What a World We Live In

I coughed as I stood in line for my number. I felt miserable, my throat hurt and my face ached. It was at least warm inside the building, warm enough that I felt comfortable taking off the heavy jacket that was still dripping slightly. The snow that had collected on the fabric had long since melted, adding to the small puddles created by those in front and behind me who had felt the same change in temperature upon entering the facility. None of them were any better off than me, most seemed in a worse way, either financially or physically. Many seemed afflicted with the same cold that was troubling me. There was a woman in a wheelchair that I would consider to be antique. It wasn’t powered, and the plastic platforms for her feet, which should have been next to the small wheels at the front were simply missing; either broken or never there to begin with. She didn’t seem to mind, she smiled as she wheeled herself closer to the front of the line. I noticed she was an amputee and probably couldn’t afford prosthetics. She wore a hand-knitted shawl and cap, with matching mittens all made from the same skein, another oddity in these times.

The future isn’t bleak, but it probably isn’t what we all had expected. Especially since we all thought we were going to burn the planet of its resources. Understand, it wasn’t like we had all woken up one day and decided that changes needed to be made but after several devastating disasters, people began to realize we didn’t have much of a choice. The world didn’t look much different from when it had during my father’s time, at least according to him. There are still the tall buildings, the rural hubs, and the occasional quaint vistas, as well as planes and cars but everything is made to be more efficient and cleaner. Fossil fuels became a long-forgotten concept and many chronic diseases had been eradicated as there was an increase in trust with the medical professionals after a devastating pandemic. I just wished they could sort out the terrible cough that seemed to go around every six months or so.

It certainly isn’t perfect; I found myself contemplating the existence of world hunger and unfortunate wars over some of the more precious resources. Racism and bigotry still exist; many have come to believe it is endemic to some parts of society, but at least everyone gets paid the same wage no matter the genitals, and wealth is not so privatized. There are still rich people, but they won’t stay that way if they don’t contribute to the overall good. None of us will, we all have to do our part. I stepped forward and took my number from the small machine: D88. Looks like it was worth camping out in front of the establishment or I would be one of the losers getting Z-something.

The building is pleasant and bland, with soft music playing in the background. Too low for me to hear the lyrics but loud enough for me to enjoy the melody. The waiting room is comfortable with well-cushioned chairs, and watch pads tucked next to each chair so the patients can enjoy shows, news, or browse the internet while they wait. It isn’t too warm given the cold winter, but in retrospect, it was a lot better than having to try to survive another ice age. I shuddered grimly as some long-repressed memories resurfaced, or perhaps maybe dreams. Maybe I had watched a scary show recently. Lost in thought, I would have never heard my number called if it wasn’t for the gentle chime that sounded from the token I had taken from the machine. I nodded to the nurse as he ushered me to the examination room. This one looked a lot more like an operating room than I was expecting, but the thought left my head as soon as it entered while I took a seat in the large reclining chair. It isn’t a perfect world, but we all must help and at least my mind is still healthy.

“We need to find a better way than the colds to bring them in for their tune-ups. This delusion projection is almost fried.” The surgeon commented as he pulled the thin chip free from the slot in the patient’s skull. It was long like a needle and should have been see-through like glass. Blood dripped from the blackened, slender spike as the nurse handed a fresh, clear spike to the physician. “We don’t need the plebs waking up and seeing reality.” He chuckled as he jammed the new chip in and gave it a light flick to turn it on. “We still need people to order around and consume. We can’t all be drones.” There was a laugh that the patient interpreted as a fond farewell, leaving the pleasant exam room without so much as a sniffle as the next fool was called in.