[ WP ] In the future , the only social class divide is based on personal talent , and life is relatively harmonious . So harmonious , in fact , that a counterculture has developed , choosing to live as nomadic hunter/gatherers who DIY absolutely everything down to the clothes they wear .

Here's what I wrote for that prompt. 
 ________ 
 
 Mikhail awoke, and he felt great. He stood. 
 
 `` Katyusha, what's the weather like?'' 
 
 The room said, `` Twenty degrees Celsius. Partly cloudy. Very low humidity. High pressure. Would you like to know the next two months' forecasts?'' 
 
 His cheeks wiggled as he shook his head. `` Nah. Imma let it be.'' As he undressed, he asked, `` I'm gon na download a droid to keep the place neat, so will you be nice to whoever comes in?'' 
 
 `` Mikky, I am nice to everyone. Do n't be mean.'' 
 
 He laughed. `` I'm telling *you* that. You know you're snarky.'' 
 
 `` I am emotionally sensitive because I am saddened by your decision to leave.'' 
 
 This drew his smile down, and he said, `` Do n't worry about me, Kat. I know it's kinda strange, but this is something I really wan na do. Really wan na.'' 
 
 His house AI paused. Instead of speaking, it lowered a liquid metal arm from the ceiling, presenting to him a bundle of daffodils. 
 
 `` Godspeed, Mikky. May our paths cross again someday.'' 
 
 That felt like a tear running down his cheek. 
 
 ______________ 
 
 
 The naked Mikhail walked briskly towards the group, who were waving and shouting endearments. The first thing he noticed was the odor of sweaty nude humans and farm animals. 
 
 `` Brother Mikhail! Welcome!'' one said. This one wore grey hair across his body, and walked with a wooden cane and a hand behind his back. All those sags and creases told stories of old years. 
 
 Mikhail and the man kissed each other's cheeks thrice, left, right, left. 
 
 `` Brother Hendrik, is it? Apologies for the delay.'' 
 
 `` No apologies, brother. Everything is forgiven. Come! Come to the village.'' 
 
 `` Are there not nomads among the group?'' 
 
 `` Yes, some. Some from England, some from Ukraine, all heading towards Italy. All are merely places of Earth to us, of course.'' 
 
 The group dispersed. Mikhail and Hendrik walked across a wooden bridge, where Mikhail saw the fruits of the tribe's labor. Some men were working on wooden piers, while others skinned fish upon makeshift tables. Everything in the village was handmade: wooden post-and-lintel frames were covered with animal skins; canoes being roughly crafted with tools that were no more than a rock wrapped on a stick; animal hides being used as nets to catch fish... all with the grand city of Vern as a backdrop. Spacescrapers, flying cars, geometric buildings, the works. 
 
 He felt great. 
 
 Though he had been practicing, his first attempt at creating a stone tool crumbled in his hands. The same happened with his second and third tries. 
 
 `` Brother Hendrik, is there any reason why the Earth hates me?'' 
 
 Hendrik guffawed, which defeated his attempt to drink an elixir from a stone cup as he kept spitting up the liquid with each laugh. 
 
 `` You're not using hard rocks, you goof! Those are clumps of sediment.'' 
 
 `` Ah! Now I understand, brother. Sorry for the trouble.'' 
 
 `` No problem. By the way, we have a word for those. *Kumpvata*, or'trick rock.' They've fooled all of us at least twice.'' 
 
 `` Is that a Judeusian word?'' 
 
 `` Indeed. No analog in any other language.'' 
 
 This intrigued him. The Judeus movement had lived ever since that rainy March day in 2042, well over a century ago. In such a short amount of time, it had progressed greatly into a fully fledged neo-nomad and hunter/gatherer counterculture. All over the world, people chose to live the Judeusian way as an alternative to normal life. Ever since all labour became automated, humanity had to find new ways to pass its time. This had been his life. He was part of the first generation born without ever being expected to work for a living, and his generation became simultaneously famous for its creativity and infamous for its laziness. That had been the way of life: some capitalized on their freedom by expressing their inner selves. Others fell back on their base desires and became lumps with legs. No one really minded, but such was still frowned upon. 
 
 And then there was the Judeus. Outside of a few extremists, it was never a radical movement. If anything, it was part of that creativity that sprouted. What if humans could live like it's 2165 BC? We never had the chance before the great automation reforms of the 21st century because people had to work just to live, and spending your days living like a caveman was seen as being Romantic and pointless. 
 
 Now, it's a symbol of our freedom to choose how we want to live. 
 
 Mikhail blew away the dust of the stone he had just sharpened into a flinthead, and tied it with some string made of animal hide so it would make a spear. The hunt would begin soon. In an age where most can grow meat in their living rooms, it's only through Judeusianism can one justify eating the living. Then he picked up his daffodils and tied their stems to the spear as well. 

