1. Time to get up
7:46 am…
The first alarm jolts me awake, but it’s not the sharp buzz that spikes my heart rate. It’s the red blinking light on my Omni-bracelet. Access Denied flashes on the screen, pulsing like a warning, the message burning into my groggy mind.
Not again.
I swipe the screen, but the message stays. My breath catches, and my heart kicks into overdrive. This thing controls everything—my access to classes, transport, even my meals. Without it, I’m just another ghost in this city. I swipe again, harder, faster. Nothing. Five more minutes, just five more minutes. Though I know it’s not time that’s going to fix this.
The second alarm rings, snapping me out of my panic. I sit up, my breath sharp in my throat, and reach for the thin metal band that wraps around my wrist, tapping it, willing it to work. The screen flickers, then mercifully, the red text dissolves into blue. Access Granted.
I let out a shaky breath, running my fingers through my hair. My mind spins with possibilities. Someone could have hacked it. Or maybe I did something wrong. Maybe this perfect, utopian system finally caught onto the fact that I don’t belong here.
The bus arrives just as I reach the stop, its red double-decker frame gleaming under the morning sky. A Union Jack ripples across the sides in a digital loop. I force a smile at the familiar sight, hiding my anxiety.
I swipe my Omni-bracelet at the sensor. It takes a second too long to register, and my stomach lurches again. Then, with a soft beep, the fare is deducted. My pulse steadies, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.
I climb the stairs to the second deck, grabbing the front seat. The view from here is perfect, with London stretching out like a city from a dream, futuristic and flawless, hiding all its cracks beneath layers of glass and tech. I rest my head against the window and watch.
People swarm the streets below, their faces buried in smart devices: smart watches, smart glasses, smart everything. A pedestrian walkway slides into view, carrying people like luggage on a conveyor belt, each person glued to their screens, eyes empty.
It’s 2042, and still, people are in a perpetual rush, in an endless struggle with time. Despite all the convenience, no amount of technology seems to free them from it.
The red flash of Access Denied still lingers in my mind, nagging at me. It’s just another Monday, but something isn’t right.
