The Crappy Future I’d Love To Live In

by Jacob Murray

I buy an Instant Pot with my universal basic income, but my roommate uses it and doesn’t clean it. Now it has rice caked all over it. It’s really hard to scrub off.

My relatives in Flint, Michigan have clean water, so now I have no excuse not to go visit them.

I’m using the free Wi-Fi that is my right thanks to the newly passed Economic Bill of Rights. I accidentally close out the wrong tab and lose all the stuff that was in my cart.

I log onto my universal healthcare portal. It takes a long time to load each page because the website is swarmed with traffic because SOOOO many people have healthcare. I decide to grab a snack while I wait. In the kitchen I notice my Instant Pot’s dirty again. Goddammit! I literally just washed it. I wish my roommate would move out, but I know he won’t, because it’s a great location and the apartment is automatically rent-controlled thanks to the city’s new Housing Commission.

My password isn’t working on my universal healthcare portal. Which is strange because I always use the same password for everything. I haven’t logged on since last year, so this could be a problem. I try eighteen variations of my normal password, but nothing works.

I try answering my security question. It asks me: “What was your favorite novel when you were in 4th grade?” I have no idea what the answer could possibly be. A part of me is even shocked I chose that as my security question. I didn’t have a favorite novel when I was in 4th grade, did I? I can’t remember. This is so frustrating.

I type in The Hobbit, but that doesn’t work. Neither does Harry Potter. I put my Cheez-It Grooves down and start rummaging through my desk to see if I wrote the answer down somewhere. As a desperate, last-ditch effort, I type Captain Underpants as my answer. That doesn’t work either.

The screen says: Looks like you’re having trouble. Would you like us to text you a link? I click yes. Ping! The screen notifies me that a text has been sent to my phone. I wait one minute but no message ever comes. Upon closer inspection, I see they sent the message to my old phone number.

Forget it. I’ll deal with this tomorrow. I’m off all day because of the new four-day work week that’s federally mandated.

I finish all of my Cheez-It Grooves while watching the live-stream of Keith Richards’ 132nd birthday party on NBC. He’s still got it!

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