2061

By Bud Lemire

I wake up and I am cold. Seems someone has turned down the heat in the middle of Winter. How could they do that to me? I am naked! Where are my clothes? At the most, I wear something, even just underwear. No wonder I am cold. As realization hits me, I am not even in my apartment anymore. Now, this is very strange. I look around at my surroundings. Some sort of Hospital perhaps.

Is the Covid pandemic over? Is it safe to come out? Nobody is around anywhere. I noticed a shirt and some pants on a chair over there. There is a note on the table. I pick it up and read it. “Dear Bud, we froze your body in December of 2021. We hope you made it through, and if you are reading this, you are somewhere in the future. Also, if you are reading this, we are dead, from the Variants of Covid that kept mutating and getting stronger and stronger and could not be contained. We hope others survived just as you did.” The note is dated December 21, 2061. That means I am almost 102 years old. I look over my body and realize I don't feel that old. Except for a slight pain in my lower back. I reach back to try to get rid of that sharp pain, and I pull out a shard of ice. Ouch! That feels better now.

I walk towards the door and hope and pray someone is still alive out there. Entering the hall, I gaze into rooms and all I see is scattered human skeletons on the floor. They seem to be everywhere, even some in the hallway as I pass by. Damn! I wish those stubborn people back in 2021 would have gotten their vaccines. I would still be in the past among more of the living.

As I go outside, I am happy at least it is a warm summer day. I want to get back to my apartment and see if anyone is alive in the building. It's going to be a long walk, but at least I can look things over on the way. No traffic at all. Cars without anyone driving, and no, they aren't moving. Everything dead, everyone dead. Surely I hope someone at the Tower is still alive. But I have my doubts.

As I walk down Ludington Street Eastward, my thoughts try to remember what was the last time I remember before waking up (or thawing out) just a short while ago.

I worked on the computer, went to my job, returned, and had a snack. Went to bed. No wait, I dozed off in the recliner.

I check my pants to see if I have any keys to get in. No keys. I hope the doors are unlocked. As I pass the downtown area, I see no sign of life. I like my solitude, but I like people as well. I liked it when I could choose to come out and visit with people or stay in and watch some DVD or read or work on the computer. Now the choice is made up for me. As far as I know, it is just me. Only me! I am alone!

People can sometimes get on my nerves and be rude, but they had many great qualities as well. I sure hope somebody out there is alive.

I arrive at the Tower and am thankful the door is unlocked. A note on the office door “In case of emergency, call us at home.” I see the activity room and the lobby are blocked off. I see some skeletons on the floor. Must have been the people who smoke. They come and go often. I was thinking, I hope the elevators work, or it will be a long walk up the stairs to the 15th floor. I find they are working, and soon I am on my way to my apartment. Hope it isn't locked. When I got there, it wasn't locked. Everything was as I remember it. But after 40 years I am sure the food in the refrigerator is no longer any good.

My feet are tired so I decided to take a rest in the recliner, as I think overall that happened.