Walk The Walk

The transport pod that Madge ‘Ubered’ arrived at her domicile unit at the stated time; 10:25, precisely. She entered the cabin and declared her destination ”Blue Bell Junction”. ”Yes, certainly Madge. Take your seat and fasten the safety belt”, echoed from the overhead speakers. The outside weather forecasters predicted “a grievously chilly day”; she was glad of her new Themo coat and boots. They did exactly as promised, regulating body temperature with the dial of a button. Madge being Madge often mixed up right and left, resulting in wide variations of hot and cold. Her grandson sorted out the problem, programming constant output.

The narrow pavements of the junction, which once had terrified her, no longer had the power to make her shake. Upon placing her right arm on the crossing beacon, permission to scan her data was granted. The pavement adjusted to her personal needs; a wider pathway appeared and crossing time extended; one minute and eleven seconds displayed on the beacon in a bright orange neon glow. The beeping sound of the countdown activated as Madge stepped out into the junction. Correctly following the specified path, for any deviation caused a high-pitched alarm to call out, ‘danger, danger!’.

Cathy Nolan, a comrade of forty years, was waiting near the shopping depot. Madge tried to attract her attention to no avail. Cathy distracted by a ruckus between a youngster and Civil Defence Pods, did not respond. The boy called out, “It was dead when I got here!” Madge sent her Obvo-Pod down into the crowd, and a vague recollection of this boy, flashed in her memory capsule. Recognising the voice, she instructed her personal interface patch to trawl her remembrance function.

As the friends reached the assigned meeting point, their security badges pulsating bright green indicated known connexion. Greeting each other, they linked arms and strolled towards the plaza. Drifting through the air, a tinny tinkle vibration of an old-fashioned accordion enveloped the square. At once, they both cried out, “Stan, Stan, the Music Man”, his image floating on the giant screens of the plaza. Madge often wondered how this always happened but did not fuss too much. She thought to herself, “Somebody in that great control box in the sky likes me.”

Cathy was overly excited when the new gravity chairs appeared from the sub-pavement. Delighted, she listed their super qualities: "eases spines, revitalizes muscles... You can even reload your Kindle!" Reminded of her own library cache, Madge placed her Kindle on the chair. With a bleep, a new selection of titles appeared. She sat with Cathy, agreeing that the gravity chairs were faultless. A joyful moment.

Madge’s exercise icon displayed the compulsory minutes she needed to achieve this week, ‘five more clicks to reach my target’. She made the decision to complete the NHS prescribed weekly objective of twenty-six minutes. A purple mist sanitised the air around her as her gravity chair morphed into fitness apparatus. Meanwhile, Cathy languidly surveyed the crowd; the mood in the plaza was buoyant and cheerful. Sighing with satisfaction, she relaxed into her chair, humming along to her favourite tune. Using her Virtual Purchase Purse, she ordered coffees and cakes at their favourite café. “Hurry-up! Get going! You need the credits. I’ve got us buttered tea cakes”, she exclaimed. Madge laughed at her friend and concluded her weekly regime. The plaza became busy as a crowd of working young rushed through on twelve breaks. The individuals crossing the plaza caused the display and audio to re-programme. A different environment was set up catering to the new crowd. The friends, alert to the change, left the plaza, turned right, and continued their promenade along the high street.

They followed their designated illuminated path, avoiding self-cleaning jets, random pop-up obstacles and wheelie e-chairs. The whoop of childish delight caused them to stop and observe. A troupe of pre-schoolers climbed and scaled colourful frames around the statue of “Harold, our glorious leader”. Approaching Joe’s market stall, they reflected on his merchandise. Items, once for sale in the not-so-distant history of the high street; red and white flags, fluttering, clacking like Tibetan prayers, noisy mechanical playthings forever turning in circles. Stationary for a moment, Cathy began reminiscing about the old market, long-gone shops, old companions, and her proverbial rant about the price of bread. Madge reminded her friend of the weekly treat waiting just for them. They hurried along.

Arriving at the café, ‘Halo Elton’ appeared at the same time as their coffee and cakes. ‘Enjoy, enjoy my dear friends!', his hologram erratic and disjointed.

An older man rushed past, speaking angrily to a young boy. He turned his irate face to the friends. Their badges pulsated green and his identity card ‘Thomas Doran’ displayed on her media screen. Madge called out his name and Tommy approached the table stating, “Just come to get Laddo here out of the cop shop”. He gave the boy a playful clip about the ears.

“Grandad, stop that! It’s not my fault. It was dead when I got there!” Tommy explained that the Plod-Bots had rescued the boy from an angry crowd, who’d accused him of breaking the credit token machine. “I needed the credits. Me and Mandy are going to the new Hypermedia near MacDs” the boy clarified.

The boy scuttled away as the oldies began that familiar phrase, “Back in the day…” There was no way he was staying to listen to the tales of olden days, of dirty streets and smelly air, and grandad’s hard mucky manual labour.

A notification of the transport app appeared on Madge's media screen and in a very efficient manner, stated: "Your assigned T-Pods have arrived at dock seven, transport hub L36"

Madge called out to Cathy, ‘Come on. Your pod’s here too. Time to walk the walk’.

The friends once again linked arms, as only good friends can do. They waved a quick goodbye to ‘Halo Elton’, and called out to Tommy, “See you soon”.

They followed their designated path, avoiding cleaning jets, float-boards, noisy children, and the general paraphernalia of the High Street. Their assigned day of ‘personal connection’ completed precisely at the stated time of 15:55.