’t even know about it until it was too late.
We watch documentaries at school all the time made right back when The Chocolate Society first came to be. The people weren’t angry, just confused. They spoke about how they woke up in hospitals, pinned to a bed. They spoke about their transformations which got more painful the older you were. They showed pictures of themselves before it came to be and looking at them, I often feel pangs in my chest. How amazing it would be to look just a little different. Instead, I’m constantly looking at a mirror of myself.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, is the same now. We all have the same chocolate-brown skin colour thanks to the needles given to us from the moment we’re born and every birthday afterwards. Our eyes, those scary, synthetic, sky-blue eyes, were transformed as well, morphed and dyed until it reached the level of perfection everyone now had. Thankfully, they gave us a hair colour that matched our skin, a sort of dark-brown colour. For women, it’s styled to fall around our shoulder blades, no shorter and no longer. For men, it’s close cropped to the head.
It’s virtually impossible to tell us apart except for the number we have tattooed on our cheek. If they took that away, you’d have nothing to go on.
Except one more thing.
You see, the governments screwed up. They forgot one tiny detail they probably should have contained right from the start. Whether it’s because they couldn’t or simply because they didn’t care, I don’t know, but it was a mistake to let our minds function for ourselves. We may look the same, we may act the same, but we certainly do not think the same. We can think for ourselves and that’s probably the most vital things to have.
And it’s because of this tiny little slip that The Chocolate Society began to fail.