When the daylight has faded

2030 (#hard)

Wearily, I trudge through the cold November night, clutching my shopping pass for the day tightly, ready to whip it out quickly when the robot patrols come.

The shopping centre is dark, just a few lights here and there for the handful of early Christmas shoppers who managed to obtain a day pass like me. Not that there are many shops left. Everything is ordered online these days and delivered by drones. People work remotely wherever and whenever possible. School has turned into a lessons-management tools event. Answer Garden, learning apps or learning snacks, anything to brighten up a black digital screen. On the upside, only the smartest computer whiz kids can play truant effectively these days.

A loud whistle startles me.

"Keep your distance, please!" a robotic voice blares out of the myriad of speakers adorning the walls of the mall.

Oops. My bad. I had been lost in thought and gotten too close to the shopper five metres in front of me, triggering one of the sensors in the floor. Immediately, I fall back. I cannot afford the drastic fines given to distance-rules sinners.

My gaze lands on a shop window. Boy, I haven't seen a mannequin advertising clothes in at least three years. Yeah, that sounds about right. The last time I was out anywhere was just before my birthday three years ago. Nothing much has changed since then, I realise. But how much it has changed since I was a kid! I stop walking and just stare. Hard to imagine what this shopping centre looked like ten years ago.

Suddenly, a deluge of lights come on, blinding me. Red and white and green. Christmas music blares from the speakers. I hear voices all around me, feel a small hand grabbing mine. I blink, shake my head, blink again. But the scene remains unchanged. Right in front of me, I see a band of three competing against the speakers with an old tune. The Power of Love by Huey Lewis & The News. I instantly feel transported back in time. The music stabs straight into my heart and soul. I haven't heard live music in more than a decade, and I've forgotten how immediate, how powerful it is compared to the tin-can music of the internet streaming services. Forgotten also that voices can be just background babble.

I look down to find a little boy's hand in mine, his hand so familiar, his haircut, his eyes. As my brain registers that I'm looking at a younger version of myself, I snap back into present day's grim reality.

I'm still standing in front of the shop window. It's deathly quiet around me. In the gloom I can only just make out another three lonely shoppers.

If only one of the vaccines had worked, if the virus hadn't mutated, becoming increasingly aggressive, if the desperate government hadn't enforced an indefinite lockdown for the protection of the population, effectively destroying the very thing they pledged to protect. No social contacts equals no finding new partners equals no babies being born equals no population in the long run.