Adventures In Evil Zombieland 2038 - Episode 1 - The Water Hoops

A new Adventures In Evil Zombieland series, 20 years in the future.

I just woke up 2 minutes ago, 7am on the dot, like always, because of my stupid, authoritarian drone’s siren going off.

A drone, hovering nearby, says mechanically, “You will be docked one credit for insulting your personal security assistant.”

You might be wondering, what’s a personal security assistant? In the year 2038, every tax slave, like me and most other people, have a government mandated drone follow us around 24/7.

Even in the bathroom, you say?

That’s right, even when I’m droppin a G-man in the toilet, I’ve got a man made birdbot watching my every move.    

It’s also a mandate from the scientific dictatorship that everyone gets up at 7am..  So I’m up, against my will, of course. 

Anyway, time to wake up.  Time for a shower.   

“You have used all of your water credits for this month,” the drone informs me dryly.

“That’s not possible! There must be some mistake!”

Floating big brother says, “Science doesn’t make mistakes."

Damn water rations! For the earth, of course.  Ha ha ha, jokes on us slaves. No shower.  I’d better be careful when I’m in public.  If I have what any tax slave considers to be an “undesirable odor” I can lose points on my social credit score.    

“You will be fined 2 credits for using abusive language towards a state mandate.”

“Doesn’t your battery ever run out?”

Maybe I’ll ask my neighbor if I can shower over there.  I don’t think they ever go over their limit.

Knock, knock.    

“Who’s there?”

“Your good ‘ol neighbor, neighbor.”

“I’m busy right now.”

“Please, I used up my water ration and I really need a shower.”

My neighbor’s shaky voice continues, “Well, your social credit score has been dipping lately, and I can’t afford to be associated with you.  Besides, sharing water is illegal, ya know.”

Ok, I’m giving up on the shower.  Guess I’ll have some coffee to comfort myself.    

In my tiny smart kitchen I find something beyond disturbing.  No coffee! Looks like it’s gonna be one of those days.  I’ll run across the street to a coffee shop and get my fix. 

“Running across the street is forbidden.”

“It was a figure of speech, you tyrannical flying bolt pile!” 

So now I’m at the coffee shop.  “I’ll have a large, black coffee, for here, please,” I tell the humanoid robot that has all the charming looks of a junkyard.

“Scan eyes here, please.”

I scan my eyes into the pulsing red circle in the middle of the robot’s chest.

“I’m sorry, it appears that you don’t have any Yudollrubpounds left in your account.”

Red faced, I turn to my drone, “Can’t you put off robbing my account until tomorrow?”

“The government doesn’t rob, it appropriates.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Stark silence.    

I turn back to the heartless coffee cashier.  “Isn’t there something you can do? Or that I can do?”

“You could go see a benevolent financier at the World Bank and possibly take out a high interest loan.”

I kick the ground and walk out.  A loan for coffee.  What has the world come to?

I know what I’ll do.  I’ll go down to the United Nations Department of Water and Trash Collection and see if there wasn’t an error in my water usage this month.    

“Please be advised, you only have two travel credits left.”

I facepalm.

Ok, so two credits will get me to the water department, but then I’ll have to walk home.  It’s only about 8 miles.  It’ll be fine.

After waiting 45 minutes for an economy autonomous vehicle to arrive, I get zipped over to the water department of the scientific dictatorship.  The poorer you are, the more you wait.    

I stroll into the shiny glass tower and walk up to the robot receptionist.  “I’m here to file a complaint.”

A stretchy female face shows mock concern, “I’m sorry, but we are not accepting any more complaints today.  Can I help you with something else?”

Thanks to my phenomenally quick wit, I come up with, “Yes, I’d like to speak to a human technocrat so I can shower them with praise.”

A forced smile is unleashed from the sitting pile of circuits, “Are you lying?” 

I gulp, “No, I’d never lie to a benevolent tool of authoritarianism like you.”

Luckily, robots haven’t progressed to the point where they can detect sarcasm yet.

“Very well, you’re in luck.  We have a few praise openings left.  Please take a seat.”

I take a profoundly uncomfortable seat next to a blank-faced old man.  “Why are government seats always made of metal.  Do you ever wonder that?”

Lobster eyes dance off my face and then dart away, “Oh no, sonny, I don’t wonder.”

I huff and roll my eyes.  “Hey old man, you’re old enough to remember the days when we didn’t have a giant green thug army ration our water.  In fact, lots of people even had their own private water sources, something called ‘wells’, I think.  Do you remember, old man?”

He looks at me blankly, “Oh no, sonny, I don’t remember that.  I only remember what’s necessary.”

I shiver, “You got that vaccine with the chip in it, didn’t you, old man?”

He gives a goofy grin, “Oh yes, and now I’m so much happier.”

I cringe and scoot over a seat.  Damn vaccines.  Damn brainchips.

My drone speaks up, “You will be fined 3 credits.  One for a derogatory statement about vaccines, another for your brainchips comment, and another for the ‘P’ word.”

Oh, brother.  I forgot, the word ‘private’ is forbidden.

The drone drones on, “Due to your lack of Yudollrubpounds in your account, you will need to take a loan from a benevolent financier at the World Bank.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, not right now.  I’ve gotta settle this water score first.    

After waiting 3 hours…...

“NEXT!” screams a lizard-eyed, puffy cheeked parasite from her cushy perch on high.  I swagger up to the parasite and take a seat.  “Good morning, your royal mind-controlled parasite. Are those contacts that make your eyes look so lizard-like?”

She blushes, “Oh, you noticed.  Why yes, they’re the new augmented reality type.  I’m actually on a beach right now sipping a beverage with a little umbrella.”

Note to self.  If you insult someone, then follow it with a compliment. It increases the chances of not facing repercussions for the insult.

“Does that make your evil job, stealing money and working for a merciless technocracy, easier to handle morally, pretending you’re on a beach with the aid of some high tech gadgetry? By the way, I LOVE your holographic necklace!”

“Oh, why thank you! I always love these praise sessions!” she squawks.    

“Actually, I’m here because I’m out of water credits and I need to take a shower.” 

Her cheeks puff out more and she says smugly, “That’s funny, it says here that you came in for a praise session.”

“Nope.  I lied just to get past the tyrannical robot at the reception desk.”

She squirms, “Oh, well, I’m afraid I can’t help you.  If you need more water credits, we can’t do anything for you here.”

I stare at her for a moment to see if she’s at all aware of the irony of her statement.  “But this is the water department, right?”

“Yes," she mutters blankly.

“And you can’t help me get more water?”

“Oh, no, not here,” she giggles.

I facepalm and sigh, “Would you be a good little authoritarian parasite and tell me where I can get more water? That blouse really brings out your eyes.”

“I suppose you could try and do what the managerial class does.  They just get more Yudollrubpounds from the World Bank and buy more water credits.”

“Is that what you do?” I ask anxiously.

“Oh, you betcha! I’ve never run out of water.  You’ll never get a loan, though.  Your social credit score is way too low for that.  If you’d watch your tongue more, then maybe you could get a loan one day.  But today it’s pretty much hopeless.”

I narrow my eyes, “It’s hopeless because billions of mind-controlled order-following ignorant stooges like you violently control and rob people! Not too many years ago, people actually used to have private water supplies.  There, I said it! PRIVATE!”   

I look up at my ever-present drone, “Go ahead and rob me, you satanic tool! Private! Private! Private!”

I turn back to lizard-eyes, “And people used to have freedom of speech, too!”

She cackles, “Oh, such silly myths! Private water! Freedom of speech!”

I look up at the parasite’s drone and yell, “Well, aren’t you going to fine her! She said private!”

Lizard-eyes twists her head and says, “Oh, I can’t get fined for that.  I was just refuting your silly antics.  This meeting is over.  Bye-bye!”

I stand up and start stomping.  Before getting out of her sight, I turn around, “I will get more water this month, you’ll see! I’ll get that loan from those occult demon banksters! Just you watch!”

So now I’m walking 8 miles home.  No time to try for the loan today.  The banksters close up shop at 2pm.  I’ll try my luck with them another day.  See you then! 

Thanks for your time and attention!

Top image is from gearmoose.com