By the 22nd century AD, Earth is unrecognizable from a century hence.
Industrial nanites drift through the atmosphere like an endless smog, and average temperatures have climbed by ten degrees globally. There are few of the original biological beings still alive outside carefully closed environments on Earth (and throughout the solar system). Humanity is now more diverse than ever, with literally hundreds or thousands of billions of registered citizens throughout the solar system. While the overwhelming majority have embraced post-human or info-morph existence, roughly fifty million people have stubbornly remain physically human, opting for the visceral experience of flesh and blood. These relatively few “ludditionals” exist largely underground in carefully engineered habitats on Earth and the Moon, a dwindling society characterized by its siege mentality, nostalgia, and outright distrust of the advanced trans-human and digital civilizations that now dominate the Solar System.
A World Left Behind: The Emergence of the Ludditional Mindset
The decision to remain biologically human is not without cost. Most ludditionals live within fortified underground caverns, isolated from the searing heat and toxic atmosphere on Earth’s surface. To survive, they rely on an intricate, government-subsidized ecosystem of recycling and containment. By their own choice, they retain bodies virtually indistinguishable from the humans of 2023, eschewing enhancements and cybernetic upgrades that have long been the norm for the rest of humanity. To them, even minor upgrades—faster processing power, stronger physical capabilities, or enhanced senses—are seen as corruptions of human purity. The remaining ludditionals view their existence as an act of defiance, clinging to a way of life that was once universal but has become, to them, an existential imperative. To the rest of far advanced humanity these regions are functionally asylums.
As Earth’s surface becomes increasingly inhospitable to organic life, ludditionals feel a profound sense of encirclement, a siege mentality rooted in both their environmental isolation and their ideological opposition to a post-human society. They believe that while the trans-human masses have transcended traditional human limits, they have lost something essential: the shared heritage, limitations, and interconnected struggles that defined the human experience for millennia. To the ludditionals, the digitized or heavily augmented humans have become monstrous strangers — alien minds in human guise, operating on different principles, and unable to comprehend the value of humanity as it once was.
Underground Cities: A Fortress of Tradition
The underground environments of the ludditionals are designed as sanctuaries from both the physical and cultural pressures of the new age. These caverns are titanic spaces, carved deep into Earth’s most stable tectonic bedrock, shielded from both the scorching atmosphere and the technological transformations taking place above. Each cavern operates like a miniature city, complete with homes, communal areas, and places for worship and craft—echoes of 21st-century cities but with an edge of militaristic efficiency, as if preparing for an unending siege. In some areas you would believe you are in the 20h or early 21st century – actual structures from above were transported there brick by brick.
Life here is grounded in traditions from centuries past, with a focus on physical labor, communal activities, and ritualistic re-enactments. For these people, cultural practices are paramount: they grow real food, sew their own clothes, and create art with their hands. While they could easily import synthetic resources or advanced technologies to ease their lives, they choose instead to live with simplicity, partly as a statement and partly out of distrust. Each small ritual and act, from the planting of crops to the singing of traditional songs, becomes an affirmation of their resistance to a world they feel has lost its way. Every region chooses its own nationality, cultural minority and historical era. You will find bourgondian coastal french from the early 21st century in one place, and orthodox hassidic jews just a few kilometers down the road.
Ludditional society is united by a near-universal adherence to ritual, often intertwined with religious practices that venerate human limitations as virtues. Many of these humans adopt archaic customs, mimicking lifestyles that would be familiar to people from centuries past. This lifestyle, however, is a luxury made possible by the financial backing of post-human society, which views these communities with a mix of condescension, amusement, and respect for their “authenticity.” For most of the solar system all this functionally LARP.
Hostility and Distrust: The Siege Mentality Deepens
Despite receiving subsidies from the broader civilization, ludditionals hold deep-seated suspicions about the motivations of their benefactors. To them, every resource received is tinged with the possibility of hidden agendas, a covert attempt to “corrupt” or “evolve” them against their will. Rumors circulate within these communities that the advanced beings who dominate the Solar System see them as a mere curiosity or an endangered terrarium species, with plans to control or even euthanize them once their numbers dwindle enough.
The intense paranoia stems from more than just fear of obsolescence; it’s a profound distrust of what humanity has become. To the ludditionals, the post-human population embodies a betrayal of everything that once defined human life. Digital beings can switch identities, customize memories, alter emotions, and even reconfigure their forms at will. Such fluidity is viewed by ludditionals as an affront to the fixed, enduring identity they cherish. Over time, they have come to regard the post-human world as a collection of unrecognizable minds masquerading in human form, incapable of true empathy or moral constancy. The most extreme believe there are no more actual humans beyond them and these alleged transhumans are little more than A.I. chatbots faking being people.
Even within their fortified havens, this suspicion permeates every aspect of life. Strict societal codes discourage any interaction with non-ludditionals, and those who dare to explore info-morph or cybernetic states are often shunned. The decision to adopt even a small enhancement is seen as an abandonment of humanity, leading to an increasing rift between those who cling to unaltered forms and the few who occasionally experiment with digital experiences.
The Pressure of Attrition: A Dwindling Population
As their numbers decline, ludditionals struggle to maintain their community. The few young people born into this way of life face a world they view as endlessly constrained, and many express a desire to explore life beyond the walls of their caverns. Although deeply indoctrinated with ludditional values, some quietly question whether their commitment to these principles is worth the constant vigilance and restriction. As much as they cherish their traditions, the allure of a freer, more flexible existence becomes harder to ignore. However, leaving comes at a high social cost, and those who depart are often treated as traitors, their names erased from records and stories.
Economic pressure also weighs heavily on the ludditional society. Each new year requires an increasing budget to sustain the technologically isolated terrariums. While their lives are funded by a society that can well afford it, there is a growing discomfort about the fiscal strain their lifestyle imposes on their benefactors. The post-human authorities, while supportive of the ludditionals’ right to live as they choose, occasionally hint that the expense of maintaining their isolated enclaves may one day be deemed “unsustainable.” This looming threat compounds the siege mentality, as ludditionals perceive even the faintest mention of fiscal limitations as a form of psychological warfare.
Symbolism and the Cost of Resistance
The ludditionals’ decision to live without enhancement has elevated them to a kind of symbolic martyrdom. In the eyes of post-human society, they represent the final guardians of “authentic humanity.” This veneration, however, does little to soothe the ludditionals, who resent being treated as relics or museum exhibits. They reject the notion that they are simply holding onto the past, arguing instead that they are preserving the essential nature of humanity, which they believe is being eroded by endless modification and adaptation.
Over time, the post-human society has created “theatres” where visitors can experience simulated ludditional environments, complete with replicas of their underground cities and virtual humans mimicking ludditional life. These simulations are immensely popular, allowing post-humans to briefly escape the fluid, shifting reality they inhabit. Ironically, the demand for these experiences creates an ethical tension: while post-humans adore these carefully curated replicas, they’re unwilling to fully support the “authentic” ludditional lifestyle. This has fueled further resentment among the ludditionals, who see these simulations as a cheap caricature of their lives.
A Fragile Future: How Long Can the Ludditionals Endure?
For now, the ludditional society endures. But they know their existence is precarious. They are aware that their way of life could end, not through force or war, but by simple neglect (or sheer contempt), as their population dwindles to a size that no longer justifies the cost of their isolated habitats. The knowledge that they are financially dependent on a society they neither trust nor understand weighs heavily on the ludditionals, reinforcing their hostility and resolve.
Every passing year intensifies the siege mentality. The remaining ludditionals grow increasingly defiant, determined to endure as the last bastion of humanity untouched by digital and synthetic hands. They see themselves as stewards of a lineage that stretches back thousands of years, guardians of a fragile spark they refuse to let be extinguished. But in a universe that has moved on without them, where progress is measured by adaptation and flexibility, the question remains: how long can the ludditionals hold onto the past before it leaves them behind?
Their existence is a testament to both the power of tradition and the cost of resistance—a reminder that the human story, in all its forms, will continue as long as there are those who believe in its worth.