A Sort of Freedom

Mid-morning on Tuesday 8th March 2118: the autotaxi pulled up, and I was excited to see it.

It was Daniel’s duty to see me off. I was glad of this: I hadn’t seen him since Anno Domini day and still felt guilty. He told me that he had been censured, moved to another department for quite a while, and had felt guilty for putting my life in jeopardy. “If only I had checked the colouring pencils!” he tutted. “Well, had you let me beat you at chess, we might never have got to that point!” It was nice to make him laugh. He was alright.

I got his contact info, asked if he’d come round sometime and he said he’d think about it, which probably was his own polite way of saying no, but either way was okay with me. “You seem so much better than before, you really were nervous and terrified and – well, everyone who met you felt for you.” I thanked him for his kindness and mentioned that he still owed me hugs! He started: “Belinda Blue –”

I shook my head. “Let’s not go there.” “I’m really sorry, man,” he replied. It sounded like he was keen to say more on that subject, but that wall of mine was up, and up for good.

I turned to go, and – he offered me that hug! People can be really surprising sometimes. I just shook his hand, which I knew he preferred. I got in the autotaxi, and it took off.

Finally, my life could move forwards.

We were easily eighty feet off the ground, zipping at around forty miles per hour through clear skies, sun beating down onto the solarglass window by my face, as the AI driver chattered out the sports results. Apparently, netball was the most popular pastime in 2118 – who would have seen that coming? Teams like Pegasus Swans and Harlech Riders were competing, then Pogue Major Gorbstorffer versus Wooglashu Fottwop. I did laugh when he mentioned Neo Barnsley though.

I had so much to learn about this changed world, it was ridiculous!

I looked through passing windows of pristine high-rise flats with families happily enjoying the ‘cool’ 37-degree heat lying on balcony loungers, people doing a little work from home, or growing vegetables and flowers. Many waved at me. I waved back.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say my new life had started properly, that day. I wasn’t throwing what I could recall of my old one entirely in the bin – but I needed to be in motion, not stagnation. I was going to look around; take my blinkers off. I was going to talk to people and give them a chance. Yes, I knew I was broken, but maybe that would be okay.

I heard her voice. “Give us a chance, Adem, please give us a chance.”

She was right, but not Miss Right. That ship had sailed, and it was for the best for her. Yep. Definitely.

“Driver, top down!” And I felt the full blaze of the sun and the breeze flagging out my hair.

“Hey! You’re gonna be lobsterfied in minutes with skin that pale and no protection!”

An autocar came up alongside me. The occupant looked me over and beamed.

“You’re – Adem, you must be! Wow! I just heard on the news that you’re out!”

“Yes, I'm out, alright.”

“How does it feel to be free?”

“It. Feels. Good!” And boy, did it.

“Sir, do you mind if I take your picture?

“Go for it,” and I gave him a smile and a thumbs-up. I didn’t realise it then, but that picture would be trending globally very soon. I still didn’t quite get the big deal.

I asked him his name. “Dandy, sir, I’m called Dandy.”

“Dandy – Lion?”

“Hahahaha no. Dandy Seniors, if you must know. Well, I'm late for work. I wish you all the best!”

“And you too, Dandy. Good day to you.”

I wondered if aerial autocarjacking could become a thing in New City. With nefarious thoughts like that, I could be readmitted to Dr Fisher’s lab of fun.

I shouted out “Eff doctor F! Freedom! Free at last!” That was a lot of effing.

The trouble with moving on is that you always end up taking quite a large piece of yourself with you.

***

It wasn’t long before we drew up outside Skyway 3877, the name of my new abode. The balcony extended outwards for the autotaxi to connect with, and a familiar type of frosty glass swished over the top, presumably for safety's sake. I scanned my bankcard, it bleeped, and I left the autotaxi, remembering to collect my small holdall from the back. And that was that! The vehicle moved off and in I went as I heard the slow whirr of the balcony returning to normal.

Tadaima! I passed a few spiky plants and opened the balcony door with a retina scan. I entered the spacious lounge, the aircon coming on instantly, stealthily reading my biofeedback and adjusting the settings to suit.

The lounge was modern but a bit retro, certainly in the style of a trendy Dublin city apartment back 100 years before. There were digital photo frames on the walls that were showing stylish gardens. The sofa looked so comfy! Yeah, I’d definitely be spending considerable time here, I thought as I sank into it, and it auto-reclined for me. Soothing music came on (the facility had forwarded my tastes) and very quickly I started feeling at peace, with a growing sense of being at home. Finally.

My holophone bleeped. A 3D representation of a famous local hypermarket came on, promising me free delivery within the hour as a promotion. I started selecting recommended products for me, going off a list that a guard called Geoff discussed with me in the days before I knew I’d be released. I still had plenty of patches of the bluey-green super goop left though, as I continued to transition to a futuristic diet.

I selected ‘Potato Fingers’ – which looked identical to what we used to call ‘chips’ – and a big box of ‘Chicken Ovulations From Frustrated But Happy Chickens: BioConcepts’. Then some ‘Navy Beans In Tomato-Inspired Sauce’. Someone desperately needs to have a word with their marketing department. Then, I looked for drinks to top it off and, not surprisingly, I didn’t find anything approaching an alcohol or party section. Fine by me, I supposed. I did select Chill Juice (hoping it wasn’t misspelt Chili Juice) and something called Millipede Megaquake I vaguely remembered hearing about. It had a double-plus red warning for sugar, which was perhaps a bit over the top considering diabetes and probably tooth decay were obsolete. But hey.

While I was waiting, I went into the bathroom. I’m not a real estate agent, so I’ll keep the description light. It was nice, and mildly futuristic without me thinking I was in space. It had a big bath – I missed baths. And then, the kitchen. Great. Like what you’d expect from a decent apartment in a modern city. Breakfast bar, plenty of space, not too big for one person to feel lonely in. All retro-modern but with nifty tech touches you wouldn’t expect. For example, there was a hydration monitor by the water dispenser that could scan all your cells in one go and advise you how much fluid intake you needed at that precise moment. Funky! The self-cleaning oven was super smart, just calculating cooking times effortlessly and regulating heat optimally. Optimum this and optimum that, everywhere. Oh, and a talking bin which moonlighted as a therapist and a comedian – How you bin? I bin good. Don’t let yourself waste away, eat something. How could I refuse? Future throwaway conversations with it were sure to be peppered with…trash talk. Sorry for that load of rubbish. I was in that sort of state of mind, and yes, I acted all that out with the bin. Well, I was briefly amused, anyway.

There were two large bedrooms. One had a small computer table in the corner, and a fold-up bed, plenty of wardrobes and cupboards. Clearly, that would be my work area – depending on what my work would come to be. And probably, a bit of a dumping ground for me, should I start to hoard. I would fill it with some fitness equipment, if there weren’t any local gyms. Guess I had to do some research.

I wandered into the second bedroom. Nice! Dominating the room, there was a comfy-looking double bed with an e-mattress that scanned your back daily, always countering your stresses and strains. Or so the mini-brochure claimed, lying opened on the satin tiger-striped duvet.

Tiger-striped…hang on.