- Imagine a future world where technology has advanced beyond our wildest dreams. Describe a day in the life of someone living in this world.
I rouse from a shallow slumber. Glancing at the clock, I realize I have been asleep for a matter of minutes. My night yawns in front of me. I trip out of bed and fumble for the remote to adjust the lighting in my room. The lights reveal a bit of a mess and I sigh while calculating a path across my cluttered floor.
I throw on a robe and head out the door. Stepping outside, I am met with perfumed air and brightly lit billboards advertising “A Unique Journey to the Stars.” Today, anyone with enough cash can travel freely on Earth…and off. I am not among the lucky ones who have mastered capitalism in such a way that I can take advantage of the possibility of interstellar travel. Still, I am reminded daily by these gaudy advertisements that this innovation is available…for a price.
Hopping on the metro, I tear open a bag of protein balls to chew as I ride. Three stops down the line, an elderly woman boards the train and chooses the seat across from me. I see her shuffle a deck of worn cards with her bejeweled, arthritic fingers.
The wind outside the train whirs against the windows at an eerie high pitch. A man who seems to temporarily be residing within this train car snores steadily in his seat. I notice the elderly woman regarding my disheveled attire with pursed lips and I assume she disapproves of my choice of ensemble. It is rare to see someone her age outside of an assisted living home in this era of youthful splendor, so I admire her courage.
“Chloe, am I correct?”
Startled, I confirm my name is Chloe. Then, I begin to rack my brain, trying to remember when I might have met this stranger.
“Don’t worry, my dear. You wouldn’t remember me. But I remember you. And I am delighted our paths have crossed tonight. Would you like a reading?”
I accept her offer. After all, I am trying to kill time. And not doing a good job of killing time, to begin with. I could use some entertainment.
“Chloe, choose three cards. The first will represent your past. The second, your present. And, the third, your future.”
Casually, I choose three cards. As soon as I am finished choosing, my friend’s face takes on a strange pallor. She seems frightened by my choice of cards, like the three slips of board might rise up and bite her face. I assume this must be some sort of scam, but I feel deeply unsettled by her expression.
“It can’t be that bad.” I reassure her. “Here, did you want some change? It’s all I have on me.” At this point, I would be happy to hand her some coins and be on my way.
“A curse lies on your heart and troubles your soul. The spirits that haunt you bring great misfortune and I fear for you and those in proximity to you. Best of luck, I must be on my way.”
With that, the strange old lady collects herself and exits the train. Shrugging, I reach in my bag and pull out my headphones. It certainly isn’t unusual for me to encounter a stranger who wants to engage in some way when I am out wandering on a sleepless night. Still, I am left with a vaguely uncomfortable pit in my stomach as a result of the interaction.
As I untangle the cord of my analog ear buds, an announcement blares, letting the passengers know we are reaching the end of the line. It is truly the middle of the night. I should be at home, sleeping, if not for my restless mood.
The beating chorus of the music I have chosen lulls me into a daze as I continue my journey. When the train car’s door slides open to reveal a few stragglers wandering on, I decide to shut my eyes and try to rest. However, I am interrupted at once by a commotion across from my seat.
A stray cat seems to have boarded the train right as the doors were closing. The cat is frantic to get out of the enclosed space of the train, and some passengers near the cat have begun to panic. The frenzy seems to agitate the cat even more than the closed space.
I feel an urge to help, if I can. I decide to shoo the cat off the train using my open bag as the doors to the train slide open for the next stop, but as I do so, my phone slips out of my bag and falls down the tracks. Startled, I impulsively leap onto the platform, but as the train pulls away, it immediately crushes my phone beneath its rapidly spinning wheels.
Stranded, I shiver with anxiety. With the current political situation, people have become wary of lending a stranger their phone, even for a quick call. At this time of night, I would have to be lucky to find a public phone to call for help. With the way my night has gone, that stroke of luck does not seem likely.
I wander out of the station, flustered and dejected, and walk towards city center with the hope of finding a lone taxi. Normally, I would order a car on my phone, but without that option, I focus on spotting a flash of yellow on a street filled with parked cars and trash.
A well-fed rat scurries across my path. I cross the street and, to my surprise, I come across the tarot-reading elderly lady from the metro. As I walk up to her, she looks at me without recognition in her eyes.
Concerned about her safety, I approach her.
“Can I help you get home, m’am?” I ask her.
“I am always home.” She replies. “Might I inquire your name, dear?”
“I’m Chloe. We met on the train just now. You gave me a reading.”
“I understand.” She answers me. “Some people require their fortune to be told. In fact, fortunes are not just for people.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask.
“Well, look at me. I am not flesh and blood, but I have a fate. And so do you.”
“You aren’t flesh and blood? You look alive to me.” I answer.
“Appearances are not always what they seem. I am an amalgamation of human thought. And so are you, Chloe.”
And with that, I awaken.