“Two yellows and a red,” sighed the old man.
Albert longed for the days when food was real. When you could taste and touch and smell what you put in your mouth. Those were good days. Now everything came in a goddamn pill.
Too many people, too few resources. That was the excuse the important people used. He didn’t buy it though. Someone somewhere was making a ton of money.
“Excellent choice sir,” replied the waiter.
Albert eyed his order taker. Human or humanoid? Impossible to tell anymore.
Boy, this living forever business sure isn’t for the faint of heart.
The Weekday One Hundred 