2222 A.D.

2222 A.D.

an unusually sunny day

she thinks, slightly cool but then again, there’s a limit to how much warmth the Great Reflector can give off – most of the heat’s down to the generators, there hasn’t been real sunlight for about a hundred years (even her grandparents can barely remember it, they say it was pretty though)

‘sunny’ is an archaic term, but she is an English student, after all

hey June

slow down a sec – is it the Memorial Hall you’ve got your lecture in? a voice from behind her, familiar

hey – yeah, got a 9am on 21st century pandemic literature. it could be worse for a Tuesday morning. where are you, Leo?

just next door, he nods, but it’s nothing that interesting, it’s a slow start with botany for me – lab first, then my lit review

cool, okay – catch you in the café after?

they agree to meet later, hurrying to their rooms, staying 2 meters apart at all times but managing a quick smile (with their eyes of course – was it a smize they called it back then? it’s just a smile now. the masks have to stay on, obviously)

June – short, impeccably dressed and halfway through her third year of university (which is stressing her out no end) – settles down in the lecture hall

she had downplayed it with Leo but this is her favorite paper of the year, maybe the entire course

2020, that unbelievable year… it changed everything, how could you not want to read about it?

bushfires and wildfires

impeachment

global protests for racial equality

Trump being trumped

and most importantly, the Pandemic

she could go on

a lifetime was lived within a year

the Great Divider

the Before and After

(maybe she should have picked the History course instead? on reflection, probably not – she prefers prose to politics)

***

café, 10:15am

…I’m just saying, they really should have prioritized the Mars mission in 2020, Earth was fast becoming unviable (and don’t forget that other major bugbear, climate change – yeah, yeah, seems like old news now but back then it was really current). if you ask me, they could have handled it better

June raises her eyebrows

sure, but Leo, a) millions of people were dying and most of the rest were basically trapped at home, so the Vaccine Emergency was kind of necessary, and b) they landed a rover on Mars in 2021, was that not soon enough for you?

fine – okay, they did give it some thought, but not enough if you ask me! what we’re doing in botany is the future, you know, we’re enriching Martian soil to make it healthy enough for agriculture, I’m just saying we could have made progress decades earlier if they’d shifted course on time

right, fine, yes – they couldn’t see into the future, definitely their fault on that one

that’s not what I said, but you need to have some hope for the future, and a vision… not sure there was much of that going around in the 21st century – but hey, I know you love that era, so I’ll stop tearing into them. they had it bad and maybe I’m being harsh. speaking of – there’s that exhibition tonight, you’d love it. “The Pandemic: Are We Inoculated Yet?”, pretty cool, it traces through post-pandemic history up until the variants we have today. I’m going if you want to come?

um, obviously?! how did I not know about that? the English faculty is the worst, I have to hear about all these Pandemic events through biologists like you, June sighs

can’t think why. the English department clearly has a more natural claim on pandemics… anyway, let’s head there together. but I think it’s fancy – some Lord or other is sponsoring it – so probably a good idea to dress up a little. meet you by the Gate at 6:30pm?

sounds good, see you then. right, I need to start this essay…

June drains her flat white, readjusts her mask and the two of them walk to the library in heated discussion (this time in agreement) of the library’s ridiculous no-coffee policy

***

June and Leo

the two of them go way back, back to when they were kids and learning to social distance (a very different childhood to their parents, they know, apparently back then they had sandpits and community play areas? unheard of since 2075, at least)

the two of them have always been honest with each other

unforgiving in debates (even when it got heated)

but always speaking from the heart

not romantic love

but loyal and unadulterated friendship

and really, after enough time, who could tell the difference?

***

6:45pm

the air is thick with chatter, wine and reminiscence. the walls are an expensive burgundy, and the ornate glass dome of the exhibition hall rises over the crowd, allowing the voices to drift up into the indigo sky

artfully dotted around the vast room are memoirs of another lifetime – the time before the Pandemic – and keepsakes from the era that followed. the exhibition observes the features of life before, during and after the Pandemic, posing a question to its voyeurs: had humanity created sufficient immunity to the Pandemic – and at what cost? life at a distance, masked, two meters apart, screens separating the human race, the electronic medium. forever. was it worth it?

June walks through the archway at the left wing of the hall, entering a taupe-colored room, more intimate than the last. in the middle lies a sole exhibit, illuminated by a small but powerful spotlight.

a black briefcase, lying open, its sides perpendicular and its contents peculiar. June inches forward. she doesn’t recognize the contents at first, but visions of her high school history textbook come back to her. it’s filled to the brim with money. a lot of it. how much? the tombstone describing it says $20,000. in today’s money, that’s worth easily much more.

intriguing, isn’t it?

June looks to her left, startled. a crimson-haired woman is standing beside her. she must have come in silently.

yes, June replies. I’ve never seen real money before. it’s all digital now, obviously. to be honest, I didn’t really think the stories about physical money from history class were true. such an important store of value – left to be carried around so carelessly…

oh yes, it was the norm for most of history. our screens are a wonderful thing, but most of humankind has had to live without them. the magic of liquid crystal never touched them. the phase-out began in 2050, but someone clearly broke the law to keep this set, the woman nodded towards the briefcase. it’s quite amazing, actually. you see all the notes and coins are different colors and designs? that’s because they’re different physical currencies, from each country at the time. see, there are coins from Norway with the distinctive hole, Hong Kong with the curly edges and that’s the Peruvian sol. the collector risked prison by storing this contraband. it’s the last collection like this left. what a privilege it is to see it, don’t you think?

June nods, entranced. how does this woman know so much? who can recognize historic currencies these days? as June is about to walk away, the woman turns to face her. she has intense amber eyes. they trace the room to land on a small black book, placed discreetly on a plinth. June looks too. the woman’s gaze pierces June as if to say, take it. the woman leaves.

the black book. innocuous. alluring. should she look? it’s been decided already, as if she has a choice.

first sanitizing it, she leafs through. blank, she thinks, rolling her eyes. except…

one page in the middle – nondescript, but with a very slight dog-ear fold – you’d have to know to look

three items on it: (1) an exorbitant sum of money (presumably to pay June off), (2) a set of contact details and an address to deliver to, and (3) a diagram of the security around the briefcase and how to disable it. it looks surprisingly easy – but it’s a temporary exhibition after all.

June is trapped. the woman knows her desire to hold the briefcase and touch it, had seen the lust in her eyes. the eye contact had been an error…

Leo strolls into the room. hey June, I finally managed to get away from that classics professor, can you believe – what are you looking at there?

oh – nothing – bit boring really, just a black suitcase thing. can you get me a drink and I’ll meet you in five? just going to the ladies

sure, he says, leaving the room, already distracted

June steels herself. it’s madness. obviously. she can’t do this. totally wrong…

glancing down at the page, she thinks – maybe she’ll just do the first step, just to try it out. that woman can’t be right, how could she know about the security system? she’s a lunatic and once I have proof, I’ll alert the authorities.

June moves forward. the room is empty. step one – complete. no alarms. did it actually work? her hands shake, her pulse is racing. she follows the rest of the instructions to the letter, careful not to push her luck. a satisfying click reverberates too loudly for her liking. she slides the briefcase shut and slips out of the room’s fire exit.

shivering, she instructs her implant (the ease of thought recognition) to send Leo a message

hey sorry I just met someone I know, we’re going to get a drink somewhere else and catch up – just head back without me. see you tomorrow at breakfast?

a rapid reply

sure, have a good night – I’m pretty wiped out so just going to head back. see you in the morning

she exhales. she is outside and it’s cold, obviously. she wants to examine her prize in privacy. she will call a taxi home, in 15 minutes. Leo needs to go home first. he can’t see her. no one can.

***

once back in her room, she runs her fingers lightly over the crisp notes – emerald, violet, burnt orange – the kaleidoscope of colors overwhelmed her. this was history, in her hands. intricate designs scattered over her rug, the lettering of different scripts an enigma, and the intermittent peeking of numbers resembling a lottery announcement. emblazoned on the notes are former heads of state, queens, kings, sultans, emirs, generals, lords… all long gone. how she longs to revisit that time when it all seemed perfect. when people danced, drank, sang, hugged, kissed each other twice on the cheek as a simple greeting… nature was then not yet so damaged, the extent of the flooding not yet sinking in…

she was rich. she had money, true, but that wasn’t what she meant. she had what she really wanted – something that no one else did. and this time, it wasn’t about getting the most likes on Instagram, or invitations to parties, or birthday gifts. modern life had become vapid and meaningless. people became homogenous since the human race was too abundant for any meaningful uniqueness to exist. this was it. something of her own.

she feels alive.

and she isn’t giving it away, not to anyone. the lady had been a fool. as if she would give up her most prized possession, even for the ridiculous figure quoted in the book. there are some things that money just can’t buy: a feeling, a sensation, exhilaration. the company of others, a walk in the sun, time…

the faces on the notes stare up at her, at once seeing and unseeing. don’t you know how much you mean to me? sighing contentedly, she delicately rearranges them. the flat, curling script is her favorite. and the Norwegian coin reminds her of a lifebuoy.

it’s not such a bad thing to have done, is it? I didn’t hurt anyone, I bet no one even cares

her frown fades in proportion to her rationalization

in the distance, sirens.