The year is 2080. The world is fresh and modern, and the new generations are smart from the day they open their eyes. Much has been accomplished and invented in the last 30 years, like hovercrafts, holograms, implanting SmartChips at birth… the list goes on. Me? I’m a just an 85 year old woman that has let the earth pass by with eyes that watch the youth change the world piece by piece. I was alive in the days of the paper and pencil. The days of not knowing what lay outside of our universe and when the race of the humans did not include animal DNA. Those days are over, as the time of the future is no longer then, it’s now.


Recapping my life, I remember the adventurous and nerve-wracking parts of high school at West Potomac and college at American University. Picking out what I truly wanted to do with the life I had in front of me was a hard decision, and the one that would truly map out my course. I chose psychology to be my major and lifestyle, to learn about the functions of one’s brain and why people make the choices they make everyday. It benefited me greatly and earned me the great career I spent almost 35 years in. Because of the boost in technology for babies, the government had an increased need for people in my field of work.


I was lucky enough to become pat of a group that worked on the SmartChip; a chip implanted at birth that includes all information learned at schools. Our greatest accomplishment was the SmartChip itself, and the idea that has been modified to smaller and smaller chips. And for that, our team was globally acknowledged. But that was many years ago, and now I am a widowed old woman. All of my friends and family have passed, along with my youth.


I look around me and see little kids as smart as I was in college, but only five years old. I see teenagers with the latest holograms riding on their hovercraft scooters, fresh from the factories. I smell the scent of flowers, made by a fan to make my nursing home more comforting. I hear the music of this century, blasted by young girls driving by.


I feel the holographic grass below me that is actually concrete ground. I think to myself what life was life as a little girl, but its too hard to remember. I do remember things were much different than they are now, and we learned about things that no one has ever heard of anymore. I suppose one day this Alzheimer’s will erase all of my past and I will die a peaceful death. But in the mean time, I’ll continue to enjoy the holographic scenery as I write down my life story with scribbled handwriting, thinking about nothing in particular. Nothing at all, just a blank mind.