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Microfiction

The year is 2028. A drone delivers fast food from an automated restaurant to the top of a corporate tower. A security robot carts it inside, next to dozens of similar packages, all unopened. The last man on Earth, CEO of Final Corp Inc., doesn't get up. He was too busy.


The year is 2028. Discarded smartphones litter the streets, crinkling and crackling as self-driving cars ride over them. Drones circle above, swooping down now and then to perch on a public charge pad. A solar-powered ad flickers, croaking something about Mars colonies.