rough draft - unfinished
"Welcome, Brent Skinner. You have 0 prophecies in your Inbox."
- Drat! I wonder, what's on for tomorrow, though.
Dialing...
- Hey, Mark? Have you received the forecast for this week? I missed it.
- I did. Why?
- Oh, well, I figured, we had similar profiles, and I might...
- Sorry, bud, I don't think what I got here applies to you... hehe. Good luck!
* Click *
- Allright, Creepy. Show me the data.
- The Personal Future Manager is loading. Please, hold on.
- Yada-yada...
- Now displaying, information for the next month. I'm sorry, I was not able to find any information.
- Okay, what about month after?
- I'm sorry, I was not able to find...
- Alright, shutdown.
- The Personal Future Manager is shutting down. Remember to keep your system up to date and check for upgrades frequently. Thank you for using Futronix futureware!
- Hm, that leaves no choice but GRD again...
- Hello, you have reached the Global Registry of Destinies. If you are calling regarding your own destiny, press "alpha", if you...
* Beep *
- Thank you. Please hold on, while your call is redirected... Welcome to Personal Destiny Information Center hotline. Please enter your existential profile number, followed by the pound sign.
* Beep-beep-beep... *
- Please utter your passphrase.
- Sweet. What should I call you, my darling?
- Thank you. Please hold on while I verify your information... Mr. Brent Skinner, your appointment number is 14-54-82-323. Please claim your information at the nearest information center no later than: September, Sixteenth, Five, Twenty-Four, PM. Remember, the charge for this transaction is - Thirty Three - dollars and - Sixty - cents. To repeat this information, please press "rho". To continue...
* Click *
- Why is it they always give me just barely enough time to get through the traffic?... Oh, right, destiny...
Brent pulled on his windbreaker and went downstairs. The chilly wind hit him in the face with a wave of freshness. The usual thick clouds over the sky have already begun to darken.
. . .
- Welcome to the PDIC reception terminal. Please, enter your appointment number and put your right index finger on the fingerprint scanner.
* Blip-blip, blip... *
- Thank you, Mr. Skinner. The transportation service will take you to the appropriate location.
Immediately, a shiny black miniature vehicle with a comfortable seat approached Brent from behind in such a manner, that all he had to do is to sit down.
He rode through long, dark corridors, with red light markings on ceilings, walls, floors - those were countless other people's destinies, but they made no sense to Brent: each was written in its own unique language that only the owner could understand. All the security features seemed to be no more than a security theater - or, perhaps, they were used in some other manner by the Department of the Future. Brent knew a couple officers from the Department; they were rather shady characters, and he didn't know much about them, except that both were single and lived in a government-issued apartment.
His thoughts were interrupted by the transporter he was riding: it began slowing down, and soon stopped at the beginning of a corridor, which was no different than the others, except that the red markings on the walls and the ceiling were legible.
- Let's see... - Brent pulled out a notepad, - one-six-three... Here we go. Mm-hmm. Well, thought so... A-ha. Not bad! Congrats in advance, Sean!... What else... Oh, no... anyway.
He spent about ten more minutes studying obscure diagrams and mumbling unintelligible nonsense. The transporter beeped. It was time to go back.
. . .