Smith - Strange Future

Strange Future: A 23rd Century Guide for the21st Century Cynic

Joshua Smith

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Joshua Smith

Find additional free content, informationabout the sequel, and more at http://www.strangefuture.com/

FOREWORD:

According to some scientists, there are aninfinite number of universes. Some of these universes are sobizarrely different from ours that we can't possibly begin todescribe what they must be like...

Others are nearly exactly the same as ours,with the exception of one tiny detail. For instance, there is auniverse somewhere that is a carbon copy of this one, except inthat universe, you put on blue socks this morning instead of whiteones...

If this theory is true, then it means thatsomewhere there is a universe where the following story is NOT astory. Somewhere there is a universe where the events describedherein have actually occurred...

Let's hope that the theory is wrong.

Chapter 1:

The world was a strange and scary place.Across the globe, world governments fought cold wars behind closeddoors. Corporations used their vast amounts of money to buy offpoliticians to get laws passed that would help them make even moremoney. Computers had become the norm, and people were using theseimmensely powerful tools to do equally immense tasks and performterrible crimes. The climate was changing due to pollution andother unnatural human activities, but very few could seem to acceptthis fact, and those who didn't fought endless, bitter battles withthe ones who did.

This was all rather depressing, butfortunately, this is not the point of this story. This story isabout one man. His name was Thomas. He was twenty-five years old,average height, had thick, brown hair, green eyes, glasses, and wasjust plain fed up with the world. Everything he saw was alldepressing, all the time. And what's worse, he had the horriblefeeling that soon, the entire mess of it all would result inseveral major cities exploding into giant, fiery balls that wouldbe visible from space. This, of course, was a very bad thing. ButThomas tried not to think about that too much. Indeed, he spentvery little time thinking about anything except for work...

Beep beep beep beep beep!

Thomas groaned and wondered what time it was.He looked over at the clock and groaned again when he got hisanswer: 5:00 AM. He groaned once more as he swung his legs onto thefloor and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. He feltas if he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. This was, of course,entirely possible. He wasn't quite sure when he had gotten to bedlast night. All he remembered was doing paperwork until the numbersbecame indistinguishable from letters, at which point he decidedthat it probably wasn't wise to continue working. He got up andstumbled towards the bathroom, mentally reviewing his to-dolist.

Finish checking and organizing papers.Transfer key points of speech to note cards. Grab something forbreakfast. Catch the subway. Stop over on 33rd to pick up the drycleaning. Get to office before 8:00. Thomas stopped moving histoothbrush back and forth. Something caught his eye. Could it be...No, that wasn't possible. He spit then looked again. Maybe itwas... He leaned in towards the mirror to get a closer look.

"Gotta be kidding me..." Thomas said quietly.He looked intently and saw that it was, indeed, a gray hair. "I'moverworked," Thomas muttered as he exited the bathroom. He quicklygot dressed, deciding to wear a navy colored suit instead of hisusual black. After taking care of the papers and note cards, he ranto the kitchen to grab something to eat. A bagel sounded good.Thomas reached for an onion bagel, then realized he had alreadybrushed, and grabbed a plain one instead. He found his briefcaseand threw everything in. He started to run out the door, thenpaused and laughed at himself. He opened the briefcase again,pulled the bagel back out, and took a bite as he left and lockedthe door behind him.

Thomas walked briskly down the hallwaytowards the elevators. He stole a look at his watch andrealized--with quite a bit of surprise--that he was actually ontime. Perhaps he would take the stairs instead. A bit of extraexercise would do him some good, and fifteen floors of stairs wouldcertainly get his heart pumping. He dashed to the left, burstthrough the doors, and began running down the stairs asquickly--and carefully--as he could. Finally he reached the firstfloor landing, panting but feeling much more awake andenergized.

"Morning Mr. Gordon," Bill the doorman saidas Thomas approached.

"Morning Bill," Thomas said in response.

"Off to work early again I see," Bill said.He smiled the all-knowing smile of an old friend.

"Yeah, as always. At least I'm on time thismorning." Thomas chuckled. "Say Bill, you ever wonder what thepurpose to this rat race we call life is?"

"Every day, Thomas," Bill said with a deepexhale.

"Really? Found an answer yet?"

"Nope."

"Well that's a shame. Oh well... I've gottarun. Catch you later Bill!"

"Have a good day, Thomas!" Bill yelled afterhim.

"I'll try!" Thomas shouted over his shoulderas he rushed out the door. As Thomas walked north on Park Avenuetowards 86th, the cold winter air set in, making him shiver. WhenThomas was younger, he had loved winter. The sledding, fortbuilding, snowball fights, and the slight chance of a snow day madeit all worth it. Now that he was all grown up and part of theworking world, he hated winter with a passion. He had long sincecontemplated moving to a warmer climate, but couldn't bring himselfto do it. He wasn't at all attached to his job, but he had a greatcondo, and about twenty years worth of memories holding him in hisplace. Thomas sighed as the subway station came into sight when herounded the corner on 86th. Another day, another commute.

Thomas bounded down the steps into thestation. He swiped his MetroCard, passed through the turnstile, andjoined a throng of fellow commuters on the downtown platform. Asthey stood and waited, a 5 express train roared through thestation. Thomas looked at his watch. He still had plenty of time. Aminute later, a 4 pulled into the station.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the conductorannounced, "this is a Brooklyn bound express train. Express! If youwant local stops, wait for the six, which should be right afterthis one." Thomas would normally take the express, but had to getoff at a local stop to pick up the dry cleaning, so he waited."Stand clear of the closing doors... Stand clear...Hey! You withthe hat! In or out already!" The doors closed and the traindeparted. True to the conductor's word, a six pulled in less than aminute later. The doors opened and Thomas boarded, miraculouslyfinding a seat.

"This is the six local train. Next stop is77th Street. Stand clear of the closing doors." The train departedwithout incident, and Thomas settled in for the ride. The drycleaners was near the 33rd Street station, so Thomas had quite afew stops to go through before he got off. Thomas began going overhis mental checklist again to pass the time and ensure he hadn'tforgotten anything, pausing where needed to hear the conductor'sannouncements.

"This is Grand Central station," theconductor said after a time. "Connections can be made here to theA, C, E, N, Q, W, R, and S trains. If you want any other letters ofthe alphabet, you're out of luck. Next stop, 33rd Street." Thomassat up and got his things together. Moments later, the trainstopped and Thomas made his way to the street. He walked a shortdistance and entered the dry cleaners. He approached the unmannedcounter, expecting to see someone coming from the back, but no onewas visible. Thomas hesitated, then rang the bell next to theregister. Silence. Thomas sighed and turned around to watch thetraffic on the street behind him. The sun was rising ever higher,signaling Thomas that he would be late if he didn't get this drycleaning and get back on the subway soon. He turned around to ringthe bell again, but was surprised to see a man now standing at theregister, looking at Thomas impatiently.