Escape the Future by John Biron
from Dystopia: a PUNK NOIR Magazine series
“Morphezine kick in yet?”
“Not sure. My head’s fuzzy.”
“That means yes. It’s a one way trip, you sure about this?”
“Completely.”
“Okay. The Past Pod will continue to monitor your vitals for a term of twenty years, as per the Platinum Policy that you purchased. After that, well, we have to make room for other customers, right?”
“I’ll be eighty-seven. Can’t stomach this world alone no more. Just hit it,” I say.
Sharp sting in the back of my head. Open eyes on our neighborhood. It’s no longer an ash pit. There are birds, bugs. Blue sky, skinny clouds. The bright warmth of the sun, forgotten for so long, waters my eyes. Honeysuckle growing along the fences fragrant and pale.
People walk around with no biosuits on. They laugh again. My hands, skin tight. No more than twenty. I can run.
She greets me in the dark oak doorway, like she always has. She jumps into my eager arms.
“I love you,” she says.
Start to say it back but choke. None of the softness that textured her skin. She kisses me but something’s wrong. Her lips taste like nothing. Weren’t her eyes a lighter shade of blue?
This story appears as part of Dystopia, a PUNK NOIR Magazine series.
Bio
A truly delusion freak, as is anyone that chooses to work for grueling hours on a collection of words that ten people total will read. That, or so hubristic as to rival the most tragic of the Greek heroes. Either way follow along at @JohnBiron90196 on Twitter.
PUNK NOIR, the online literary and arts magazine that looks at the world at its most askew, casting a bloodshot eye over the written word, film, music, television and more.
Subscribe for a regular dose of hard-boiled flash fiction, straight to your inbox.