Bill and Todd – Laying Into The Future

One second, I’m counting down from ten. Todd’s shouting, “Dude, the future’s gonna be awesome!”

The next second—blink—he’s flat on his back in a hospital bed, grinning like a moron.

“Champions. That’s what we are!” He makes a fist and kicks the sky like Kurt Cobain. Being flat on his back, it looks like the flailing of a dying cockroach.

I glance around. The walls are plastered with certificates—2045, 2048, 2049. If this is a USRAID prank, they’ve gone full Kubrick with the details.

Todd’s already scheming. “First thing we do when we get out? Get busy.” His eyebrows dance like mating caterpillars “But, like… not with our grandkids. That’d be messed up.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He points at the dates. “Fifty years, man. How am I supposed to know who’s related to me?”

IV tubes dangle from his arm, but Todd’s focused on one thing. Some things never change—even after cryo-freeze.

A guy walks in, mixed-race, says his name is George. (Turns out, everyone’s mixed-race in 2049.)

“Good morning, gentlepeople,” he says, like he’s reading off a teleprompter.

“I’m a dude, and I’m not gentle,” Todd snaps. “Where’s Dr. Richardson?”

"Dr Richardson." George drags a finger across his throat.

“Dr. Chan?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nurse Jimenez?”

“You’d better stop asking while you're ahead,” George says, and checks our IV tubes. “Vitals look normal.”

I’ve got more important issues on my mind than medical stats right now. “What year is it?”

George casts me a glance. “2049,”

My head spins.

Todd yells out, “Dude! I want to meet 2049 babes.” He stares up at the ceiling as if he’s already planning pickup lines.

“You want to date women in 2049?” George asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

“If you’re from 1999, boy, do you have a lot to learn,” George says, whistles, and rolls his eyes.

“George, my dude, your clothes look kind of gay.”

“Hey mitochondrial fucker, you can't use the G word in 2049.”

After Todd mentioned George’s clothes, I can't help but notice the patches of cheek skin showing through his pants.

I decide I need to learn the lay of the land and spend the next few days watching TV. They call it ‘streaming’ but it's the same thing. I realize everything about how they talk and act is different in 2049. Damn! I didn’t fit in it high school in 1999. It dawns on me, I’m going to be a total loser in 2049.

Todd is too dumb to figure it out. He obsesses with getting “laid into the future.” He learns everything about Huawei Phones, Apps, how to make TikTok videos. He ‘goes viral’ with a video called “Blast From the Past.”

He makes it abundantly clear what 'blast' means.

Three days later, we’re out of the hospital, and staying in a halfway house for people recovering from the past. It's full of people who talk like Austin Powers and sing Wayne's World songs.

Todd swaggers in, waving his Huawei SmartBand™ like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Got us a date, bro.”

At 7pm, we 'transport' to The Last Glacier.

Enter Zara and Luna—wearing mood-reactive outfits that flash neon when they laugh. (Which is often, usually at us.)

The restaurant has no menus. Just brain scans.

“You think your order,” Zara explains.

Todd smirks. “What if I’m thinking about something... inappropriate”

“You’ll get something deep-fried,” Luna deadpans.

The food arrives: lab-grown 'meat' that tastes like mushrooms and regret, and jelly cubes that might be dessert or alien eggs.

“Is this… food?” I poke it.

“Carbon-neutral, cruelty-free, nano-enriched,” Zara says.

“So, yes,” Luna adds.

I take a bite of the desert. “Tastes like kale.”

“That’s the nano-nutrients. They’re good for your brain,” Luna says.

“My brain’s fine. My taste buds, on the other hand, are filing a complaint,”

When we finish, Todd slaps down a crumpled $20 bill from 1999.

Zara bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, is this vintage?”

“No, it’s money,” Todd says, defensive.

“We scan our wrist-chips now,” Luna says, like she’s explaining gravity to a hamster.

The night ends with holographic hugs—which is just us flailing at air like idiots.

“See you in Fourth Life!” Zara calls out as they leave.

I turn to Todd. “What’s the metaverse?”

We sit on a futuristic park bench, eating 3D-printed ice cream that tastes like tofu--I had it once at a Japanese restaurant.

“Well, that was… something!”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna stick to dating people from the 1990s. You know, people who understand the concept of a joke,” Todd says.

An elderly woman shuffles past us with a walker.

“She’s our age,” I say.

“That’s not funny. Do they have 1999 porn in 2049?” Todd asks, completely serious.

I sigh. “Champions. That’s what we are.”

The next day, George pulls me aside.

“Todd’s going to die on Thursday, and we’d like your advice about something."

In the future, people are vague about the little stuff, then bluntly honest about the huge stuff.

“Whoa, slow down. Todd is going to…die?”

“Cincinnati syndrome. A degenerative heart condition known since early cryogenics.”

“Oh shit.”

“We could freeze him and send him into the future where they might have a cure, but unfortunately…” He looks sideways.

“Spit it out.”

“President Vance just made felons ineligible for cryogenic treatment.”

Todd robbed a video game store the day after he got released from juvvie in 1999. How he got enrolled in the medical experiment.

“In 2049, we have funerals the day before a person dies, so they can watch their own tribute. But, we’re not sure how he’s going to react.”

“I’ve got an idea.”

I throw Todd an Austin Powers-themed “Welcome Home” party.

George digs up all 17 of Todd’s grandkids. Todd’s reaction? “Seventeen? Nice.”

He spends the night dancing, laughing, and hitting on women fifty years older than him (and who are, thankfully, not related to him).

The next morning? Todd is dead. Peacefully.

George corners me after. “Did Todd tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About your welcome home party on Monday.”

“My party?” I freeze. “Oh, shit. I have Cincinnati Syndrome.”

George nods. “But since you only have misdemeanors, so you’re eligible to be frozen again and sent to a future where they might have a cure.” He shrugs. “Wanna get frozen again?”

I think about my previous afternoon with Luna and smile. (There are some things I didn't tell you about.)

“Whoa! In my third life, I might have grandchildren!”

George grins. “Champion.”