Chapter 1



Chapter 1It was better than nothing.Anna sat huddled at her coffee table, lighting the single candle on the pink cupcake she’d just brought home from Future Bakery on Bloor. True, it wasn’t a full cake. And the paper stuck. But it was pink, and Anna had managed to cram a white candy “80” on top of it and poke a pink candle through the “0”.“Happy Birthday to me.”Arthur rubbed against her leg, purring. Smiling, she picked him up and sat him on the couch beside her. “You want a birthday treat?”The cat eagerly took a couple cat treats from her hand. She always kept the container on the coffee table. Arthur never seemed to get enough.“Alexa, turn on the TV.” Anna clutched her cardigan around her frail shoulders and squinted at the CNN logo. President Chelsea Clinton was making a speech. Almost thirty years since her mother ran for president, Anna thought. And I’m still celebrating my birthday alone.She blew out the candle without making a wish. It felt odd to blow out a single candle on her eightieth birthday—with no one but Arthur and Alexa to cheer her on.Humming the birthday song to herself, Anna hobbled into her kitchenette with the cupcake. She needed something to scoop the cake away from the wrapper. On her way, she unplugged an old rusty kettle. She spooned some tea leaves into a cup that had symbols on the inside. Astrological symbols, numbers, and words like “home”, “family”, “friends”, “freedom”, and “romance”.Anna gave a bitter little laugh. “Well, Arthur, should I find out about the rest of my life?”Arthur blinked up at Anna and licked his lips.“Good enough for me.” She poured steaming water from the kettle into the cup and shuffled back to the coffee table. “Did I forget something?”Of course. The cupcake. She toddled back to the kitchen.Fifteen minutes later, the cupcake wrapper lay on the coffee table with icing and cake stuck to it. Arthur pawed at the wrapper and tapped it onto the floor.Anna flung the last gulp of tea back and held her cup against Alexa’s screen. “Alexa, read my tea leaves please.”Anna always said please. Even to a robot.“Certainly,” Alexa answered, turning her video sensors to the teacup. She went on, in the same voice she’d been using for the last quarter century, “Hmm. Reading. Sometimes the hardest paths lead to the best destinations.”“That’s it? That’s what you came up with?”“Yes. That is what I came up with.”“It’s my eightieth birthday.”“Yes. It is January 19, 2044. You are eighty years old today. Happy Birthday.”Sigh. “Thank you.” Anna took another sip from the cup, and then realized she was sipping air. “Do you ever think maybe there are no best destinations?”“Destinations are the place to which someone or something is going or being sent.”“That’s helpful. But what if you took the wrong road?”“You have always taken the recommended routes, which are the safest and fastest.”Anna put the cup down. Yes, it was true.When you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Craning forward, she peered into the cup. A clump of leaves in the shape of a horse hovered over the word “freedom”. Anna laughed.“This is all nonsense,” she said to Arthur.The buzzing of a drone made her look toward the balcony window. The drone gave five double beeps before Anna got to the door. On the deck chair was a medium-sized box, about eight by twelve by five inches. Anna took it into the apartment and opened it. Her monthly box of health items: antidepressants, anti-anxiety pills, arthritis medication and ointment, hemorrhoid cream, melatonin and vitamin supplements, cranberry pills, dental floss, and toothpaste. There was a little paper card tucked into the side.Anna picked up the card, wondering who would have sent it. On the outside was the Hallmark logo and a cartoon drawing of the sun. “Have a sunny birthday!” the caption read.Inside the card was a calligraphed message saying: “May your special day be full of sunshine and laughter.” Under the saying was a single handwritten word: “Sigrid.”Anna dropped the card. Why would Sigrid be sending her a birthday card after all these years? She had lost touch with her stepsister decades ago.Anna sank into her armchair, absently patting Arthur. The card dropped to the floor unnoticed.“More nonsense,” she whispered. Then she picked up the card and placed it in the trash.Chapter 2The world of 2044 wasn’t all that different from the world that Anna remembered. It was still Brunswick and Bloor. It was still called the Annex. It was still an unofficial University of Toronto student residence and artists’ hangout. The only change, really, was the way it was dressed.As Anna made her way west along Bloor Street, balancing on her black croc boots and supported by her cane with the horse’s head, she squinted. She’d never liked to wear glasses, but the blurred shapes were just as vibrant as they had been in the Eighties. Only now they seemed to move even faster, swirling around until she was dizzy.One sensibly-shod foot in front of the other. That was the way to do it. She crossed diagonally on the light at Brunswick. You could do that now, and Anna approved because it saved her some steps. These days, with arthritis in her knees and bursitis in both shoulders, every step was a Herculean effort, even with the cane. But she still preferred her daily walk over the Handi-Transit.The buzz of delivery drones sounded high above Anna as she entered through the automatic doors of the Bulk Barn. Funny, the dried cranberries were still in the same spot where they’d been thirty-two years ago when she’d started buying them regularly for her recurrent bladder infection. Only now the shovel was gone. You pressed a button, and your cranberries dropped through a hole into a dark biodegradable bag.Anna helped herself to a medium bag and started to leave. The sensors would tally up her purchase and put it on her “card”, which she still called her bank account. She hadn’t carried an actual card for decades. She still kept it in a desk drawer somewhere.Hunching her cardigan around her shoulders, she crossed the security sensors and jerked to a halt at the sudden squeal. Something was wrong. She straightened and held her bag up for the security cameras to check.“Mrs. Pickles,” crackled a voice. “Approach the counter please.”“It’s Miss Pickles,” she called, plodding toward the front counter. “Or, no, Ms. That’s the correct way.”The security attendant at the counter was young, thin, and blonde, with a practiced bounce in her voice. She wasn’t a cashier. She was more of a human backup to the AI sensors, in case there was a dispute.“Hello, Mrs. Pickles! How are you today?”“I’m fine.” Anna managed a smile. She was sure she’d never met this person, who was probably a student working at a student-type temporary job. “Something’s gone wrong with the sensors.”“Let me see.” The blonde woman typed some code into her laptop. “Hmm. Nothing wrong on our end. I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. Now if you can just scooch that bag over here…”Anna sighed. The blonde woman was about to charge her account a second time. But she was late, and she just wanted to get out of there.The attendant weighed and scanned her bag, handed it back, and smiled brightly. “Have a wonderful day!”“You too.” Anna could finally escape.#Out in the winter sun’s glare, Anna hobbled along the grey sidewalk, stopping to rest against a bare tree. Toronto was one of the fifteen major cities in the world that still had trees. She peered into Sushi On Bloor, where robot waiters were delivering sushi. She wondered if any of the older customers still tipped them. A teenage boy bumped into her and continued along the street, oblivious to her presence. Distracted walker, she thought. Brain-cloud interfaces were turning this new generation into the walking dead.She remembered when Incubus, her first cat, had stopped to rest in the cigarette butts under that very tree. She should have known better than to take a cat for a walk on a leash, even though the vet had advised it. An elderly gentleman in a suit had stopped, glanced at the cat, and looked up at Anna with a twinkle in his eye. “That’s not a doggie,” he had half-joked in a clipped British accent.Were those the same cigarette butts? Anna kicked them off her boots and shuffled on. She knew the route well. Left on Lippincott. Right on Lennox. It was quieter than crossing at Bathurst. The thrum of the traffic gave way to the deep wintry quiet, and the icy silence of affluent neighbors she had never met.Lennox Street was deserted with the exception of a dog-walker drone that whirred past her with a Boxer puppy. Anna would have stopped to pet it, but she didn’t know whether the drone was programmed to allow that. Left again on Bathurst. The Annex Veterinary Shelter was a few steps away, in the building where the old animal hospital used to be. Anna waited for a break in the morning traffic and hobbled across the street, looking around for flying facial-rec cameras or cop drones. Jaywalking wasn’t heavily fined, especially since self-driving cars with pedestrian sensors had taken over the streets, but the fine was still debited to your account if a drone caught you and she didn’t want to draw more attention to herself after the Bulk Barn incident. Besides, you never knew when a car with a fallible human driver would show up.It took her exactly one minute and six seconds to reach the west side of Bathurst Street. Anna walked through the shelter doors, clutching the dark bag of cranberries, and smiled at Rosanna.“Hey,” Rosanna said. “Are those for us?”“Sorry,” Anna half-smiled back. “All mine. I even paid for them twice.”“Again? You need to learn to stand up for yourself.”“Can’t teach an old dog.”“You never know.” Rosanna checked her screen. “We have a pregnant twelve-year-old beagle that came in late last night. Doctor Wise’ll fill you in.”“Okay. Have a nice day.”“You too.”#Since the building had switched from keys to thumbprints, Anna had been struggling to get into the apartment in which she’d lived for most of her adult life. The blue Walmer Road building had become “accessible” thirty years ago in response to pressure from tenants. It had a ramp, brightly-colored signs, and an elevator that was constantly being repaired, but which eventually got her to the third floor when it was working. The owners still didn’t seem to understand that when you had to stick your thumb onto a tiny sensor to trigger the lock, someone with arthritis in both hands might have a problem.Anna made three attempts before Alexa piped up.“Trouble again, Anna?”“I’m afraid so. Can you let me in on voice?”“Sure. Sing the alphabet song.”Anna hated doing this. You never know who might be listening. Holding her bag of cranberries and leaning on her cane to relieve her back, she sang in her hoarse voice up to the letter P.“Access granted.” Anna pushed her weight off her cane and sighed with relief as the door clicked open.She leaned her cane in the corner, patting the horse’s head. “The Lion and Albert” had been a favorite poem of her father’s. Anna remembered when she’d given him the cane for his eightieth birthday.“At least he had people to share it with,” she told Arthur, who was already twirling around in front of the fridge. He knew it was his dinnertime.Arthur was licking his lips when she popped open the can of Friskies Meaty Morsels. She knew the meat was manufactured in a lab, but she didn’t want to think about where it came from. Anyway, she had never liked the idea of real meat. She’d still be a vegan if her doctor hadn’t told her she needed her iron.“Anyway, you’re not a vegan, are you?” she said to the cat as she put his plate down in front of his eager face.As he happily lapped up the food, she took her meds, shuffled to the couch, and clicked on the TV. CNN again, as usual. Some opinion piece about how nanobots would eventually either save humans or annihilate them. The AI delivering the piece had Anderson Cooper’s face.“They should have copied Doctor Sanjay Gupta,” she told Arthur in disgust. AI clones never got anything right.“As we all remember,” the Anderson clone continued, “the nanotech boom of the 2020s gave rise to a number of medical technology developments that were revolutionary at the time. These tiny robots, a fraction of the width of a human hair, can travel through the bloodstream, ridding it of toxins, supplying it with enough oxygen to be able to hold one’s breath under water for several hours. Now, twenty years later, nanomedicine has led to the discovery of dechronification.”Yes, she’d heard of this. Miniscule robots swam around to all of your cells, fixing anything that had gone wrong, making you a physically optimal version of yourself. Essentially, it made you young again, and then some. But this was the kind of thing that was available only to celebrities and the very rich. The people in the kind of world that didn’t know or care that she was alive.As Anderson rattled on about how dechronification could lead to a second population explosion, Anna took out her scrapbook. It opened naturally to the picture of Michael. As always, he sat on the bench looking up in surprise. As usual, there was a hint of a playful smile on his face. His eyes peered up at her over his Serengeti shades.“Frozen in time,” she breathed. She kissed her finger and brushed it against his cheek.“Turning to today’s breaking news,” Anderson continued, “Ubermensch has denied responsibility for the mass shooting in a New York City synagogue. Ubermensch, a white nationalist organization, issued a statement today praising the gunman’s actions, though at the same time dismissing them as ‘low-tech and unsophisticated’. Ubermensch has repeatedly touted its twisted goal of using modern technology to ‘Reclaim the power of the white race.’ Indeed, many of their past crimes have involved nanotech and other recently developed mass weaponry.”“I wish that kind of thing still shocked me,” she whispered to Arthur. “Alexa, turn off the TV.”Gently closing the scrapbook and putting it back in place, she picked up the tiny gilded case that she always kept on her coffee table. She lifted the lid. Inside was a small round Baby’s Ear seashell, still glowing after more than half a century.This was Anna’s bedtime ritual, and Anna was a creature of habit. She drank in the sight of the shell, admiring its smoothness and shine, as if it had an inner light. She looked out the window at the moon, its darker portion dotted with twinkling pinpoints of light from the lunar bases.“Good night,” she breathed.Chapter 3Alexa sounded the incoming call signal.Anna stirred. “Alexa, what time is it?”“The time is nine-o-two AM, Tuesday, February 2, 2044.”“Alexa, who’s calling?”“Unknown. Would you like me to pick up?”“No thanks.” She flopped back over and went to sleep.At ten-thirty-one, she opened her eyes to see Arthur’s face close to hers. “You’re ready for breakfast, aren’t you?” She sat up and placed her feet into the bunny slippers on the floor. “All right, all right. Hold on. Alexa, any messages?”“You have one voice message.”“Alexa, play my message.”An electronically distorted voice began to speak. “Anna, it’s very important that you listen to me. I have hacked your bank account and transferred three hundred thousand dollars into my possession. You can get it back. Further instructions will follow, and it is crucial that you comply. The fate of the world is in your hands.”What?“Alexa, trace the call.”“Unable to comply. Caller ID not provided.” “I’m sure it’s another scam,” she said to Arthur, who was twirling around in front of the refrigerator. “Okay, okay, Arthur, here you go.”As Arthur happily lapped up his morning Meaty Morsels, Anna fixed herself a morning coffee in her vintage Keurig. She sat on the couch in the living room and thumbed through the apps on her phone until she found the CIBC app. She signed in—and saw her balance.Three hundred forty dollars and three cents.“Alexa, call my landlord.”Alexa did. “Elton Property Management,” sounded a voice. “This is Jerri, the reception AI. How can we help you?”“This is Anna Pickles. I’m calling to inquire about my account.”“Voice verification in progress. One moment please. Yes. Your most recent rent payment did not go through.”“That’s odd. I have it set up for automatic payments from my bank.”“Yes, that information is on file. Unfortunately, the last payment came back overdrawn.”“Are you sure? I didn’t get a notice.”“I am an AI. I am sure.”Anna turned pale. “What does that mean?”“It means that unless you pay your rent in full within three months, we will have to evict you.”#Anna’s next call was to the police. “Alexa, call 911.”“Toronto Police,” said a clearly electronic voice.“Yes, hello, this is Anna Pickles, 22 Walmer Road. I’d like to report bank fraud.”“Details please.”Anna related the details as best she could. “So when can I expect a visit?”“We will file a report. Thank you for reporting this incident.”The line went dead.Her phone dinged. Anna checked it and saw that she had a new appointment: Dechronification, Juventas Clinic, nine a.m. the next day.#“Drop me off at the Bulk Barn,” Anna told the Handi-Transit automatic driver. She was taking a Handi-Transit today instead of walking, as the shock of the morning had tired her out. As she walked through the sliding doors of the Bulk Barn, she braced herself. Confrontations had never been her strong point. She inched her way to the security counter.“Um, excuse me?” Anna’s voice was quiet and timid.The blonde woman beamed at her. “Hello, Mrs. Pickles! What can I do for you today?”“I think there’s been a mistake.”The woman didn’t blink. “We run on a flawless artificial intelligence system. We don’t make mistakes.”“I think you did—you charged my card twice.”“Card?” The woman looked as if that were the cutest thing she’d heard all day.“I mean my account. That bag of cranberries a couple of weeks ago? There are two payments.”“Hmm, I’m not sure I understand that. Have you double-checked the statement?”Anna suppressed a sigh. “Of course. Maybe your security sensors are malfunctioning?”“They never do. I’ll run it by our supervisor and we’ll get back to you.”On the way out, Anna passed the e-mag stand. The screen ad for the National Enquirer showed side-by-side photos of an older and a younger Cher. The headline read: “Dechron diva!”#On the Handi-Transit on her way to the shelter, Anna thumbed the keypad on her phone until she reached the Juventas website. Juventas, she read. Start your journey.But I’ve finished my journey, she thought. It failed. Now I’m tired. I want to sleep.She wouldn’t get to sleep if she were living on the street. Not well. Her stomach tightened at the thought. No privacy. No warmth. Everyone looking down on her, and nowhere she could go to escape it. Police drones constantly hounding her out of doorways.“At least the winters aren’t that cold anymore,” she said aloud to herself. Despite global efforts to clean up the planet with new technology, climate change had taken its toll, and the average winter temperature was seven degrees Celsius.What will happen to Arthur? She couldn’t keep a cat in a back alley. Maybe the people at the shelter would look after him. I doubt it. They don’t seem to know I exist.“What are we going to do? Hey Siri, what am I going to do?”“I suggest you obtain a job.”Thanks. She hadn’t worked since 2029, when she’d retired from her data entry job. Forced to retire, actually, she thought with a grimace. Even though she’d always been good at it and taken comfort from the repetitive, routine nature of the work, the reality was that her hands didn’t function anymore. Besides, in 2029, nobody wanted a sixty-five-year-old data entry clerk. Most of the world had long been paperless. Even in jobs that still involved paper, scanners and optical character recognition could do the same job for less money, and they didn’t take sick days.Suddenly, something made her look up and across the aisle. A middle-aged man was staring at her over his Google glasses. He quickly readjusted them, casually brushing a stray hair into his greying man-bun, and looked at the floor.The Handi-Transit dropped her off at the shelter.#Anna looked into the Siamese’s shaking eyes. Pain and terror wrenched his emaciated little body.“He doesn’t have long.” Doctor Wise’s tone was a little less clipped than usual. Everything about Doctor Wise was usually so quick and direct. He was a bony little man, whose round glasses were the only thing about him that wasn’t a sharp corner.“How much time?”“Maybe half a day. Burning up inside.” He paused for a moment. “Can’t understand it. Why would anyone do this?”“I’m sure the owner couldn’t have known what would happen.”“How could she not? Stories in the news every day. Botched dechron. Nanobots go haywire inside the body.”Anna looked into the cat’s eyes again. “What’s his name?”“Keaton. Owner’s a film buff. Nothing we can do for him here. Have to euthanize.” Doctor Wise zoomed off before Anna could speak.She kept looking into Keaton’s soft blue eyes, unable to tear herself away.#As Arthur slurped his Meaty Morsels, Anna sat in front of the TV with her scrapbook. “There are so many things I regret,” she said to Michael’s picture. “But they’re over. I’ve failed. I haven’t thought of success in years.”Michael peered at her over his shades, with the hint of a playful smile. Anna could swear his eyes twinkled.“Even if this is legitimate, should I go through with it? If something goes wrong…” She shuddered. “What a horrible way to go.”Softly, she closed the book. She took out the shell. She turned it over in her palm, watching the light from the TV play on its gleam. Then, suddenly, she clutched her fist.“Good night,” she faltered. She had her answer. ................
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