Killin' the Academy

In the year 2015, a terrorist attack was staged at the Academy Awards, killing 90% of the A-List actors, 83% of the B-List actors, and 100% of the C-List actors who were all attempting to sneak in. Now, in this post-apocalyptic America, millions upon millions have taken up acting in order to try and fill the void of our once beloved stars.

Industry and agriculture have all but ceased. Power has degenerated, leaving local warlords and petty acting coaches to fight gangland style over territory. Para-military improv troupes patrol the towns, accosting passersby and forcing them to shout out ideas for their next skit. Community theaters, once regarded as the dregs of the acting world, now function as seats of theatrical justice. The accused watch as the community theater actors perform cheap and histrionic reenactments of their crimes, generally followed by steam-punk renditions of Oklahoma. Those persons with constitutions strong enough to endure these trials(most commit suicide during intermission), face one of two sentences: death or forced labor making sets and costumes for the community theater. 

The landscape is further marred by paparazzi who wander aimlessly, abjuring food and sleep in the hopes of finding the next big star. Inexorable and seemingly immortal packs of paparazzi swarm their victims, feasting upon their acting talents with camera lenses. Only the quick and those able to mask their acting talents survive.

The almighty dollar no longer holds sway in these lands. Many forms of currency now proliferate, including acting lessons, scripts, a role in a movie that somebody's cousin is directing, and props. The most coveted of all, however, is celebrity gossip. Tidbits and rumors are traded on street corners like drugs and in huge forums like stocks on Wall Street. Rappers interested in "makin' it rain" recite a litany of celebrity news. The prevalence of so-called "blood gossip" is rampant as people kill one another for factoids as mundane as a celebrities' true taint length or knowledge of which Harry Potter book they found most erotic.

Not even human conversation is an escape in this bleak land of performance. Dialogue has been replaced by soliloquy and aside to a nonexistent audiences. Often, people approach one another, staring longingly into one another's eyes and tacitly begging for human interaction. Yet, as if addicted or perhaps possessed, these lonely souls take the opportunity to launch into grand monologues about the nature of death or about how the 90's were far and away the best decade.

Even the family, the backbone of America society, has collapsed. Mothers watch as their children starve while they conserve all their breast milk for that "one big role." Fathers prostitute their sons, waving all their rights just for a chance to be featured in the next Salo remake. Children murder their parents while they sleep  on the off chance that the mental trauma caused by the experience may unlock some innate acting ability within them.

The Holy Church of Method Acting is all that remains of organized religion. It's members are often so dedicated to the Church's creed that they never come out of character.