It’s been so many years. Living through the tears With all our fears You are my best dear

“Tell me your regrets.”

“I like to think that I don’t have any.”

“You’ve lived life to the fullest?”

“More like lived it too fast.”

“How would you have slowed it down?”

“It kinda did a bit ago.”

“When the gun was at your forehead?”

“…Yeah.”

“No need to be hesitant, I was there.”

“You knew?”

“It was written.”

“Ah. Are you death?”

“You seem disappointed.”

“Just hoping for an angel. Maybe my mom. Thought you were my friend.”

“I am. Death is something that follows you your entire life, you know.”

“Did you somehow convince me to kill myself?”

“I must follow what is written. Otherwise the works will turn sideways.”

“Are you really my friend?”

“I did care about you, cried at your funeral.”

“Thanks. Big turnout?”

“Sure. Your boss even showed.”

“Hm. That’s cool. So now what happens?”

“We leave.”

“To where?”

“Whatever comes next.”

“Do you know?”

“No, actually. I’ve never been. I have a job to do.”

“Gonna convince someone else to buy a gun?”

“My next job is to be a drunk driver.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes. It hurts very much.”

“Where do you think I’m going?”

“Onto a train. I’m not sure what the destination is.”

“Oh. You were a really good friend, you know.”

“I try to be.”

“No, really. You were amazing. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll try to miss you too.”

Friend A: (sipping a glowing, neon-blue beverage) You know, back in the early 21st century, people used to carry these tiny devices called "smartphones." They could fit in your pocket and do everything—texting, calling, even browsing the internet.

Friend B: (raising an eyebrow) Seriously? That sounds so primitive. What did they look like?

Friend A: (laughs) Well, they were rectangular, with glass screens, and you'd tap on them with your fingers. Imagine a mini-computer that you carried around everywhere. People were obsessed with them.

Friend B: (leaning back) And what about socializing? Did they still meet up in person?

Friend A: Oh, definitely! But they also had these virtual hangouts called "social media." You'd post pictures, share your thoughts, and connect with people from all over the world. It was like having a global party in your pocket.

Friend B: (grinning) Sounds intriguing. But tell me, did they still have those old-fashioned cars with wheels?

Friend A: (nodding) Yep, they did. But get this—they were working on self-driving cars! Can you imagine? Vehicles that could navigate themselves without a driver. It was both exciting and terrifying.

Friend B: (leaning in) And what about space travel? Did they finally explore other planets?

Friend A: Oh, absolutely! They sent rovers to Mars, and some even dreamed of colonizing other planets. But the real breakthrough was when they discovered a way to fold space itself. Wormholes, they called them. Suddenly, the universe felt smaller.

Friend B: (wide-eyed) Wait, wait. You're telling me they could fold space like origami? That's wild!

Friend A: (grinning) Wild indeed. And speaking of wild, they had this thing called "climate change." The Earth's temperature was rising, and they were desperately trying to save the planet. Renewable energy, electric cars, planting trees—it was a race against time.

Friend B: (reflective) It's incredible how much they accomplished. But did they ever crack the code to immortality?

Friend A: (leaning in, whispering) Well, rumor has it that a secretive group called the "Eternalists" figured it out. They say they're still around, hidden in plain sight, living for centuries. But who knows? Maybe they're just a legend.

Friend B: (raising their glowing drink) To the past, the present, and the future—may it be even more mind-boggling than we can imagine!

Friend A: (clinking their glass) Cheers to that!

“ Its been about what, 15 years?” Krissy gasped. Her old pre-school pal, Jake, was standing before her. “ Prolly’ more.” Jake muttered, glancing at his phone, he seemed impatient. “ I swear you look far different!” Krissy grinned, leaning in for a hug, but Jake simply pulled away. “ Nah, dont do that fam. Barely even know you my G.” He scratched the top of his head as Krissy blinked in confusion. “ I’ve been studying about animals . . . ” She murmured. “ Its giving ‘ Erm, actually?’ ” Jake chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. Krissy’s lip twitched with annoyance. “ My grandma also passed away last year, car accide—” “ Womp womp.” Jake interrupted. He blinked, and let out a laugh, that mingled with a cough, turning into a weird choking wherze sound. “ Did you just say womp womp?” She gasped. Be nodded, biting his lip. “ How’s my jaw line? I’ve been mewing for a few months.” With that, he proceeded to shush her, and began carressing his jaw line. “ That is morbid.” Krissy sniffed, “ Mewing sounds . . . Lovely.” She said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes. “ Yessir. Ight, I got somewhere to be, Karen. Buh -bye.” He sniffled, turning back to the way he came. “ My name isnt Karen . . . But it sounds lovely!” She called after him, unsure if what to do. That encounter made her uncomfy. “ Jit trippin . . . ” she gasped, “ What did I just say?!” She cried out.

“Looking good,” a voice said.

My satchel over one shoulder, I tried to squeeze past the stranger without looking up. After that pileup in St. Paul my whole body ached too much to be polite. I didn’t need to see the stranger to identify him. I could smell him, the heady mix of body odor and acetone, the perfume of one of my fellow long haul truckers.

A lot of us were hopped up on synth meth or some stimulant to get through the 48 hours drive shifts. A lot of us looked for a warm body to come down with. I couldn’t be bothered. I skirted around the other driver flashing my taser holster. The stranger got the message and returned to his pole by the rest stop entrance. Maybe the next driver would be in the mood for company. I walked inside.

Westbound Rest Stop Molly Pitchers 4 was one of the better stops. Reasonably clean and mostly safe, the Mollys were a reliable place to get fueled, hot food, a real shower, and a comfy cube. You taught me about truck stops during my training. Standing in line, I thought about your detailed rest stop rating system from Ritz Carlton to I wouldn’t let my dog piss here.

The scrawny rest stop clerk gave me a weird look. Thinking about you, I must be smiling. God, the kid probably thought I was flirting. I started removing my PPE to hide my embarrassment.

“Four thousand on pump 37, full hydraulics check. What’s the radiation forecast?” I asked as I raised my palm to be scanned.

“Eight tonight, down to three in 24,” the clerk said. “We’re have a special on showers, extra long with complimentary shampoo and conditioner for only 250 more.”

The clerk, a kid really hardly older than our boy, waggled his eyebrows at my shoulder length hair spilling out from my protective hood. I considered the extra five minutes but thought better of it. Like I always tell you the only deals are when your credits stay in your pockets.

“No, thanks but no thanks, I’ll take the standard single stay package with extra towels,” I said.

Sighing the clerk scanned my right hand. With my left, I slipped the clerk a chocolate bar. You showed me how to tip without triggering the surveillance cameras. The rest stop employees barely scraped by on their salaries and worked on commission from upselling. Food was the best way to get a nice sleep cube and a hassle free stay. I still remember when I was pregnant with Louie and ate all my bribes. I nearly froze to death at a stop in British Columbia.

“You’re in cube 85, newly renovated. Enjoy.”

Gear and extra towels under my arms, I headed for the corridor.

“Miss, my screen says you have a letter,” the clerk said stumbling over the last word.

My heart leapt. I didn’t think you would have enough time. I hurried back to counter. The clerk opened a safe and retrieved a plump envelope. Marvelling at the manilla sleeve, the teen turned the brown paper in his hands.

“Skrill, lady. Those scribbles mean you, like your name, right?”

“Yeah, it is called cursive. My old man still does things the old way. He’s extra.”

He handed me my letter. I slipped the envelope into my bunny suit against my skin. Suddenly lighter I hurried to my cube.

I followed the narrow corridor to my cube. I could hear faint moans and snoring coming from the other cubes. It wasn’t exactly newly renovated but it was clean and perfectly functional. Warm lights and the smell of lemony disinfectant greeted me. I climbed up the ladder with quick steps. Sealed my cube door behind me, I was ready for my family time.

Later, I would take a whore’s bath, eat my fill, and sleep like the dead. But for now my heart was beating fast against my letter. Ripping open the seal, photos of Louie and Chris pour out of the envelope. Chris must have gotten the parts for that old color printer. I go through each colorful image.

Five months on the road, five months of truck stops and deliveries from Newark to Portland, from Portland back to Jersey while my man hauled from Chicago to Tampa. Louie stayed home in Flint near my people. I swear Louis is a head taller than last time. I kissed the pictures of my guys.

Part of me wanted to savor the letter, to read it in bite sized pieces but soon I was devouring Chris’ stories. His latest hauls, Louie’s progress in school, extended family news, even after all these years he had a way of making every little thing an adventure. In his terrible scrawl Louie had written funny commentary in the margins.

Chris promised that in a month or two our schedules would realign and the three of us would be together for a real holiday. A staycation he called it. Reading and re-reading surrounded by photos, I could almost believe it would be true.

If I could design my life’s ideal sunset It would be simple

The birds are singing, And my porch is squeaking, From the back and forth of our rocking chairs

My best friend lives in the house next door to me She bought it when her kids moved out To be close to me Finally After these long 50 years

Today she walked over from her house Slowly, due to the hip replacement But still with spirit To enjoy the afternoon at my place Hanging out Laughing, drinking vodka lemonade and watching the lawn sprinklers

The sun is moving in and out of the trees As we sit here with nowhere to go

And it’s getting dark but We’ve agreed that we’re going to stay a few hours longer Without uttering one word about it

Because we speak our own secret language now: Contentment

Silence, Peace in doing nothing Appreciation of the crickets and the birds and the stars and each other

Because every big leap Big mistake, heartache Moment in which we thought we would break In our long, tumultuous lives Isn’t a source of anxiety anymore

But comfort

Because it means we’ve lived a life

I’ve spent my life drowning in an ocean of question marks Aging among them

But after all my turmoil recently That porch is my fantasy

How nice would it be To finally embrace the relief Of aching to be nowhere but Sipping cocktails Watching the sunset In rocking chairs Embracing nothing With her

“ hello 2684” “ Greetings 2697 What is on your mind?” “ Well, I would not like to embarrass myself…” “ 2697! you would never embarrass yourself in front of me.” The boy exclaimed. “ I have a burst for you.I would like to kiss you.” “ Slap! I feel the same way. And I consent.” “ Perfect. “ she said as she kissed him.

2684 then said “ Allas, What should we have as our brand?” “ I would like to say you are my boyfriend, text all night once a week and be awkward in person. Then every month we will kiss and kiss till our lips hurt and then pretend it never happened.”

The boy smiled “ Agreed. Oh, by the way, you have a SLAPPING gyatt!” The girl blushed as she flirted back “ Thank you my sweet”

DEFINITIONS Slap/ Slapping: Great. Awesome, Sounds good

“I have a burst for you”: A crush, Strong romantic feelings

Brand: label, such as dating, friends ect

Gyatt: big booty

NOTES: Everyones name is a number People are more direct with their feelings People are more open and do not hesitate Men and women are = Anyone can date anyone There are 8065 different genders Consent is valued Slang is often used Old language is often used

-HEHEHEHEHEH, sorry sorry… This is not far far in the future like 30 years far, but its far-ish-

Tess lies on the floor coughing up blood as Sarah sits next to her.

”You’ll be okay. I promise,” Sarah whimpers, trying to hold her tears.

Mattheo stands next to Sarah as he starts walking toward the enemy.

”Mattheo!” Tess coughs.

Aquene grabs his wrist.

”Don’t. We have to go.” She whispers.

Mattheo looks at her with raging eyes and pulls his arm away.

By the time Eli and Kali come in Mattheos already face-to-face with his “friend”.

”Oh how wonderful,” Eli sighs, scanning his surroundings.

”Kali! Come help me,” Sarah orders as they both wrap their arms around Tess standing her up.

“Mattheo forget about him,” Eli says.

“I saw snippets of this moments for weeks. I could never piece what was happening or why. First, you gain my trust. Then, you shoot my friend!” Mattheo screams.

”He will be fine. Lets go,” Sarah says as they all leave for a head start.

”Everything is connecting now. Now, I know why I did this,” Mattheo whispers as he punches the shocked man in the face, knocking him down.

”To think I could trust you,” Mattheo says coldly before leaving.

”I’m sorry,” Sam whispers, with a broken nose and broken faith.

NOTE: Hello fellow writers and readers! I got bored this morning and saw that there was a decent prompt today, so I was like ‘Hey! Why not?’ 😅 It isnt exactly the prompt 100%, but it has dialogue, and its in the future. I couldn’t think of a better title, sorry if its cheesy/ inaccurate (also forgive me if its bad, I kinda rushed through it.) Enjoy!!!! :)))))

 Al sipped his turquoise margarita as he watched Wil’s calculating focus on the holoboard. After a few moments, Wil’s mechanical face contorted in distaste. 
 “Oh come on,” he said, “that has to be against the rules.” He rubbed his wired neck in frustration.
 Al handed him the rulebook, and he flipped through it eagerly, searching for any indication that his adversary cheated.
 Meanwhile, Al was smiling at him like a cat with a cornered mouse.
 When Wil looked back at him, defeated, Al chuckled. “Have a little faith William, for it is not I who has anything to lose.”
 Wil narrowed his glass eyes at him, “How  do you know my name?”
 “You told me it only a few minutes ago,” Al replied slyly with a smirk, bringing his glass back to his lips.
 Wil could not recall this, yet there was a great possibility that he had just forgotten. He instead tried to bring his attention back to the board, but there was a uneasy feeling in his metal wiring that made it hard to focus. He surveyed the holographic game, and finally moved his piece to what seemed to be the only option left.
 His hand lifted off the peice before he realized his mistake. Wil cursed.
 Al grinned deviously. “Ah, ah, ah. My dear Wil, what have you done to yourself?”
 Wil glared at him with an unyeilding hatred in his eyes, “I’m gonna die anyways! What does it matter if I lose my independence to a fucking Flesher before then?!” He slammed his automatic fist on the table in outrage, secretly scolding himself for not looking harder.
 Al grinned brightly, “Oh I love it when you metal buffoons let off steam!” He swirled his drink giddily, “I can’t wait to add you to my collection.”
  Wil’s eyes widened with shock. “Yo-your a collector?” his chair screeched as he pushed away from Al’s toothy grin. 
  “No my dear,” he said wickedly, “I am The Collector.” Then Al moved his peice one last time.
 “I win.”
 Wil tumbled out of his seat and bolted for the door. 
 Only to find that it was locked.

“Do you think this was always the ultimimate reality?”

“What are you saying?”

“Is it true that the world was always going to turn out this way?”

“I guess. I mean, that’s what they teach. When have they ever been wrong?”

“Many, many times. You’ve seen it, human leaders are imperfect, and could be at fault at any given time.”

“The ones you speak of live in the past, when everyone was subject to their selfishness and gullible to their idle promises.”

“But what makes them different to our government now? They could be lying when they say we’ve lost hope, that the world has been destroyed beyond the point of restoration. How could we possibly know that’s true?”

“Back then, lying served a purpose. It benefited them, fulfilled their selfish desires at the time, they lied because they could. They could afford to neglect the survival of half the world, to lable it as a future problem. Look around now. Decease and decay is all you see, it’s your all your future layed right in front of you wherever you go. What good would lying be now?”

“It is wrong to hope things could still change?”

“Yes. People who hope die unsatisfied. Our dismay is the only thing we’re sure of, don’t ruin it with the allusion of hope.”

“Why teach us to survive then? If not to build a better future, for what purpose do we need to exist at all?”

“I’m not so sure. I have a feeling it had to do with leaving our pathetic lives with some dignity. Death is incomprehensible to most people, so living a little bit longer gives us time to make peace with it. They leave it up to us to realise death has become the only salution, and accomodate those who are in denile until then.”

“I can’t find it in me to accept it.”

“You will, better sooner than later.”

“Have you?”