The heat of the day was suffocating. Not even the ceiling fan could assuage the humid torpor that settled like an oppressive blanket around one's head. Aided in no small measure by the sunlight glint off the high-rise windows, strategically focused on his downtown pod like lasers. A brilliant piece of engineering, Lars thought with a sardonic snort. Maybe it was time to move. Just sell the place, and buy a cabin in the woods.
This was the third blackout in as many weeks, so Nelly, the AI building manager, had proceed with the installation of backup solar generators. She warned the residents to keep only the basics running.
“Nelly, what’s the temperature outside?”
“It’s thirty-three degrees.”
"Thirty-three!" he said with a chuckle.
"That's correct."
"What are the odds?"
"I don't understand. Can you clarify?"
"Nevermind."
How could an AI understand the pleasure humans get when numbers align mathematically or create a pattern? Today was the third day of the third month of the year three thousand and thirty-three.
A quick thought flashed through his mind.
“Show me the time,” he said to Nelly.
A holographic clock appeared hovering above the coffee table.
3:33 PM
“No way! Show me the seconds.”
3:33:33
He sat up and stared at the clock like he had just seen a ghost. What were the chances of that?
33 degrees Celsius at 3:33:33 PM on 3/3/3033!
He noticed that the clock had remained still.
“Nelly, what’s wrong with the clock? Why isn't it changing?”
She didn't answer.
“Nelly activate.”
In the kitchen, the refrigerator rumbled then fell silent.
The back up generator, he thought. Go figure.
He opened all the windows then stepped out onto the balcony.
The sky! He could see the actual blue sky! All the holographic billboards were gone, and not a single craft dotted the skyline.
As he gazed down the avenue below, he could see the crowds gathering on the street.
“Now what? Another protest?”
A flash! Followed by a distant rumbling.
Shouts and screams rose from the streets.
He looked north beyond the high-rises and saw the dark shadows gathering above the North Shore mountains.
“What in the world?”
They looked like fast-moving grey clouds, alive, flowing like some malevolent force with motive, darkening the sky with lead.
“Oh sh-!” he said running back into his pod.
Just my luck! The end of the world has arrived and my ass is woefully unprepared. What do I need? A bag! Yes! A bag!
He ran to his bedroom and began to pull out all the junk he had stashed under his bed. Finally, he found a large black bag, covered in dust, that he had purchased long ago and then forgotten all about it. It was practically brand new. Large enough to fill it with... with what?
Another flash! Then the sonorous rumbling, shaking the windows in the wake of its sonic boom.
Okay okay! What do I need? Come on, think! Concentrate! My wallet! My keys! My phones! The charger. Yes, don’t forget the charger.
He ran to his study and knocked over a pile of drafting tools on his desk. At last, he found the items he was looking for.
The computer! Yes, where is it? And the camera.
He search under a pile of ancient books to no avail. It was an utter disorganized mess.
More explosions shook the building and rattled the windows.
He ran back out to the living room.
“Food!” he said twirling in place, trying to orient himself. “In the kitchen!”
He heard screaming and shouting out on the hallway.
The foundations shook as explosions rocked the city.
Shelter, water, fire, medicine, tools, cooking, toilet paper...
"Toilet paper," he whispered as if suddenly realizing the enormity of the situation.
It all came back to him. All those videos, books, articles on prepping. They had laid it out very carefully. You ain’t gonna have time to even put on some pants when the shit hits the fan! one of them had quipped. It's just grab and go!
“Ain’t that truth,” he murmured.
It was too late to prepare for the apocalypse. He realized that now. He had left it ‘till tomorrow, and tomorrow had finally come to greet him.
The windows rattled and shattered into pieces.
He ran to his bedroom and opened the drawer on the night table.
A NeoWinchester 24 pulse automatic weapon rested on a stack of cards.
“Oh well," he murmured, as he grabbed the gleaming gun.
“I always wanted to be a marauder anyway.”
Thank you for reading my entry to the InkWell’s challenge, using the prompt: Tomorrow
I concentrated the story arc within the confines of a "pod" at a crucial moment in the character's life. I first imagined that he would be out there in the city fighting aliens or zombie hordes but then reigned it in to a more suitable and manageable setting.
In addition to the prompt, I was further inspired by the fact that today is 2/22/22, and this bit of odd news showed up on my feed.
What are the chances? This got my imagination running wild about conspiracies, messages from the Sirius star system, and the world of tomorrow.
It was also inspired by a recent discussion I had about prepping with @carolkean, in which I bemoaned my lack of preparation for major catastrophic events.
Lastly, Tomorrow Never Knows is one of the Beatle’s greatest songs, and perhaps one of the most important pieces of prepping advice ever given to humanity.
Images by @litguru
