MB Reed
Author and mathematician
2034: fifty years on
It was noon on a damp dismal day in June 2034, and all the clocks were striking thirteen (in Great British Summer Time). Winifred Smith was taking the Northern Line from her home in South London to her work in Whitehall. The train car, like the whole Tube network these days, stank of rancid grease, cannabis and vomit. She kept her gaze fixed ahead of her, staring unfocused through the opposite window, trying like everyone else to avoid looking at anyone else. When the train stopped at Kennington her sight of the rushing tunnel wall was replaced by that of a giant animated poster, puce lettering flashing over a collage of blinking bloodshot eyes:
‘Staring of a sexual nature is Harassment and will not be tolerated. #WeAreEverywhere.’
At least, she thought, it made a change from the ‘Wherever you may be, Big Sister is watching over you,’ posters which were everywhere, now that Big Brother himself had been cancelled: arrested for upskirting.
An AI voice on the Tannoy kept up a stream of exhortations: ‘See it. Say it. Or face the consequences. #TheyAreEverywhere.’ ‘Did you know that the London Underground was built by the sweat and toil of the enslaved Global Majority? Are you an ally?” ‘Harmony not hate – you have been warned.’ The passengers were ignoring this litany, chomping on their Soylentburgers and Great British Fries then throwing the sodden wrappings under their seats. ‘You must vote on July 4th! Let’s Keep Oceania Great! Every vote counts, because in Oceania everyone is equal.’
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