Futurism logo

The Day

by Michael King about a year ago in humanity
Report Story

A look into one man's perfect day in the distant future

The Day
Photo by frank mckenna on Unsplash

Today is the day. No one thought it would ever come, yet time has brought us here. The news outlets keep blabbering on and on. I turn off the television and turn on some music. I turn on orchestral music radio and walk outside. The sun is rising. Today the low is 20 with a high of 97. As I feel the warmth wash over me, I smile. Sunlight has brought the new day in with a beautiful tempo as the climax to the 1812 Overture plays in my ears. I pick a rose from the bush pressed against the wall of my house and breathe in its soothing aroma. I look around. It appears I am the only one awake. I decide to take a walk. The park across the street is filled with cobblestone paths and the best beaches money can buy. The dome shape and the glass on the wall refracts just the right amount of UV rays so that you can swim and feel the warmth of the sun without the burn that is usually accompanied with it. I go to the park, a perfect 82 degrees with a light ocean breeze and the smell of animatronic fish reminding me of how the ocean should feel. I check the interface and I change my clothes perfect for a morning at the beach. I wade into the comfort of the lightly chilled, perfectly salty water. The breeze washes over me bringing a slight chill as I walk against the back current up to the sand where a server bot greets me. “Sir, would you like to sit at the overlook today, we are at our peak hour, 11 AM, yet we are nowhere near capacity. You are the only one here, sir. May I show you to your seat and offer you a beverage?”, I take a soda from its selection, grape, my favorite flavor. I crack it open as the beautiful scenery around me, birds, ocean, and sunlight offer perfect harmony on the most outstanding of mornings.

It is 2 PM and I have left the beach. I continue my walk as cars zip past me, music still playing all the while, drowning out the hustle and bustle of a people so concerned with the grind. I open the interface. Notifications from all the news outlets inform me the bio-orbit is set to be launched in 15 minutes, but alas I will miss it I walk to the steakhouse on my street. I order a filet minon medium-rare and indulge myself in the finer tastes of life. Still, I find myself all alone as everyone else has filed into their normal Tuesday schedules and it is 2 PM after all. I begin eating, enjoying the savory flavor of a meat that many could not afford on two paychecks. As I clean my plate I smile with gratitude for the taste. The server robot hands me my check and I am off, walking again back to my home.

I jump in the shower and let the warm water cover my body. It is 2:50 PM and if I am not careful, I am going to miss it. I jump out of the shower, dry off and check the interface for my favorite pair of underwear. I walk outside and lie in the grass. It is 97 degrees outside and everything is perfect. The birds are chirping, everything about everything feels so alive and full.

It is 3:10 PM as I lie on the grass, it begins. The sunlight has begun to fade but the sun has not set. 85 degrees. 50 degrees. 32 degrees. As I feel the cold and the darkness setting in, as I am sure everyone else left behind feels as well, there is nothing and everything and each second is its own mini eternity and as I look back on my day, a near perfect day, I close my eyes and it is gone.

humanity

About the author

Michael King

My name is Michael King and I am currently living in Pueblo, CO. I enjoy writing, television, movies, and video games as well. I try to seek joy in the finer things of life and that's why I am here.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.