After The Storm
Published in

After The Storm

SCIENCE FICTION

Generation Escape

We have no future if we are not fighting for one.

Photo by Morgan Housel on Unsplash

Vinicius Silva has put his house up for sale, but no one seems to have the slightest interest in living next to a cop. As a matter of fact, no one wants to live next to any member of the Willey family. They constantly listen to loud music from early in the morning (when “mom Willey” does her loud aerobic exercises in the garden) until late at night (when “young Willey” listens to heavy metal music or the rest of the family habitually yells at each other — what choice do they have with the music blaring).

After a few weeks of living next to this hell, Silva can’t even remember the last good night of sleep he had.

And every day, something new gets on his nerves: someone cuts the line at the coffee shop; an attendant delivers a wrong request; an asshole gets a promotion; or an even bigger asshole gets re-elected president of the United States.

On just another morning in his everyday hateful routine, Silva wakes up, and he feels like nothing good could come out from any future day of his life ever again. Pissed, he prepares his breakfast until…

“Is life giving you a hard time? CryoCorp has the right answer for your problem,” announced the TV commercial.

Silva’s ears perked up.

“You don’t feel you belong to this generation? Or you just want to start all over again? Now you can! Sign one of our plans and chill out until things get better. To achieve your dream of living in the future, just call 581–899…”

Before the announcer could say all the numbers flashing on the screen, Silva already finished dialing.

That very same day, Silva closes a deal with a CryoCorp salesman, “Your lawyers and investment advisers gonna take care of your money, property, and car, and you will certainly wake up 15% to 25% richer in 2094. Here, Mr. Silva, this is the place where you will be frozen for 98 years,” says the salesman.

“Ok, where do I sign? (…) Done. Just put me in the fridge.”

54 years later…

(1) by Erda Estremera on Unsplash. (2) by @k0 on Unsplash. (3) by Judeus Samson on Unsplash.

Silva gets out of the cryogenic fridge, and he feels like he has awoken from the best sleep he had in his entire life.

“Mr. Silva? Welcome to the future. We had to wake you 40 years earlier than planned. It’s not even legal to keep someone frozen for more than 50 years now.”

“Ok… But what about my money?”

“Our company is not doing so well, but you have almost the same money you had back in 1994. Minus some administrative fees, of course… Oh! And your lawyer ordered me to deliver you these things: a cellphone, your car keys, a letter informing the amount of money you have in your bank account, and here is a present from your cousin.”

Silva notices a swastika tattoo on the neck of the CryoCorp salesman.

Silva reads the letter informing how much money he has now, and he seems very unhappy with it. Then he takes a look at the present his cousin left him.

Silva pulls out a gun from the bag his cousin left him and shoots the nazi several times.

Back home, the entire neighborhood seems to be full of “Willeys,” all worse off than in 1994. Worse yet, “nazi-Willeys” have invaded his house for a barbecue.

Silva sneaks into the house and creates a gas leak in the kitchen, and in less than a few minutes, everything blows up.

“Hello, I want to speak with my lawyer,” says Silva on the cellphone as he enters his car after the explosion.

His lawyer is young and has recently graduated from law school. Silva meets with him inside his car.

“I’m happy to meet you, Uncle Silva. And I believe I must inform you about a few things. First: the cryo-effect. People 50–80 years ago believed the future was going to be a better place. However, since they weren’t in the past fighting for it, it didn’t turn out that way. Second: you are a ‘coolie’. People here hate you, and not only because you are Black. The United States is now an irrelevancy on the periphery of the developed world, and China is the new center of the world, and everyone blames the ‘coolies’ for it. And I don’t know if you noticed, but there are nazis everywhere now… Oh! Here is the password of your bank account, and here are all your documents.”

“Can I sleep at your home, kid?”

“Sure… On the couch, maybe.”

“Just remind me again. Why am I more than ten times poorer now?”

“If they had woken you up 15 years ago, you would be doing fine. But the CryoCorp company started to face too many judicial issues, and their financial condition worsened. In fact, they are waking people up now just to cut costs.”

“I understand… Now, since you are my lawyer, I must inform you I shot a nazi back at CryoCorp, and I exploded a few more at my home.”

“Your home? I’m afraid I must inform you that wasn’t your home anymore.”

“Really? Ok. I hated it anyway…”

“Let’s get inside. My mom made lunch for us,” says the lawyer.

“You still live with your mom?”

“Everyone does.” Silva faints. “Silva? Uncle Silva?!”

He wakes up later on the couch.

“Uncle Silva? He is waking up, mom! CryoCorp didn’t give you any medicine?”

“No… That nazi motherfucker…” says Silva, still dizzy.

“You will probably feel a bit under the weather for the next 15 days. And I think you should rest.”

“There is no need… Thanks… Where is my gun?”

His nephew/lawyer responds: “What are you thinking you are going to do, man?”

“I just want to blow up the CEO of CryoCorp…”

“Oh man, you can’t leave here in your current state.”

“I really don’t care… And don’t worry about me…”

Silva drives to the first drug dealer he can find. He finds a kid.

“Hey… I’m a coolie.”

The kid spits on him.

“I have money…”

The kid cleans the spit.

“I need to stay awake and well. What do you have for me?”

“I can keep you awake, but I can’t keep you well.”

Now Silva is under the effect of a good pack of drugs that will keep him awake with only a few side-effects.

He drives to the CryoCorp building.

“2044, and things are still the same,” he whispers while he looks at the cleaning staff, all Black people, entering the building by the back entrance.

He steps up to one of the Black men and says, “I can transfer you some money. Just let me work for you today.”

The man refuses until Silva shows him his gun.

Silva looks around for the CEO, and he almost finds him but passes out. A colleague puts him in a “cleaning staff room.”

Silva wakes up in the middle of a party and disguises himself as a waiter.

Silva finds the CEO alone in his office and says, “You are dead.”

The CEO tries to convince Silva to buy a new cryogenic future plan. A better one.

Silva says, “Why don’t YOU freeze and name me CEO of this company. That’s right. I will freeze you, and I will become the CEO of this company.”

“But wait…” says the CEO.

“Wait, my ass,” concluded Silva.

Silva forces the CEO to record a video, which they present at the party. It names Silva the newly appointed CEO of the company.

But a helicopter arrives announcing that the Chinese government has nationalized the company. This news is what the CEO had wanted to tell Silva.

Silva starts shooting at the Chinese, and the company’s security guards start shooting at the Chinese too. The helicopter falls and kills almost everyone, and Silva faints.

Silva wakes up and watches the news on a broken cell phone of a lady killed by the helicopter crash.

The news reports what happened in the CryoCorp building, and it shows United States government officers claiming that the helicopter crash was a Russian maneuver against the United States. China believes this report and threatens immediately to drop an atomic bomb in the middle west of the United States in retaliation.

Afraid of the radiation, Silva awakens the CEO, shoots him, and takes his place in the fridge.

…Silva awakes 54 years later.

Things have now changed in the United States. Chinese robots control everything, and Silva gets a cozy home, a job on an apple farm, and everything is better now.

The End.

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A. P. Bird

A. P. Bird

Top-writer in Science. M.A. in Philosophy. Some of my favorite science fiction are Metropolis and King Kong. alexand3r.bird@gmail.com