Future Shock

22

A woman with short, black hair and a ton of eyeliner comes to our table. She’s well stacked, wearing a bra flashing with digital colors, a matching skirt that’s smaller than some of my underwear, and a flexi that looks like fish scales. But there’s something sad about her, with the fine lines around her eyes and the caked-on makeup, like she’s trying too hard to be twenty again.

“You order the private room?” she asks, sounding bored.

Is this Jasmine? I glance at Adam, but he shrugs.

“That’s her,” Zoe says softly. “I can’t believe it. She looks so…old.”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Adam says to Jasmine, adjusting his glasses and carefully looking everywhere except her breasts. “What do we…”

“Follow me.” She leads us into the side of the club, past a velvet curtain, and gestures at a purple love seat. Adam sits, but I think of all the men who must have sat on the couch and decide to remain standing.

The woman slides close to him, moving between his legs, but he holds up his hands to stop her. “Wait! We just want to talk to you.”The woman shrugs, but steps back. “Whatever. You paid for thirty minutes.”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about your sister,” I say.

“My sister?” Jasmine plants her hands on her hips. “Why do you want to know about her?”

“We’re, um…” We really should have planned this out better. I try to think of everything I know about Zoe. “We’re doing a class project on her art. She was a great artist.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Jasmine c***s her head to the side, her eyebrows raised. “My sister died when she was seventeen.”

05:21

I hear a sharp intake of breath in my head, and Chris starts to swear. Zoe is dead? That must be why she’s not in the system. But if Zoe’s not in the system, does that mean we’re all dead?

No. It could just be a coincidence. It has to be.

Jasmine is eyeing me suspiciously. I need to say something. “Well, you know, art becomes more valuable after someone dies.”

“Hmm.” She shrugs. “I guess it has been about thirty years now.”

Oh God. That means Zoe must have died not long after we returned from this trip to the future. It can’t be a coincidence. It’s all connected somehow—the conversation with the scientists, the empty building and the wrong year, and now this.

“How exactly did your sister die?” Adam asks.

“Not sure that’s any of your business really, but she was murdered.”

Murdered. The word hangs over us, sending chills through me. Someone starts wailing, probably Zoe. I put my hand to my forehead, feeling faint all of a sudden. I need to get these people out of my head. I need to get away from the sinking feeling that everything is going horribly wrong and there’s no way to stop it.

Adam stands up and touches my arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just give me a sec.”

I push past the curtain into the main part of the club. A different girl is dancing on stage now. I dart past her and into the bathroom, which looks like it hasn’t been updated—or cleaned—since my time. I stare into the mirror over the sink, trying to ignore the computerized ads that dance along the edge of it. I still hear Zoe muttering in my head, along with Chris and Trent trying to talk to her. Even in the bathroom I can’t escape them. I switch off the camera feed and my head goes silent again.

Under the dim light my dark skin looks sallow, my brown eyes tired. My long hair is frizzing out. I look lost. Defeated. Weak.

I splash water on my face and smooth out my hair. Pull it together, I tell myself. Just because Zoe’s dead doesn’t mean you are too.

I use the toilet and return to our private room behind the curtain. Jasmine is leaning against the wall, examining her nails. Adam looks up at me, his face creased with worry. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I switch my camera back on. The other end is silent. “Do you know who killed Zoe?” I ask Jasmine.

“Nah, I was only eight when she died. I don’t remember anything, except that she was shot in her girlfriend’s apartment.”

“No, please, no,” Zoe says, with a sob in her voice. “This can’t be happening. I don’t believe it!”

I hear static and a thump on the other end, and then hear Chris yell Zoe’s name in the background. Followed by more static.

“Zoe?” Adam asks. “Chris?”

Silence.

I dart through the curtain and into the club, while Jasmine yells, “Hey!” Adam is right behind me as we step outside.

It’s raining now, and I’m quickly soaked without my coat. We rush to the back of the club where the others are supposed to be waiting. I hold my hand over my eyes to peer through the downpour, looking for any sign of them.

Farther down the street, I see Trent and Chris running down the alley, their feet splashing against the sidewalk. Zoe’s in front of them and she runs like a scared child, either indifferent or completely unaware of the rain pouring down on her.

Adam and I take off after them, racing down the rain-slicked road. Zoe suddenly collapses in the middle of the alley. Is she hurt? I run faster.

I catch up to them, panting and completely soaked through, with Adam just behind me. Chris stands beside Zoe, who kneels on the ground, shivering. Trent smokes a cigarette, his hand shaking as he flicks the ash onto the wet ground.

Zoe peers up at us with haunted eyes, rain dripping down her face and mixing with her tears. “This future. I don’t want it. I hate it.”