Prologue
September 30, 2050
Andy sat at his desk half listening to his 10th grade teacher and half gazing at the warm sunshine. He was waiting to grab his ball and lay up a few hoops at the nearby basketball court. His short sandy-blonde hair was like the rest of his family, but he was the only one in the class with hair like that.
Everyone in his class was unique, which meant everyone was basically just like him. It made things more interesting. Lined up against the wall from left to right in rows were Russell, Charlton, Davenport, Caley, the Fishers, and Anson, who sat nearest to the teacher.
He loved the stories of when grocers kept shelves stocked with an endless supply of food, all different varieties, and sizes. He often wondered what they tasted like, and what it was like to visit some of the different places where they were made and what it would be like to visit there before all the trouble started. But most of all, he loved the little stories about how the people out on the farms did this or that.
He recalled seeing the old two-dimensional music videos like Elton John’s “Imagine” that was videoed in 1980 with tons of people all standing around close together. He couldn’t imagine being in a crowd like that! What with all the diseases and germs and …. he shivered.
His teacher continued talking about a few historical points leading up to the great pandemic. But Andy's attention kept shifting to the warm beams of sunshine that intersected his hand from the window on the left side of the room.
“So, class, what do you think?” the teacher asked.
Andy’s eyes shifted to the front of the room. He really was a good student, but in the old days they might have said he had ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder. Of course, with the new medical understandings as to how the brain developed, most of the old ideas were as obsolete as the pandemic. Not to mention that class sizes were now small at nine per room.
“What about you, Andy?” he asked.
Andy paused, wanting to answer, but then glanced back out the window at the warm sun. The classroom was geothermally cooled, like everything else in the encampment. But the class was just a couple of degrees too cool for his liking, not enough to make it uncomfortable but just enough to make the warmth from the rays of sunshine that intersected his skin a bit distracting.
The teacher saw the glint in Andy’s eyes that not only beckoned him outside but also called him back to a time before the present, and a time the teacher was discussing at that moment. The teacher wished he could show them, physically take them. Of course, there were virtual tours. But that only made Andy wonder what it was like back then.
“What are your thoughts on the Middle East Peace treaty that led to the complete withdrawal of US troops and carved out a historic agreement between the Israelis and Palestinians?”
Andy slowly inhaled, trying hard to think about it. “Was that before or after the 2020 Covid-19 outbreak?” he asked.
The teacher smiled. “After,” he replied.
Andy thought about it and gave a standard reply, his usual interested but unknowing kind of thing. Despite what he read in the history books and watched in the videos, what he didn’t have a sense for was how they felt.
He could see from some of the videos that people in distress displayed all sorts of emotions. Images of the Watts Riots, Nine-Eleven, protests, and the aftermath of war all depicted horrific sadness.
What Andy didn’t know was how they felt when things weren’t so chaotic. Whatever the problem, most people were not on the front lines. They stayed at home or at work a great distance from the harshness of reality.
“Mr. Rodriguez?” Andy asked, raising his hand.
He smiled, happy to see Andy engaged and asking another question.
“What do you think life was like back then? I mean, how do you think people felt? Things are good for us here. At least I think they are, even without all that stuff they used to have. But sometimes I wonder if I could ever decide what to do. There were just so many choices.”
“That’s a great question, Andy. They were just like you or me. Everyone was different. Every family had their own unique set of circumstances or conditions. Each country had its own realities, so the short answer is that it depended on where they were and how they reacted to their own challenges and opportunities.”
The rest of the class period followed the same pattern, question and answer followed by a few interactive group activities. But Andy’s mind kept shifting to the warm rays of sun, his thoughts going back to the waking dreams he often had of what he thought it might have been like. Sometimes he thought of a time before man. A time before the present, when an ice cap covered where they were now, at the very bottom of the Southern Hemisphere, Antarctica.
Andy saw a rushing pattern go by him. He turned to his right and heard the powerful diesel engine of a bus roaring down the street. Everywhere around him there were people on the sidewalks, going into and out of tall buildings. Nearby, there was a school much larger than the one he was now in. “Hargrove High School” was emblazoned in large letters above the building. Hundreds of students were going into the school.
Someone brushed right by his blue coveralls and grunted. The woman turned and shouted an expletive and then returned to talking on a cell phone. The diversity of people and clothes blended against the concrete and steel background, painting a mosaic unlike any other.
Andy took it all in and was overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. The sights and sounds of a major metropolitan city vibrant with people and life. And, in the distance, a car swerved, rushing a red light. Andy was right in its path and….
The bell rang.
“Andy!” Mason said, jarring Andy from his daydream.
Andy was usually the first one out the door, but this time, his thoughts got the better of him. His bag was already packed, and the ball took up most of its space. The textbooks stayed in the class, and the only other thing he needed was the holoprojector. He swiftly grabbed it. Andy rushed towards the door.
He met up with his best friend, Mason, and they angled towards the exit. “So what do you think it was like?” Andy asked.
“I don’t know, man,” Mason said. “Why are you always so interested in what life was like back then?”
As they walked farther away from the school, the prefabbed modular appearance took on a stark contrast to the back. Lush green grass surrounded the square shaped school hall. The grounds were beautiful, and they’d both grown accustomed to the school's appearance, but it looked so different from many of the schools he’d seen in old movies, the same but different. But that was the same as everything else, the same but different. It fed Andy's insatiable appetite for curiosity.
Mason stole the ball from Andy’s bag and ran to the court. “Twenty-one?” Mason asked.
“Horse,” Andy replied, taking back the ball from Mason’s hand.
The court was underutilized. Andy had seen the urban courts in videos, surrounded by tall buildings, packed with kids and adults grappling to get their share of space and time on the court.
It was nice to have it all to themselves. It relaxed him, let Andy think about all they had and all the reasons they had to be grateful. Andy and Mason put on their holoprojectors and the court was now packed with other kids.
Andy stepped back behind the three-point line, arching his arms, careful of his form before he jumped and released the ball.
“See if you can beat that?” Andy said.
Mason was already sweating, and they weren’t even to “H” yet, though he suspected he would be soon. Andy was much taller than Mason, but not quite as stout. Mason always said it was all the muscle he packed in such a small package.
Andy’s ball swished through the hoop, hitting nothing but net. “And the crowd roars,” Andy said.
“They’re going to be cheering for me now,” Mason said as he retrieved the ball and moved into position. Mason jumped. The ball released half a second before his feet left the ground.
“It’s going. It’s going. It’s …. Aww. Maybe next time,” Andy said, quickly grabbing the rebound.
The game went back and forth over the next twenty minutes, mostly in Andy’s favor, who’d been playing since he was two in the miniature version his dad had for him in his room, one of the few standard toys available.
On the last letter, Andy arched, tossing in the ball in a half-attempt at giving Mason extra time on the court. They both didn’t expect it to go in.
Andy eyed the ball as it narrowed in on its target, landing squarely in the hole. “Ouch. Looks like you lost again,” Andy said.
Mason smiled. He always lost, but he didn’t care so much. He loved it out there as much as Andy did. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mason said.
“One more game?” Andy asked. But he already knew the answer. Mason always played only one game, and Andy always stayed behind to play one more with himself. It gave him time to think, time to wonder.
Ten minutes later, Andy left the school courtyard and headed for home. On the street adjacent to the school, Andy counted each modular home, house by house. Each one had a porch with a small loft on one side, and a window which fronted the street.
The houses bled together. Street by street and row by row, he counted. And they were all the same, just like his. Each house had two bedrooms and a living room, one bathroom and a small kitchen with a family dining area. Each of the units was small by historical comparison, but there was plenty of space for Andy. At least that’s what he thought.
The late afternoon sun grew unbearable. Morning and late evening were the best times. But Andy didn’t mind it. He kept walking, but he had to be careful. If he didn’t pay attention it was easy to miss his house since they all looked the same.
Ten minutes later, Andy arrived, strolling down his narrow sidewalk and up to the porch. Now that Andy thought about it, the houses were on the small side. But they were all clean yet well lived in. Most of the families who lived nearby were friendly and inviting.
It wasn’t exactly suburbia, but it wasn’t an old inner-city block, either. But everyone he knew was kind. He had lots of reasons to be grateful. For the little they had, they had love in abundance.
“Hey, Dad,” Andy said, tossing his bag on the couch.
“How was school?”
“Same as always. It was fine,” Andy said, pausing. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Were things always as great as they are now? I mean, I know people had a lot of problems back then, but you still can be happy with problems, right? What was it like? Oh, and what was the great mold outbreak?” Andy said, throwing that last part in as an aside, something his teacher mentioned just before the end of class when he wasn’t really listening.
His dad inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling. “What was it like? Hmmm. Let’s see,” he said before beginning a long story that Andy could tell would go into the evening if he let it.
