At 2:00 pm. It’s blazing hot outside and strangely silent. I walk wearily away from the stainless steel building. My foggy mind holds on to my calm rationality. Illogical thoughts flow to the rhythm of my lack of oxygen. The rain hit me like shards of ice. Drops of fragments attach itself to words of self-worthlessness. And the shards of pain shackle my knees. Sparks of failure exude its presence. The wavelength of numbness hit me at the light of speed. I sense the word mediocrity hit on replay as I trudge down the paved sidewalk.
My Middle-Tier interview is a flunk. I’m not hired as an intern at a High Tier company. Stuck as a Middle-Class citizen and to top it off, a fresh college graduate. My job prospects are grim: factory worker, voice recorder or… Suicide diver. You can guess it. I’m the black sheep of the family. My name is Diana Law and I hate this name. A common name from the 21 century, but pretty unattractive to today’s standards.
Propaganda became an instant tool. It’s the 23 century. And life is insanely stressful and fast-paced for the Billennials. Teens being brainwashed for their self-worth’s employment value: metal surgery. Lapis chips are the cheapest. Hence, why my mother agreed to it. Some exclusive surgeries, reserved for Elites are not revealed to the public; endless options for the enhancement of language learning, speed memory, and heightened charisma. Gadgets are ingrained into our lives. Mails are sent to my capsule apartment by drones. Androids equate to the status of human organs. Maybe even more valuable to our human eyes. I replace my black high heels for a pair of white Converse sneakers and I crumble the paper in my hands and I ran as fast as I could.