It was like watching a public presentation for the newest cellphone. The man walked out onto the stage, smiling, enthusiastic, and ready to show the world the latest gadget that the world ‘must-have.’

At first many didn’t see it, the thing was so small as it flew with a sharp humming noise out to arms-length from the presenter. He then offered it his hand and an autonomous airborne vehicle (AAV) lightly touched down in his palm.

“This is the latest in Artificial Intelligence,” he said. “It can processes its surroundings faster than I can close my hand around it.”

He quickly snapped his hand closed, but the drone escaped before his fingers touched it. Then the AAV zipped back and forth, scanning the crowd in the auditorium, face patterns being recognized and displayed on the large screens behind the presenter.

The crowd was delighted, oohing and awing, clapping at each new thing the AAV accomplished. Then the tone of the room changed when the fast-moving thing spotted another face, this one on the stage opposite from the presenter.

With exacting accuracy, the AAV swooped into position, touching lightly against the forehead of the face. The face belonged to a mannequin and before anyone in the audience realized it, the AAV discharged with a small puff of smoke.

The shattered bits fell all about the stage, while the mannequin remained standing a small hole in the forehead where the AAV had made contact. The crowd cheered and clapped wildly.

“Yes,” the presenter said, “Bad actors of the world are soon to be a thing of the past.’

He stepped aside and the screen behind him lit up with a mountainous desert scene that drew closer and closer until the ground was but feet from the AAV. Suddenly, a man’s face appeared and a fast as that, it disappeared.

Other men standing near him began to run from the area, however, like the man prior, their faces disappeared from the processor’s view. Pop after pop was heard until the screen went dark.

This was quickly followed by an overhead view of the landscape. Seven bodies lay in the sand, blood pooling about their lifeless heads.

“Seven criminals, gone,” the presenter stated, as the crowd cheered, “Using one of these AAV’s and a shape-charge of less than an ounce.”

Five days later, an attack left 262 Congressional members and the President dead.

Early today I had to use my initials, TJD, on a piece of paper.

The person at the counter looked at them, then at me, before asking, “Is this some sort of an effing joke, ‘cuz if it is it isn’t funny!”

Looking at her, I asked, “Is what a joke? “

“These so-called ‘initials?’” she exclaimed.

“So-called?” I returned.

“These are Donald Trump’s initials in reverse,” she stated.

“No, they aren’t,” I shot back, “They’re mine and in the correct order, too. Now get me your manager!”

“Why so you can whine about how I caught your little scam?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

After explaining what happened to the manager, I watched as she fired her on the spot. I left the store with the knowledge that it’s going to be a very long four years.

My Cousin Elmo says, “I wanted to be a Gregorian monk, but I never got the chants.”

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary when Ricky got out of bed. He showered, dressed, had a piece of toast and cup of coffee before heading to work.

It was while walking from the parking lot to the employee entrance that he sensed something about himself had changed. He quickly looked at his hands and arms, which were fine.

It was the lack of feet and his quickly fading legs that brought him panic. He could actually see his thighs disappearing and his hips begin to fade.

By the time he reached the door handle, only his fingertips remained.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Praise is simply raising ‘pee’ to a whole new level.”

The Confederate Captain stood at the base of the steps, enjoying his smoke, the winter-afternoon feeling more like a springtime morning. He was waiting.

He paced back and forth, small quick steps, as his bride came out onto the veranda. Stately and perfect in every aspect, he offered his hand to help her down the steps, looking more out of 1861 than 2021.

Once again, side-by-side, they stood patiently as a woman, a tourist, paused with her manual Canon camera for that better puff of smoke to come from his Swisher Sweet cigar. ‘Click’ sounded the antique camera and the woman smiled, content that she’d captured the perfect frame.

“I didn’t think she’d ever take the picture,” he complained.

His wife smiled, “Why?”

“I gotta go pee, in the worst way,” he answered.

“All the way in the back, last door on the left,” she said, as he hurried up the steps.

During the first two pandemics only clothe and paper masks were employed against the virus. But after the third, the central government issued a state-of-the-art mask that covered one’s entire head in a bubble.

It came with a built-in re-breather, an adapter to watch Internet-streams, interact on social media, text and it was lightweight and wouldn’t fog up.

“Kinda reminds me of the helmet Mr. Freeze, from the old Batman cartoon series, used to wear,” my six-year-old brother said one afternoon.

He spent five-weeks in ‘Reeducation’ for the disparaging remark and I was glad that I hadn’t laughed.

She was a bitter old woman, but Jimmy did his best to be nice to Granny Turner because she was one of the last of her kind on the block.

“Let them eat cake,” she’d say to anything she found disagreeable.

Jimmy didn’t understand what she meant, he simply knew she was upset again and it was always again. Then he witnessed her in the back ally of the complex feeding a Monster a large German Chocolate cake, an act that was forbidden.

Two days later, Granny Turner was forced to keep her appointment, like the perfect citizen she wasn’t.

We were separated by at least 10 feet as I try never to get in the way of the operator. I was at the backside of the fighting hole.

His selected rate of fire was ‘three-at-a-time.’ His part of the mission was to force the enemy to take cover.

This grunt suddenly stopped firing, rose up, and turned sharply as if to run. The look on his face said, “Too fucking late!”

He was there — until he wasn’t there. I woke up with one hell of a headache and nothing more than a concussion, his body having absorbed the blast.

“Mr. Rutledge,” the concierge called, “I have a package for you.”

“Thank you,” Rutledge said, quickly opening the box, “Dropped my device in the toilet last night and had to get them to send me another one.”

“I see,” the man behind the desk said as he lifted his left arm to check the time.

“Wow!” Rutledge said, “Haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

The concierge replied, “Was my fathers. They don’t make them anymore.”

In the elevator, Rutledge smiled, suddenly aware that he missed having a real conversation. He then looked at the device in his hand.