A Voice From The Future
MegaCity 1 was looking grim on Sunday morning. It always did, but on this particular Sunday, it was grim in the “it is going to piss down all day” sort of grim.
Cornelius Coffin stood at the window of his residential unit, watching the rain bounce off everything. And coating it with a damp glow.
He—
“Hello, Andy. I’m from the future. Weird, I know. But get used to it. I need a word with you.”
“Er, hello? Cornelius?”
“Yes, Andy. It is me. I’m from the year 2035 by I’m using my new Neural Time Loop upgrade in my implant. Cost me a wedge of credits. But it works.”
“Indeed, although you know you are a character in a short story, right?”
“Hahahahaha! You people really were dummies back in… 2025? Pfft! Short stories! I’m as real as the Deck you are typing on.”
“It is 2025. And this is a short story. Featuring your good self—“
“Mate, don’t piss about. You’ve had your laugh. I’ve got an appointment with a Zaponian Medical Inspector in a bit. They think there is something unhealthy about me because I mooned a traffic camera and they noticed a rash on my arse cheek.”
(Readers, I’m trying to break it to him as gently as I can, ok?)
“Yep, I wrote that. That story. Where you birdied one speed trap and mooned it on the way back home.”
…
“You wrote it?”
“I did.”
“Well, do me a favour, then. Write a futuristic take on a situation where the Zaponians stop nicking my cheese sandwiches. Oh and they all bugger off back to Zapoia. Or whatever planet they are from.”
“While that would be quite a story, my readers probably like your exploits. It would be a shame for you not to have the Behavioural Bollards and Law Bots to fall out with.”
“Oh, well, thank you very much! Never mind me here, in my crap residential unit, where it is pissing down all the time and we can’t get a decent cup of tea anywhere. But, that’s alright. I’ll suffer, as long as your so-called readers are alright!”
(I think he killed the link, readers.)
Cornelius sat down in is armchair, the only furniture he had in the unit aside from a foldout bed. He called up his wetware keyboard and writing app and started writing.
“It was the year 2025 and a writer called Andy wrote about a renegade net runner hero called Cornelius….”
“Exaggeration violation: case 1/CC filed.”
A drone appeared outside his window, gleaming in the rain. Its neon lights flashed.
“What the fuck?”
“Language violation. Case 1010/1 filed.” Squawked the drone.
“You Zaps are using spy drones on us now?”
“Not a spy drone. Your neural link triggered an ambiguity warning. I am a protocol drone.”
Cornelius sighed. And typed:
“Andy, the git. Had me being monitored by bloody drones so I couldn’t even tell my story with a bit of artistic flair…”