Some Time
In The
Future

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" Yes, thought Dan. The changes in Britain had been very great over these last few years – changes that would have seemed inconceivable, even a few short decades ago.

Perhaps the greatest change was that smart software had led to the loss of so many jobs. But this had not led to mass hopelessness or disillusion. Instead Britain had settled down to its leisure revolution and embraced it. These changes had been managed skilfully and gradually by Avocado, in conjunction with the Government. As a result, in many ways things were better than before. The trains ran on time. Amazon parcels arrived within the hour. There was time for cycle rides, walks in the countryside and a thousand other leisure pursuits. Jobs that weren't really jobs, like the one Dan had, had been invented in order to give the semblance of work to those who still craved it (allocated by Avocado of course).

Other jobs had been protected by the government, so that robots couldn't do them, like in the retail sector, where real humans served you, or in the services sector, like hotels or hospitals.

Indeed, one of the most striking features of Britain at some time in the future was how similar it looked to the Britain of the recent past. Humanoid house robots were not allowed out on the streets for example, and the trains looked exactly the same as they had always done (except they were now on time).

But many other things looked the same too. Most of London still looked the same as it always had: a mass of Victorian brick-built houses with slate roofs and back gardens, interspersed with the more modern blocks Avocado's 'SmartBuild' app was constructing for the steadily expanding population.

And the churches were still open. The football commentary still came out of your Smartphone on grey days in late November, the way it had once come out of your radio. The royal family still appeared on the balcony of Buckingham Palace after royal weddings; and King George still rode in a golden carriage along the Mall, pulled by magnificent horses, to the state opening of Parliament.

All in all, Britain had come to terms with the new technology. The population had learned to live with the idea that jobs were now very few and far between. And besides, Britain felt far more equal than it had done for a long time. While it was true there were a tiny number of super-wealthy people driving Ferraris, who lived lives of unimaginable luxury, for most people life on the government's guaranteed minimum income was far more mundane.

But at least it was an equal mundanity. Lawyers, engineers, people who had spent their whole lives in elevated superiority now found themselves being forced to get by. But this common experience of being cut down by being laid off, and having to sign your house over to the state in order to carry on living in it, had created a tremendous sense of community. 'I used to be a...' was how a lot of new friendships started at carpentry or embroidery classes; and people's natural ingenuity helped them to supplant their meagre government payments in a thousand different ways.

Even those like Dan, who had suffered bitter loss, and had walked through tunnels of darkness, had been helped by Avocado. Perhaps there were unexpected advantages in Avocado's immense servers listening to everything you did and said; for perhaps Dan's depressive and troubled behaviour had been picked up by a crawler buried deep within Avocado's software, which in turn had recommended him for his job at the British Museum.

And so it was, that as the buffers of Dan's train gently came to rest on the stationary buffers at the end of the track at Victoria Station, and as the passengers prepared to alight exactly on time, Dan reflected that perhaps he did indeed have reason to be grateful to Avocado; that this giant corporation had indeed saved his life, and given him something to do and people to talk to when all seemed lost.

And so on this sunny April day, Dan got ready to walk along the busy platform at Victoria station, with his feet at ten to two. He had the whole day in front of him, a whole day at his favourite place, the centre of his world: a giant collection of cultural and historical artefacts unrivalled anywhere else; for he was off to the British Museum. "