Happy Juice

Jessica woke to the sound of the siren on January 1, 2050, the same sound that still echoed through her senses as the curfew was sounded last night. The same blaring call that had dictated all of their movements for the past twenty-five years.

Slowly she eased her feet over the side of the bed, wishing her knees bent as easily as they did in 2025 the first time the Community Unified Neighborhood Trackers (C.U.N.T. no longer made her chuckle, there was noting amusing about the C.U.N.T.) called everyone to appear at their windows for drone roll call.

Of course, back then, it seemed like a sensible temporary measure. Put in place to reassure people that the search and seizure raids seeking undocumented immigrants would no longer keep everyone on edge. Just open the drapes and wait for the drone to pass by the window, scan the house with the heat-seeker wand, and scan each retina. Boom, Boom, Boom and there! All done.

Until. Until it was never really done. It just got, somehow- MORE.

First it was a scan at dusk. A way to be sure all the children were accounted for. Why- not much different than those celebrity commercials back in the day with 'It's 10 PM, parents; do you know where your children are?' This was much more civilized. More advanced. Just using the tools available to do things cleanly, efficiently. A quick heat scan, retina read, and then everyone just... stayed inside. It only made sense. Sleep until the call of the siren woke them for morning scans.

Then- it was work-scans. That was only natural; people were reluctant to RTW after they had WFH. Returning to Work seemed like it took too much time, too much space, no one wanted to give up their home comforts.

But office space isn't cheap and it only made sense to be sure the owners were getting what they paid for so retinal scans at work made that quick and easy.

"Now it's everywhere", Jessica mused aloud, then startled at the sound of her voice echoing in the cold bathroom as she slowly lowered herself for the morning pee, wincing at the twinge in her knees. "Scan for the paycheck and it's deposited in the money account, scan when the delivery brings groceries and it's taken out of the account... and I have to add a solar boost for the bidet to the Green order for tomorrow," she muttered to herself as she flushed.

At least at eighty-nine she was spared the body scans the Bearing Women went through each afternoon. Technology could do a lot but it couldn't make her tired body nurture new life... yet. Oh, she's heard rumors, but that's all they were, surely?

Those Himfluencers just liked to hear the sound of their own voice. No one believed them. No one believed everything they said, anyways. It couldn't all be true. Not even in the United C.U.N.T.ries of America, not after all they'd gone through to make it a clean, safe, place for all decent people.

She missed her friends, sure. But at her age who knew if her friends were still out there? The more you thought about it, it COULD make sense that people would just be more... more comfortable surrounded by people that had the same heritage they did,. The same inbred knowledge and customs, belief systems, strengths, natural inclinations, and...

"Who am I kidding?" she snorted. It was and always had been plain old racism. Racism and greed. Making whole neighborhoods filled with people that shared the same skin color wasn't too difficult, as it turned out. Only the bigger cities and the coastal states kept the protests going well past the time everyone knew it was a done deal. Once the fires thinned out the cities? Well, that must be what happened way back when. Back when God knocked down the Tower of Babel and stirred up the people, each to their own kind.

"Except, that's not the way I remember that story going. It's been awhile but I though the tower stood and the people just didn't understand each other because they all spoke in a different voice?" Jessica jolted at the sound of her voice. There she was, talking to herself again. But, wasn't that the way she'd learned it all those years ago in Sunday School?

The heavy drapery fabric smoothly swooped across the rod as the small observation window reflected her face and the softly lit room behind her as Jessica stood close to the glass waiting for the drone. It used to be lighter this time of day, back before the high rises took advantage of the freedom the dissolution of building height restrictions and urban density control laws. Once the soft peaches and pinks of the sunrise would have bathed the front of the little house and there would have been no need for the yellow LED globe in every room.

Taking advantage of the reflection, Jessica ran her hand across her close-cropped scalp. "You get used to anything, I guess," she whispered. Once her hair had truly grayed she understood that the need for her 'crowning glory' was over. That was for the Bearing Women and it saved so much needless time washing, drying, primping. It was just vanity, after all. Didn't fool anyone. Just vanity. Better to keep it shaved, and the new capsules did help keep the growth slowed, so all the better. Really.

"I miss it," she whispered. "I miss all of it. The colors, the curling, the ribbons, the hairbands. And the nail polish. Mascara. Lip gloss. Even those little pencils that blacked out the edges of my inner eyelids. Karl used to laugh at the faces I'd make and tease me that I'd poke my eye someday."

She looked over her shoulder at the sagging recliner where Karl had 'read a book' as he'd snore after dinner.

"I never did poke myself in the eye though, did I honey? But even if I had I'd do it twenty times over just to hear you tell me again that I looked beautiful. Just to hear your voice. Any voice but my own."

Sighing, Jessica turned back toward the window as the drone scanned her retina and triggered the coffee machine to make a warm steaming cup of Happy juice.

Happy juice for a Happy New Year.