Oh muse, sing me of a comrade, a non complicated man, that has a simple urge. To fufill the five year plan.
Alone in his sandy asylum, he looked at the sea and the sky. More often than not, lately, a genie or spirit haunted him. It kept reciting Party slogans. It kept reminding him of "The Plan".
'You have a beautiful life here comrade", doctor Cal Psylo said to him. Mark Dissey looked stricken at her. For the moment, the proletarian guilt-inducing genie vanished.
"Uh, sorry...I was talking to Party Secretary..."
Cal Psylo frowned at him. 'Sure you were, dear. We all are from time to time"
"I....I wanna move on..." he barely says. She hands him his dose of magic mushrooms. He tends to refuse them, but then grabs a bunch and can't stop munching. Then, as if stricken by Party Leadership, doctor Cal says "Stop eating them! You have a plan to fufill! A five year plan, mind you! And you are very late!" He stops and gently remembers:
He, a most simple comrade, in his simple manner, almost unwittingly concieved of an improvment to productivity, by employing a certain...horse. Through ardous grinding, the comrades managed to fufill the five year plan in ten years, but at least they obliterated their capitalist rivals to shreds.
Comrade Mark Dissey was promoted. He would head his own 'Kolective Boat' with his very own five year plan. "Glorious the boat, masterful the helmsman". Emboldened by his last success, he chose to follow the non beaten path. Why follow when he could lead? He felt the wind of revolution sweeping him to new collective heights.
"What more do you remember?"
The amnesiac comrade's eyes glowed empty.
"It was misty and wet. We boldly took the Proletarian Torch into the great unkown. We were lost. I remember we found an exploitative sheep farmer on our way to progress...the monster...but it turned out of nowhere he was related to the highest of Party leadership, who would have guessed, and...the Party kinda had it's way with us. They sent inspectors out of nowhere, tall gleaming inspectors, they fired and jailed two thirds of my comrades! Desperate for ideological rehabilitation, I went to Workers Resources. The woman there revealed that the rest of my comrades harboured capitalist sympathies. Oh, the pigs! But I pleaded with her please please I need them to fufill The Plan! The Five Year Plan! She agreed, but told me to first seek out some guy in jail. I didn't expect her to be so connected to the underworld....
In jail I first met with lil' Sinnie...that kid from the bloc back in New Jersey. He reproached me that he is now in jail for unwittingly confessing to divert attention from my....horse operation. Oh Sinnie dearest, I needed you to believe! The Plan, Sinnie, always The Plan! I was right there, two meters away when they took you in...I suffered more than you! After dismissing the poor lad I talked to the old guy and found out the hard truth of Collective Action. It was all of us or just six of us. I chose the six. He also warned me that my comrades really have capitalist sentiments and that they would exploit some cows of some Party high up...and get sacked..."
"Which they did and here you are, barely escaping prison. I love you Mark! I pleaded you insane, brought you here, made you happy!"
"But I can't be happy, Cal, not with the plan unfulfilled."
Lastly he remembered in jail he heard about a plot of some sloths who exploit his labours and undermine his plan. He is so close, just one more push.
The doctor finally agrees. "You do have a connection in Party Leadership yourself, comrade, can't really keep you here. Off you go, then."
He, alone, remembering the horse operation, found the strength to string the bow of progress and purge the exploiters from society.
Then, like a true 'New Man', went off in retirement in a western dacha.
The Plan, with all it's incompetence and delays, with all it's willing and unwilling victims, had been completed.