Forest

You awaken to birdsong, the noises of the forest. You look at your watch. 10/25 7:25 AM. The sunrise. Crisp air makes steam as you breathe, the cold morning dew accumulates on your sleeping bag. This would likely be the last night you spent sleeping outside under the stars. You get up, and go to your garden. It is a beautiful garden, with zucchinis, beans on an arched trellis, cucumbers, salmon berries and blackberries, and so much more all in little raised beds surrounded in chicken wire. You have always enjoyed seeing the fruits of your labor, literally and figuratively, so being out here in these woods where you can do that has been a great choice. Everything you've done has given you that satisfaction. The cabin you built after a couple of years took time, but it feels much warmer than the lean-to that you now use for seed storage and winter squashes. The first night you spent in it was wonderful. The sub-zero sleeping bag you brought with you coupled with the furs was good, but the elevation of the sleeping bag off the cold dirt was a much appreciated change. The mid sized firepit you made with a roasting spit has gotten more and more well built in all your time of being out here. Currently, you are boiling some stream water to add your instant coffee packets to. Working with your hands is just lovely.

You look at your watch after breakfast and cleanup. 10/25 9:03 AM. You darned your rabbit fur mittens, as you saw some of the damages before you needed to use them. It is always better to stop a problem before it starts, as the damages of a rip only grow with the time you let it go unnoticed. Sewing was a skill set your grandma taught you, as she was the first person to hear about your desire to get out of society, and the only one who truly understood why. She thought about it herself when she was a girl, but stuck with learning the skills that were dying off. Being a woman meant she could be a stay at home mom, someone who was provided for financially for their skills other than her capabilities to work at a desk. Society had advanced, but not enough for you to be a stay at home dad. She was your babysitter for many years as she was both family, and cheap. Finishing up your mittens, you take a look over all the rest of your winter clothes. During the night you got up and changed into your heavier night clothes for winter, so you know their use will be sooner, rather than later.

You look at your watch after getting home and skinning the squirrel you caught in the trap you set yesterday. 10/25 5:48 PM. You reset all of the traps you have, and moved a couple that hadn't caught anything in a while. You add some pinecones to the fire and start to smoke the new squirrel, and sit in a camp chair nearby. It was warm, and it smelled great. Eventually, the sun set, and you had to wrap the meat and hang it up in a tree. You'd have to finish that soon, but there was no way you would risk leaving it on the fire. That would be practically begging an animal to take it. You put on your layers, and go to bed.

You look at your watch after waking up, seeing the pink and red in the sky after walking out the front door. 10/26 7:26 AM. You put the jerky back over the fire while you got ready. With the notice of yesterday's coldness, you know it is time to harvest. Winter is coming soon, and you haven't yet canned all the food you needed. You glance over to your shopping list, dated 10/26. Today is the day you planned to leave for the store, the bimonthly trip your least favorite activity. Everything was too advanced for you nowadays. You were no engineer, and were born with an unfortunate technological shortcoming. Nothing can be done without a device, nothing can be optimized without an AI, why would you even try something for yourself when a computer could do it perfectly for you the first time? Even you, with a disdain and a disability for all things tech, have this watch. It runs on batteries, but the most important thing about it was that it wasn't AI. It was one of your grandfather's, he kept a large box of them for when they broke. You have never been more grateful for forethought. Nobody made them anymore. It made being a man left behind by time a much easier task.

You look at your watch. 10/26 10:32 AM. You've packed up, foldable rolling cart in a backpack with several dried jerky pieces wrapped in beeswax paper and the last of your canned food from last year. With all the advances, nobody had ever thought to make a reusable canning lid. Aluminum cans are much cheaper to manufacture, so nobody wants to improve them. And while computers are hard, you are not stupid. You would not reuse a canning lid. Starting to leave, you grab a handful of salmonberries to snack on, and trek. This journey is much harder on the way back with your rolling cart, but until then it is a beautiful scenery. That is why you chose it here. Stepping over your stream at a thin part, your shoe squelches in the mud. A spiderweb glistens in the sun. Eventually, you get to the road closest to your home. This is a major highway, the floating cars blow past at 95 mph exactly. It is quite the breeze if you are walking next to the road, and you were indeed. You had quite the trip ahead of you.

10/26 6:45 PM. You've walked 15 miles, took a break for lunch and dinner, and stopped just before you got to the urban sprawl. Most don't appreciate your presence, as optimized societies shouldn't have homeless people. The first time you made this trip it took a couple of days as you weren't quite used to walking, and then when you set up near the store, you had to run from the police. It was exhausting on top of you being already exhausted. You haven't made the same mistake since. Your tin of money feels just a little heavier every time you're in town. You have to be conscious of it, or else your trip was for nothing. You only bring what you need just in case, but that walk back without a meal would be miserable. You set up camp, unrolling your sleeping bag from inside of your backpack and wrapping yourself in it, cold and hungry. You finish a can of pickled radishes with your jerky scraps left from dinner. Tucking in, you watch people walk around like clockwork. Their weird glasses and funny fashion were always entertaining, and even more so today. You drift to sleep to the sound of whooshing cars in the background.

10/27 3:02 AM. You've woken up, it is dark and very cold. You are shivering, the weather is unforgiving. That is not why you have awoken. In the moonlight you can see a pack of collared dogs. They keep their distance, but you can tell they smell the old jerky pack you finished. You throw it over, and they find it has nothing. They leave hungry and disappointed. That was weird, but that is a city for you. Nothing makes sense in a city. You rustle around in your sleeping bag, trying to warm up before you close your eyes again.

You wake up before sunrise, the dew soaking your sleeping bag, truly uncomfortable. 10/27 6:55 AM. It is not long before the store opens, as it is a 7 AM to 9 PM store, which is good on the days you left earlier. You could get away from the city after shopping if you did that, but you wanted to let your jerky dry all the way. You start your walk after wringing out your sleeping bag and tucking it back in your backpack. You pick up your wax paper that was used to wrap your jerky that you threw last night and tuck it in the pocket of your shirt.

You get to the store, looking at your watch as you walk in the front door. You made good time. 10/27 8:46 AM. There were no cashiers at the registers. Odd, you think, but there is nobody there, so maybe it is a cost saving thing. You pull out your cart, as you wouldn't be taking anything that couldn't fit, and you found it easiest to just use it to shop rather than a cart. You pick up soup cans, your canning lids in great quantity, a couple of new spices, more thread, four loaves of bread, instant coffee, and some exotic things for meals on your way home. A banana and a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast, a pre-made deli meat sandwich for lunch, and a bag of truffle kettle chips and white rice for dinner. You should be back by then, so you should be able to cook the rice on the fire. Suddenly, a huge line of people walk past you, all with their own shopping carts. Their smart glasses reflected their shopping lists. They grab exactly what they need and all leave in unison. Uncanny. You look at your watch. 9:00 AM exactly. Your hair on the back of your neck bristles. Cities. This is why you moved. You continue to the register, having got everything on your list. You wait at the end of the line, each register having a cashier and a couple people at it. When you get to the front of the line, the cashier starts to leave.

"Hey, I'd like to check out." You call after her. She blinks at you.

"You aren't supposed to be here. But yeah, I can ring you up." How uncomfortable. She scans your items, and they total $80.63. You hand over cash, or at least you try to. There is a blankness in her eyes. She does not know what cash is. A spark shoots from her glasses. She leaves without saying another word to you, just leaving you with your groceries and a now entirely empty store. You look around in confusion, incapable of paying. Your eyes catch the news display. You stiffen.

 GLASSES ON RECALL, MACHINES TAKING OVER 9/12