THURSDAY WORDS

I would have said yes if she'd asked. I would have. Plain. Simple. Effective. A triumvirate of letters, coalescing to form a body of much greater significance. The meaning between doing and not doing. The meaning between war and not war. The meaning between God and not God. I would've said yes. I reply to her text. It's only been a matter of weeks since UniCom (meaning Universe Communication) was formed and already it's being used to it's potential. Intergalactic telecommunication. Speech, visual, textual amongst numerous other variations of telecommunication. Oddly enough, she is on venus and I, the male, am on mars; an expression that has survived the ages.

"idbflkjbadfljbdafkjlbdafda"

This isn't some form of Futuristic code or language, I merely want to rouse the anger inside her, just for a little while. Send. Goodbye text. Off you go. Interplanetary. When you return, bring me something angry. Angry angry angry.
I'm suddenly left wondering why I chose to come to Mars today. It's violently raining (they installed an Earth-like atmosphere here after conquering it in 2385 as to allow for humans to live here, thus decreasing the ever growing density of humans on Earth which would have soon proven fatal) and the shops are a bit shit, really. It's a half-arsed Earth. If even. Quarter-arsed at most I reckon actually. I'd never utter it allowed though. The silly bastards that took over Earth (yes, the majority of mankind) thought it'd be fun to keep a slightly dark and evil side about it and thus appointed a "dictatorship", a concept that didn't seem odd at all to them. I head toward the shuttle center to get back to Earth. The shuttle are driven by large Giraffe-like creatures.Or so they want you to think. It's actually just men in large costumes. But only men. Thanks to the regeneration of sexism, only men are allowed to drive these space shuttles. And planes. And trains. And tanks. And cars. Basically, women are allowed to drive horses and bikes, and even then, they've not made a bike in decades and horses are damn near extinction thanks to the discovery that, in fact, they're a culinary delight. I wait four minutes for the shuttle to arrive and embark.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Fuck off" says the tiny little screen.

I reply asking if she wants anything brought home from Mars, knowing fine well I won't be there when she replies.

The shuttle is a cosmopolis and we're all cosmopolitans. Yet no one utters a word on the fifty-six minute journey back.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Martian squid please!" says the tiny little screen.

Mars squid is a food that Mars is famed for. Oddly enough, Mars doesn't have squid. Pluto does. Mars simply imports it from Pluto and, inexplicably, the air in Mars (despite the Earth-like atmosphere, the air still has a unique martian quality about it) affects the icy-water based beast and turns it into some sort of incredible dish.

"Sorry. I've already left Mars, I'm afraid"

Send.

We land on Earth and I elate. Mars smelt way better. And was easier to breathe on. And less populated. Earth has become an over-sized twenty-first century London. And don't even think about what London has become. There's no point. "No one" knows and those that do know can't tell of it's interior. It's now a large dome used exclusively for business. We are not told what sort of business', despite the obvious Cola, McDonalds and KFBK; KFC having merged with Burger King to make fried burgers. None of us care really though, it's not like business is really our forte.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

"Okay! I'll just bring back some Venusian hamster then!" says the tiny little screen.

Ostensibly, Venusian hamster is not, in fact, hamster, but rather rat. Yes. Humans eat rats now too. I reply informing her that I've turned vegetarian, a decision I've just taken upon myself instantaneously having received the text. Send.

I step off. New York at midnight. Our sleep cycles have shifted. No one starts works until midday now and most people are finished work by six o'clock. This is made possible by the Great Money Printing Error of 2649 whereby all the printers in the world went insane and perpetually printed off all this money. Homelessness is no longer an issue and every one in three people are millionaires. Debt, bankruptcy and poverty are no longer issues.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I think she's just forwarded me the text she'd previously sent.

"Fuck off" says the tiny little screen.

I don't bother replying. There's no point. We live our lives in cycles. You know the phrase "The best ones are either gay or taken", or something to that affect? Well, towards recent decades, it became true. More so the gay part. The accelerated rise in homosexuality amongst men, however, didn't become such a problem for breeding as expect. As woman couldn't get hold of any handsome, intelligent or caring hetrosexual males, they began to lower their standards and sort of fell into the way of life that their new less handsome, intelligent and caring partners lived. Couples were having sex a lot more often with a lot less (ie no) protection. What we soon found was that dumber babies were being born. These babies would go on to have less intelligent babies and the ball kept rolling until we found ourselves in this hell on Earth scenario. Lower IQs. Inferior intelligence. Less attractive appearances. These are the people that reintroduced sexism to society. These are the people that forced London to become a private business center. These are the people that are lowering the tone of Earth. This is exactly why I've decided to take it upon myself to try save Earth, no matter who gets hurt or the extent of the actions I must take. I'm gay. But if she asked, I would have said yes. I would have.