A TALE OF TWO CITIES

A cautionary tale set in the time of 2200. 

‘Open please Roland..!’ The large screen gently lifted to the slit in the ceiling revealing the cityscape below. 

Roland could still feel the muscle burn in his arms and legs from his Virtu-Tri that morning.

Cycling in Arizona and running in New Zealand was always fun, but the swim in the Serpentine was bitterly cold and the smell of swan poo, although realistic, was an unwelcome new ingredient in the exercise package.

His apartment (part of Virokills employment portfolio) stood 120 floors above London. Below lay the green velvet cushion of the eco parkways with the apartment blocks piercing through like silver needles, their solar curtains gleaming in the warm light of dawn. To his right he could see St Paul’s standing proud in the HistroTown zone. He had been once on an outing from school, and had watched flics about the old times. Perhaps he should go again with his family when all that was settled.

‘Bonjour Roland!’ He turned round to see his mother standing in the corner. ‘What do you think?’ Roland’s mother was 135 years old but what he saw twirling in front of him was a 40-year old icon ‘Brigitte Bardot darling,’ she simmered. ‘What do you think?’ The body lab in Nice had done a wonderful job.

‘Fabulous Ma… better than the Fonda look last Month.’

‘Had to sell your father’s jet yacht but he was growing tired of it and now he’s got Brigitte to keep his mind on reaching 150!’

‘Spare me the details Ma.’

‘Still coming Sunday?’

They had an arranged family birthday lunch at the Blue Mosque in Istanbul only 2 hours away by Induction Tube.

‘Sure Ma…. Elizabeth has some good news.’ His mother purred with excitement. The couple had been trying for a baby for years ‘Gotta go Ma… keep safe.’

‘Keep safe honey… see you Sunday.’

Roland dressed in his work suit of Thermoli and positioned the Virokills badge neatly on the lapel. The lift took him up to the Drone Glide station at the top of his apartment and he sat down with neighbours and a few excited school children. The trip took 20 mins before he reached Virokills office dome set in the tech zone in Cambridge. It gave him a chance to take in the view.

The crystal clear Thames traced its way through the Eco Park and the preserved buildings, which had long lost their original purpose but were now used for recreation in whatever form was trending at the moment. Roland reflected on the fact that his younger brother had become a New Artisan and was learning old skills with his fellow Followers in Shoreditch. They had formed a cooperative with musicians and artists and were broadcasting on the flic screen twice a week.

Such radical entertainment was tolerated by the Liberal State as it did not conflict with the New Vision as agreed at the Peking Convention of 2110.

Roland shrugged his shoulders, entertainment was one thing, keeping them safe was another.

‘Welcome Sir,’ the Welcome Robot greeted Roland and held his hand. ‘All clear for entry… have a wonderful day.’

The lab was almost transparent with incandescent light, a vast array of information filled the flic screens on either side.

‘Morning Thompson….. anything new?’

‘Well don’t know what this is...’ Roland’s colleague glided his finger over the table and a large moving image appeared on the screen. It was a microview of a cellular system, ‘It’s not any of our C2031 series…. much more simple. Found it in phlegm of one of those poor buggers in the isolation ward… Artisans they call them. He had been making a pizza from frozen tomatoes from 2021…..probably nothing to worry about. He says you’re related?’