The end of the year

Having just finished the year-ender issue of the newspaper I work for, I have to admit this year hasn’t been too bad. For one, I think I have finally got used to the 21st century.

Call me slow, but the nineties lasted a little longer for me than for the calendar. There is a certain amount of depression associated with living in two centuries.

Will my kids - if I ever have any - laugh when I tell them I was born in the 20th century. Will they even be able to understand a date like 19xx. To them it might seem quaint, even laughable, that anyone could have been born in the previous century.

If I live long enough, that is longer than most of my peers, will it mean interviews with newspapers? I can already see the headline: Blast from the past, meet a man who born in the 20th century. Of course, I am assuming that newspapers will still be around … and that headlines will still be similar to the kind we give nowadays.

Now that the 21st century is well and truly upon me, and there is no going back no matter how much I might want it, I have to do what I always promised I would do: dig up a couple of old science fiction novels about life in the 21st century. Flying cars, instant food - you know the jazz. What’s scary is that instant food follows from fast food logically. Could flying cars really be all that impossible.

Originally published on ] t h i n k [ (tootb.blogspot.com); recovered from the Wayback Machine.