The Tumbler
Tote bag in tow, she made her way through the street.
A loose association of buildings, all varying in height, their metallic panels sprayed with hydrophobic paint in an attempt to eliminate decay, stares down at her. The glowing clouds duck behind their rooftops. The stores were open, their neon lights drowned out by the rays from the sky.
Tiny blue-white-black drones carried its insignias of the police department and its intentionally-blurry video camera as they fly overhead while making the tiniest of whirs.
Her metal soles briefly paused on the street tiling. She pulled out a small wrapper, and chucked it into a steel can protruding from the ground next to her.
The craft hovered above her to ascertain if she had littered. She began walking again, and the drone continues its patrol and moves away from her.
Angel Vernon turned her wrist. White graphics shone through the translucent plastic plastered on top of it.
1:12 pm. June 13, 2096. Eighty-two degrees, cloudy.
Her finger attacked the numbers. The lines and curves sink with the purple linen that form her sleeves.
Remember the tumbler Max wanted? Store’s right up ahead.
An arrow points to where she will need to go.
The glass doors slid open to a packed wooden house. The oversized electric candlelights hung from the ceiling were paired with frosted glass tables as a motif to the deco from the start of the century.
On the tabletop sat a disorganized sort of items— A simple digital alarm clock whose display had chipped and fractured. A 12 fluid ounce bottle of coke manufactured in 2012. An assortment of discontinued and worn rulers and pencils whose materials have been banned since three decades ago. A small aluminum slab with a dark rectangle adhering to one side back when phones took solid, physical forms.
The owner noticed her and gets off his stool. Wrapped around his neck is a small pendant.
“What can I get ya, lady? I hope you aren’t one of those kids who coming in to ask for pre-European War American flags. We ran out a while ago.”
“That’s not what I’m looking for.” Her teeth-bearing grin and small nervous giggle seemed to have relaxed the storeowner’s face somewhat. “Do you have a tumbler?”
“A tumbler.” His grainy voice made him almost seem like he was asking a question. “Hold on.”
Couple taps on the Film.
“Yeah, we have one.” He pulled open a sliding board, and brought the small blue-black pill to the table. It flopped around as it tried to balance itself on the black edge. The smile printed on its head stares at her as it bobs.
“Heh heh. People like the flop.”
She gave it a look, yet she wouldn’t touch it. The scratches on the tumbler revealed the white plastic beneath the color coating. It threw her off slightly.
“Do you have another?” She cheesed coyly.
“Sorry, lady.” He stopped momentarily to point at the figure. “Last one we got for sale.”
“I’ll take it.” She extended her wrist to the counter, and it lit up in green.
“$25.” He gave the tumbler a push in her direction, as if it’s meant to be a send-off.
Both her and the owner watched as the display flashed as she initiated the transaction.
Transaction for Tumbler at Coleman Antique
$25.00
A green line crawled across the bottom of the text. An encircled checkmark replaced it when the line reaches the other end.
“Enjoy your tumbler.” The owner gave her a little nod as he retreated back to the stool away from the counter.
She picked it up gently, felt around for the hidden pocket in her tote, and tossed it in.
The hyperloop zipped through the clear tunnels before the city skyline. The elevated track allowed her to see the outside world. Buildings arched hundreds of feet into the sky as their reflective exteriors made them seem brighter than they really are. The tallest of the architecture were flanked by rows of smaller buildings. A few Airlift Taxis can be seen descending onto the marked landing spots.
The downtown area of Irvine has become an everyday occurrence, yet to her it remained a marvel.
Her sack faltered onto the seat as the train sped into the suburbs. She otherwise wouldn’t have been able to hear the wind whoosh against the windows for the cabin not be empty. It’s not a peak hour after all.
The glimmering sea had only been visible for a split-second before the white terminal blocked her view off. A ringtone sounded in her ear as the outer pill-shaped casing of the headset in her ear flashed green.