At Some Point In The Future, In Some Version Of The Universe

At Some Point In The Future, In Some Version Of The Universe

You step outside of your family's apartment into the community garden. You're relieved that you live on the ground floor, you don't have the energy to climb ten floors after all the work you did last night. You roll your eyes- you only got assigned the ground floor apartment because its the largest and you have the biggest family. If it weren't for all your siblings you wouldn't have had to work so late in the first place. Life is complicated, you wish you were alive in your grandparents' time when things were so much simpler.

Still, you take a deep breath and step onto the spongy grass. It's damp and your socks get soggy, even though you're wearing shoes. Some people are already up, they wish you a good morning as they pick berries and herbs from the garden. Some ask how your parents are doing. Some say happy birthday to your sister and why aren't you inside celebrating. You tell them grandma sent you to buy cake ingredients and carry on walking.

Past the planter boxes, past the bike racks, you get to the road. You can't see very far in the morning mist, but hear the hum of an engine. You think it's the self-driving shuttle bus and hold out your thumb, but it's actually a personal car. Everyone in the garden looks at the rich, necklace-wearing woman inside as she zooms past, almost hitting a couple of bikes. You pull back your hand, you wouldn't want someone like her to think you were waving.

Finally the shuttle bus comes and you get inside, brushing your wrist against the chip reader. You nod hello to the few passengers around you but don't make conversation. You're busy calculating costs in your head. You want to figure out whether the family can afford to buy a little extra for your sister- a chocolate chip cookie would be nice.

When you step into the food mart, the light above the door flickers green and the welcome message starts. It says soy milk is twenty percent off for today only, compliments of the united earth president. That's good, your grandma wanted milk. The lino squeaks under your feet and you playfully try to tiptoe along the nail holes where the cashie counters used to be fastened. There are no counters now, only rows of stocked shelves and food printers.

You see your old neighbour holding some bread- she had to move to another apartment when her mother died. Your heart warms as you exchange greetings and she wishes your sister all the best. But why the heck are you buying ingredients when it's so much cheaper to print, she asks. You say your grandma wanted the cake to be special, like when she was little.

The baking aisle lights up as you enter it. The boxes are all faded and old, but you're happy because that means they'll be reduced. And there'll be money for that cookie. You pull a raggedy fold-up bag from your pocket and place a box of flour inside, then the raising agent, then the cocoa.

You shiver as you enter the freezer section- it's even colder than the morning air. There's a crate of soy milk waiting, and you eagerly grab a bottle knowing that it will be discounted at the door. Your old neighbour takes one too, and she walks you to the printer on her way out. Your shopping bag is heavy, but there's space for a chocolate chip cookie. You tap the screen and input C, then O, another O, and COOKIE appears. After selecting choc-chip, the machine churns and beeps, radiating heat. A little door opens in its side and a cookie slides out. The warm chocolate glistens, it smells delicious. Maybe you'll get one when your birthday comes around.

Whilst you're placing the cookie in a bag, the store alarms sound. The door's light is flashing red and your old neighbour is standing below it, looking embarrassed and scared. She steps back inside and puts the milk on the floor before police can come and accuse her of stealing. She starts crying and says her brother must've gambled all the family's money again. You wish you could help her out, but you need that extra money for the cookie.

After a hug, and your assurance that the milk was probably going sour anyway, your neighbour leaves. The light flashes green as the remainder of her family's money is deducted from their account. Then you walk through the door and the light flashes again, the scanner catching the chip in your wrist.

The sun is fully up now, and you wave at the bike riders who speed past on their way to work. You won't have to work today, thank goodness, because it's your sister's birthday. As you wait for a shuttle bus, you pick a couple strawberries from the roadside garden. They'll be beautiful on the cake. Boy, you're looking forward to some old-fashioned, home-made baking. As you cookie's scent drifts around you and the morning sun warms your shoulders, you imagine getting stuck into that delicious cake. For one day, you don't have a care in the world.