Grace is working on a new story for us. This one will be in three parts….the next two installments will be on the blog next week, so be sure to check back for the rest of the story.
Work here is slow. I guess people just don’t care for food any more…they’ve been delivering the government’s “Health Packets.” Who could eat that kind of stuff? All I know is that we were wondering when you would get the week off? Your bird misses you! Oh, and by the way, Mom said hello. (Smiles)
I stuck the letter into the mail shoot and entered my public name into the computer. “Mary 10230.43.” I stepped onto the platform and entered the code.
“Welcome to your perfect government’s mail system. Please say your public name and your address.”
“Mary 1023.43. Address. Apartment 3042. Street. 223.”
“Welcome, MARY 10230.43. Would you like to send your letter to your father, BOB 10230.267?”
“Thank you for choosing your perfect government’s mail system. Remember, all you need to know is that your government is perfect. Thank you.”
“She says that like I have a choice,” I grumbled. Life here is simple and useless, anyone could tell you. It’s like the year 6043 is meant to be that way, though everybody knows that something is happening outside the border.
I walk to the apartments, the only ones on the planet, and the ones that I am “privileged” to live in. I step into the elevator and enter my room number. Room 3042, second floor, left. I enter it just like that. The wires hum as I am lifted off the ground. I walk into my house and sit down at the table. Dinner has arrived. I open the package and look at the contents. A banana for flavor, milk for protein, and the small bowl of mush for the rest.
“I own a restaurant and I still have to eat the same thing that the pigs get.”
“At least you don’t try to eat the banana peel,” my mother says. We are not allowed to greet one another, so I’m not surprised that she didn’t say hello. I give my mother a hug and ask her if I have to do anything today.
“Well, there’s just one thing, and it’s quick. The “perfect government” wants you to perform at the Lobster Basket at noon. Sorry I can’t come with you, but I just got a call from work, and they want me to come work on some ‘Top Secret Project.’ Oh, and some words of wisdom, don’t become an astrophysicist when you get a real job.” She smiled. I slumped to my room and got out my best dress, the same one I wore when I went to watch a ballet a few months ago. It’s black with some red designs on the skirt. I hate it, but it is the only dress that still fits me. I was about to tie my hair up when I got a call on the P.I.P, or Personal Information Processor. It was the owner of the Lobster Basket.
“Livia, I mean, Mary 10230.43, there has been a slight change in plans…