Since then a lot had happened to Magnus and the world. The water levels had risen as predicted. He now lived on the fifth floor. The crafty developer had located all the mechanicals on the roof, so a new lobby door was retrofitted at the new sea level with a dock. It wasn’t a big deal. Everyone made adjustments to live in Manhattan.
“Your breakfast has been delivered,” said Lucille, his PA. She sounded miffed.
He watched the halo-ad, checked yes and opened the bin.
Watercraft or drones delivered everything. Meals came from chain restaurants, since the pandemics made person-to-person contact iffy. Three meals a day, six days a week, two on Sunday were placed in the insulated bin installed in his front door on a set schedule. Non-perishable items were delivered to the other bin, but Magnus was a minimalist so he hardy ever ordered anything.
The temperatures in New York had gradually risen to an average daytime temperature of 130° Fahrenheit year round, so everyone over fifty-five or with small children had been relocated to Alaska. He heard from his parents that some things still grew up there and they could sit outside in the evening and watch the sunset. He missed them, but it made sense to have all the seniors and parents with kids living in one location where the air was cleaner and cooler, much more efficient. They Skyped every Wednesday night. He’d be joining them in three years, if there were still enough space for his age group. He didn’t like to think too far ahead.
Chelsea-cat rubbed against Magnus’ shins. It was relaxation hour and she was looking for attention. He loved petting her soft fur, smooth as a seal. She cuddled against his chest her whiskers tickling his chin, so he had one hand free to surf. He never tired of stroking her, but she’d slink away after an hour and curl up on her bed to recharge. She was the ideal pet.
“Magnus, it’s time for your news feed.” Lucille never gave him any slack. He’d look into reprogramming her next week.
The last twenty-four hours had been so jammed with activity and emotion that he was drained. He needed to calm himself down. He liked predictability. He liked order. His mom used to tell everyone Magnus was, in the best sense, a dog. Like a dog, he found comfort in doing the same thing at the same time everyday. When all employment was changed to five hours a week so all working age adults could share jobs and keep everyone employed, Magnus was on board. He’d been a serious gamer since birth, so the mandatory two-hour game play twice a day was perfect for him. Truth be told, he’d have preferred three-hour sessions, but he’d learned to adjust. Every few months, the federal government, who controlled social media,