Utopia.

“Utopia”, they called it. In a way, they are correct. This place suits humans perfectly. The strongest impose their will, the weakest feed on their trash. Laws have long since evaporated. Only tyrants rule. The machines grow, feed, harvest us. Terra is a long-lost place of legends and folk tales. We don’t remember what they called this place in the old days. It must have had a name, but it is lost to us. They call it home. I named it hell.
I think I used to be a criminal, in those other days. I vaguely remember trees, parks. Or maybe I was an idealist. Whatever I was, I am but a shadow of what I once was. All of us here, shades in the dark. No way off this shithole of a planet, only a way in. A machine named Sweep controls the spaceport. With it comes the only official medical facility here. Been there once, when I lost my arms. Had to work off the debt, but it was worth it.
Knocking on the door. A voice yelling. I seal my suit, and turn around. Door gets blasted to pieces. Screaming from across the hall. Raid. Three of them run in, pointing their guns at me. One of them tells me to put up my arms. Same voice as the yelling, must be their leader. I put up my arms, no sense resisting. Curious about what they want. There is nothing here but me.
Three hours later, I am sitting in a small room. They’ve taken my suit, even my arms. Removed the lenses from my right eye. Half-blind and unarmed I wait for them to tell me what they want. A young woman enters. Her long hair is black, I can see the datawires hanging from her temples. Heavy cybernetics on her left side. Good quality, probably servant of a machine. Her voice is a monotone, soft and unnerving. She tells me I will do as she says or die. I have accepted her offer.

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I haven't written anything for a while. It's not flowing.
This came up, and it's something.
Should I continue this?

This would turn into a dystopian cyberpunkish story.