Future Tense

A recent widower sets a long term suicide plan in motion after the isolation of modern society becomes too overwhelming. Set in the near future the government intervenes.

The clerk at the counter was wearing Happy 2031 sunglasses as she swiped his ID sensor across the band of light on the counter.

“Happy New Year sir,” she chirped, while bagging the few items that would essentially be the backdrop for what was not going to be a Happy New Year at all.

He trudged out into the cold grey slush that had been on the ground for about two weeks now, and made his way to the beaten up 35 year old Volvo that was miraculously still on the road through the vestiges of the provincial antique vehicle statute plating system.

He had decided nearly three weeks ago that his time on this mortal coil would be up just prior to the dropping of the New Year’s ball at City Hall. It was not so much the poignancy, but more the tax benefits of not living into another tax cycle. He didn’t want his kids to have to file another tax return almost 18 months after his death.

And that was David Turnbull’s practicality in a nutshell. Most people would sweat the details. How, when, who would find the body. He was more concerned about paper trails and extra work for his executor/son Will who lived in Vancouver.

It had been a slow build up to the decision to check out of what had become not such a great life. David decided the tipping point was the insidious introduction of personal controls by the provincial and federal governments, that began in earnest in the mid 20s. At that time most aspects of how a person lived their life became controlled by actuarial tables similar to setting driving insurance rates.

On paper it all kind of made a mad utopian sense, but in practice it was no way to live if you had known another life before it.

It started with the O-Health’s healthy food initiative in 2021. You could buy a bag of chips if you wanted, but you could only buy food in a two part manner. Swipe your O-health card and then pay based on your rate. If you had the wrong mix in terms of waistline, your most recent health report and your recent buying habits that bag of chips got real expensive. For a skinny person with no issues, it was $7.75. For David and his corpulent frame, $17.52 was the lowest price he could buy it for.

Sure, people lost weight and health costs were boosted by the sin-food tax transfer that came with each purchase. But the cost in terms of choice on how to live one’s life after having 100 per cent control prior to 2021, quickly created a new economy. Outside most major stores there would be a phalanx of slim people quietly touting their services. “Who needs O-Health credit?” These slim scalpers would buy the items that were outpriced and unavailable to those who sought it most. The $17.52 bag of chips came down to a more palatable $12, but of course O-Health saw none of the mark up.

Of course there was also the risk of undercover O-Health inspectors as well, so you really had to want those chips.

Next came the O-Health Alcohol monitoring cards. Go to a bar, buy a beer, swipe the card. If you had purchased too many in too short a time period, that beer would go up in price and if you really partied hard, you couldn’t buy a beer until your card reset in a few days in what O-Health coined “your transitional” phase.

In 2027 all new vehicles came with both built in alcohol sensors and sophisticated GPS interlocks and  on board systems that communicated with the government grid. They didn’t want to tell you what to do, but try driving to a point within a 2.5 km radius, say a corner store for some milk and then return home. As a penalty your car would then lock down for two hours. Of course they modified the system to allow for an emergency over-ride but that only worked with a release code from a 911 operator. There had been several incidents where operators either felt there was no emergency, or there were not enough operators and people died who could have gotten to a hospital for treatment.

The cars could also only access major metropolitan areas based on your perceived needs, time of day, time of week and other factors including work commitments within specific areas. If you did not pass the sniff test for those parameters your car would get shunted to a turn off ahead of the off-ramp based on what info the license plate reader fed back to the system.

David eased his old Volvo to the staging area of the on-ramp for the northbound highway. He chuckled as people looked on with alarm and incredulity that his car was allowed to mix with the modern self-driving vehicles that made up the majority of the traffic these days. He had installed a self-driving module but didn’t always use it because he actually still liked to drive. That meant having to drive in slowest lane and the highest toll, but it was his guilty pleasure. His vehicle was directed over one more lane as the light changed and the pack of forty or so vehicles began a unified entry onto the multi-level 12 lane system that moved Toronto’s population around.

Checking his watch he realized he was cutting things close and engaged his auto-drive unit. A crisp female voice confirmed the system was on and he watched as his car accelerated to over 150 kms per hour and nudged over to the automated lane. Feeling a bit tired he shifted his seat back and took a ten minute cat nap before being alerted the Newmarket exit was coming up soon. The voice warned of system change over in 15 seconds, he acknowledged by placing his hands in the wheel and looking into the eye scanner attached to his rear view mirror. The voice counted down “System Change over in 5-4-3-2-1 - System on manual.” David eased the car to the off ramp and snaked his way through local traffic to his home.

He pulled into the driveway, an act he realized, he would be doing for the last time. He remembered the first time when he and his wife came to see the house. Nearly 34 years ago on a cold night in January they bought the smaller house. They had lived in a McMansion but hated the cost, the neighbours and waste of space. Once their kids had grown up and moved out, the smaller place just made sense.  Its value certainly had appreciated. $450,000 in 2013, the small house would certainly go for $1.5 million once Will put it on the market.

Linda had died nearly ten years ago now and David’s life had been empty without his pal-gal. They could do nothing and have a great time and that was the joy of being in each other’s life. Now all he had was a ridiculous screen on the wall and an O-Health meter chirping at him every two hours to get up and get some exercise. He had gamed the system for some five years before an inspector dropped by to award him for his exceptional health progress for a person in his 60s, only to discover David’s health monitor on a small model train set that looped through the entire house, the whole while mimicking arm movements. He had been fined $40,000 O-health credits and did not see a doctor for nearly three years as a result, but he had enjoyed five years of restful television watching.

David removed the items he had bought from the store. It was a small bottle of dark rum, a Kit-Kat bar and some cold medicine. He opened a drawer behind him and lifted a small box that had nearly a dozen packages of identical medicine. Having reached the decision to check out on this life nearly a year ago, David had taken his full monthly allotment of O-Health approved cold medicine, which also worked for allergies. His latest purchase would provide enough medicine to finish the job, washed down with a little chaser of Black Seal of course.

He could not zero in on a single reason why he felt he had to leave, but certainly loneliness was one issue. The world had become hyper-connected yet people did not talk to each other. Essentially they were pod people in the neighbourhood he lived in. You rolled your car into your garage, never waved hello, exchanged pleasantries or neighbourly gossip. You could go days without any real interaction with people now.

He had pulled apart about forty capsules, carefully emptying the contents into a tiny bowl. The screen in the living room told him there was about 15 minutes to midnight. There was a sharp knock on the door, startling him causing to spill the contents of one of the capsules. He looked and saw the outline of a person at the front door and then David turned to the screen and said “Door” causing the picture to change to a view from an external camera at the front door. It was his neighbour from across the street, Sylvia. She too was wearing cheap Happy 2031 sunglasses, and based on her pronounced wobble, had gotten a head start on bringing in the New Year.

He got up and went to the door, making sure his body was between the kitchen table and any possible view from the front door. As always, Sylvia was looking good, even if her hair colour came from the hair aisle of the drug store.

“Happy New Year David,” she half yelled as he opened the door.

“Hi, Happy New Year to you too Sylvia, though we aren’t there yet,” he replied in a neutral voice. “What’s up?”

“Well, I just decided I wasn’t going to spend another New Year’s eve without someone to bring it in with so was wondering what you are up to?”

“Umm, what do you mean, ‘without someone to bring it in with?’. Where’s Jerry?” asked David.

The smile disappeared from Sylvia’s face, replaced by a shocked look.

“David, Jerry died three years ago of a heart attack.”

It was David’s turn to be shocked.

“Jesus Sylvia. How did I not know about this? I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely. “When did this happen exactly?”

“It was in August of 2028,” she replied morosely. “I wondered why you didn’t come to the funeral or even pop your head in, but you honestly haven’t wondered where Jerry has been for the past three years?”

David let out a long sigh. “I am so embarrassed, August of that year I went and visited Will in Vancouver for a month, so I guess that’s why I missed the funeral, but you are spot on about the rest. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you will come to my house right now and help me drink the bottle of cheap champagne I have on ice,” she said with just a bit of flirt thrown in for good effect.

David looked over his shoulder at the bowl filled with his sleepy-time ingredients.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something. Thanks for the offer but…”

“David, you need to spend time with people at New Years. This is how you missed out on the fact my husband died three years ago. Re-join the human race!”

“I -- but,...,” his voice trailed off. “Ok - just for a bit.”

He would miss his tax deadline, but Will would just have to suffer through an extra tax return.

David grabbed his light coat and closed the door. Sylvia, surprisingly, grabbed at his hand, though he wasn’t sure if it was for stability to get down the stair safely, or something else. She removed all doubt a second later as she spun around and kissed him firmly on the lips.

“Thank you for coming over, you are a life saver,” she whispered.

They managed to catch the final 90 seconds ahead of New Years, as fireworks burst on screen from Toronto and also nearby from the downtown core area of Newmarket. Sylvia kissed him again, and this time parted his lips with her tongue and before he knew it they were tearing at each other’s clothes and headed up the stairs to her bedroom.

It had been awhile, but all systems were go for David, and things went swimmingly he thought as they lay there panting from their efforts.

For the first time in months he realized he wasn’t thinking about, well, about killing himself. He had always used euphemistic terms inside his head so it didn’t sound so final.

Sylvia reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Hopefully that starts both of our year’s off better than before,” she said with a laugh. “And hopefully 2031 is the year you get rid of those pesky allergies.”

David, surprised, turned and looked at her in the low light of her bedside clock and a lone candle.

“I don’t have allergies, why would you…?” his voice trailed off.

“David, it’s all right. Your secret is safe with me. You don’t remember where I work do you?”

For a second time that evening, David was embarrassed. “Umm no. Where do you work?”

“I am the head pharmacist at the clinic on the ground floor of the office you work at.”

“Oh...really? How come I have never seen you?”

“Usually I am in the back doing administration, but I can’t believe you didn’t notice in 12 straight monthly visits for cold and allergy medicine. Like clockwork, second Thursday of the month. I accessed your medical records, I know - I’m not supposed to, but you have never had allergies, and haven’t had a cold in recent memory. So after your sixth visit in June I put your mad plan together in my head and hoped that because you didn’t buy any in December you were putting things off. But Jennifer called me tonight to let me know you had been in and I decided enough is enough. You are not clocking out on my watch, and you have been alone long enough. So at the risk of sounding bossy, we are going to enter into a relationship. Any questions?”

“Just one, do you have any chips?”

Sylvia laughed and opened the drawer to her bedside table. Inside was a selection of tasty snacks that were definitely not on the O-Health recommended list.

“You stockpile cold medicine, I stockpile these.”

Sylvia pulled the 2031 sunglasses that had been perched on her head and placed them on his face before she gave him another soul-searching kiss.

“Welcome back David,” she purred.

“Glad to be back,” his response drowned out by nearby fireworks and more kisses from Sylvia.

Author's Note

This might be a bit clunky - looking for issues with continuity.

Reviews

[Lea Walker]

Neat idea. I enjoyed the ending mainly since he didn't end up killing himself and he found someone who made him happy.