Drone-camera glides about my darken digs. Paint peeling away. Windows broken. No matter since it’s now high summer year-round. Half curled yellowed poster of Jimmy Hendrix on the wall. A water replicator in the kitchen as piped was cut off years ago in the rationing. Some tattered comics scattered about.
My old flat screen in the corner. Unused in over a decade since everything is in the Cloud. The camera slowly floats up. It’s 2044 I’m 94 and reclined in my old reading chair. IV nutrients, and cocaine cola stabbed into my functioning veins.
These feedings maintained by “Satan on Wheels”.
A private charity that filled the niche left when Medicare Social Security, and kindness were defunded. I’m wearing a sniper proof vest, and helmet. Got my FCC elder-plan VR-AI goggles on, and I’m happily in dream-realm. I wander the “Neo-Woodstock Dadaist Ballet”.
My “Satan-on Wheels” do-gooder home visitors check my signs…yep breathing, and brain waves still there. Online status…still in the “Ballet” and with a meds induced big bleep-eating grin on my aged face. The crew signs off on my account. They go next door to check on the 110-year-old retired fireman. That guy is always downloading “West World” …thinks he’s a robot cowboy. It’s the end of the world, but everybody’s happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment