One Million Project Magazine

Janie looked over at the media screen. She
recalled the soaps she used to watch, the dramas
and sitcoms. She missed them all. Her
electricity had been cut off over three months
ago. Sometimes she replayed her favourite
media programmes in her head.
Janie’s attention returned to the mockmantelpiece,
and a distant memory of a similar
one filled with Christmas cards flashed before
her eyes. Unable to help herself, she lifted the
letter down and re-read it. Tomorrow, the 14th
December 2036 she would receive her last
phased payment of unemployment benefit.
The government no longer had the funds to
pay benefits of any kind. Arrangements had
been put in place to drop off a food parcel to
her twice a week. She could remain in her flat,
but no services or repairs would be provided.
Janie’s low mood deepened. She had been
blighted by depression for years; unable to
work she had found ways to exist on her own.
Though she had had lots of virtual people she
chatted to on her social network box, she had
no real-time friends who could help her now.
With no electricity, she had been unable to log
in. She missed her friends from the therapy
group, the members of the exercise class, her
chat site ‘buddies’. At the flick of a switch they
had been removed from her life. The pain she
felt had been no less acute than if they had all
suddenly died. She had grieved for each and
every one of them.
These people had seemed real to her then; they
had been the centre of her life. She had been
delighted by each of the virtual birthday and
Christmas cards they had sent her. In her mind,
she had visualised their hands passing their
cards to her in friendship. With no real-time
social outlets, they had made life liveable. Apart
from food shopping, she rarely ventured outside.
Truth hit her like a punch in the chest; she
was isolated and lonely, and had been since
she moved here. People surrounded her in the
numerous flats throughout the complex, but
she had never spoken to one of them. Like her,
they were unemployed and rarely ventured out,
and when they did they kept their heads
bowed low.
Sighing, Janie pulled on a warm coat and made
her way outside. It was late and starting to get
dark. She needed to think, plan what to do.
While she walked around the multi- story
building, she picked up an armful of twigs. Returning
to the front entrance, she sat down and
scrunched the letter in her hands. Using a twig,
she dug a small hole and placed the letter into
the stony ground. She flicked her lighter and lit
the paper. Then, she settled twigs on top.
Copyright © 2016 by OMP Magazine Publishing