A Disbelieving Director

Story starts from A Foggy Future. One chapter per week, hopefully.

Wake up. Get ready. Suit up. Go to work. Come home. Change. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

This was the schedule every single day. No more parties, no more visits to friends, no more social lives. Half of us hadn’t used the words ‘fun’, ‘happiness’, or even ‘life’ in half a year. Most of us even called ourselves ‘inhabitants’ now. Because we weren’t really living, not according to them. To them, we were just not dying. But some of us know that they really just got that phrase by watching too much TV. Or reading too many books. Probably not the latter. Some of us like to think that not dying is just living. And if you’re living, there’s got to be something worth living for. Or else, what’s the point? What’s the point of going to work? It’s not like money exists anymore. What’s the point of waking up every day?

They can call us whatever they want to, but we don’t care. None of us will forget that it was them who brought this upon us. Sure, the leaders started it, but they accepted it. They, alone, accepted this fate.

I like to think it all started that day. The day they sent me to the future. Except, what was then the future is now the past, and nothing can be done to change it without causing significant repercussions.

When I returned, naturally, people were bursting with curiosity. Did it work? What did it look like? Was it really cool? Were there any good movies? It was with great distress that I told them what had actually happened. Which was, honestly, nothing.

The director of the project finally spoke. He said three words that I was going to hear more often than I’d like in the next two years.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” I asked “Are you questioning my honesty?”

“No! Well, maybe a little. Maybe that’s what you saw, but it is quite possible that you saw something entirely different than what the future is. There could have easily been some sort of malfunction with the machine. For all we know, you might have just been hallucinating. How do you prove-?”

That was enough. I couldn’t stand this. Neither could some of the others, it seemed as they turned on him in my defense. There were however, as expected, others who agreed with the director. Soon enough the room was in chaos, with half of us on one side and the rest on the other. The director who, in my opinion, had been cowering behind the fighters, finally emerged.

“That’s enough! What are you people, ten?” He asked.

“Actually sir, I am ten.” I backfired.

“I’m going there.” he said, ignoring me “I want to go to 2056 and see for myself. Now. Else, I’ll have no reason whatsoever to believe you.”

The room fell into silence. People then started to form groups and talk things over with each other. I stood aside, catching bits and pieces of their conversations, still shocked by his words.

“He can’t go now-”

“Anything could go wrong-”

“We won’t get any further-”

“We need a director-”

On and on the voices went as I stood alone, thinking. The crowd shuffled but the voices continued. The groups had changed. I saw the director giving me the evil eye from the opposite end of the room, and was thankful when someone cleared their throat.

“After lengthy discussions, we have now decided that after giving it some time to cool down, the machine would be ready and we can send John to, wherever Naomi went, so he can see this mysterious fog.” She said.

“I want to go now, though.” said Mr. John, almost whining.

“That would really be very dangerous and hence, is not even a plausible scenario for us to consider at the moment.” she replied, practically.

There was a moment of tense silence, which was broken by John’s growling.

“Get out. All of you. Go home. Your work is done.” he said pretty rudely, if you ask me “Wait. Jimmy and Nathan. I need to talk to you.”

As everyone shuffled out, I wondered what John could possibly want with the two others. It wasn’t until later that I realised that both the men were lead engineers who, while we were arguing, weren’t on my side.



One Comment Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.