Diverted: A Bostonian dystopia

It was dawn. It was time for the Waiting.

Three hundred thousand were Waiting. Some waited for Buses, some waited for Trains that would become Buses. Some tried different routes, and some gave up hope and called Ubers. But many remained.

Most remembered the days before The Big One. The days when roads had lanes in two directions. The days when, with a glance at a watch and perhaps a touch of an app, they could predict when their journeys would end. But remembering didn't help. Remembering didn't raise the wind chill, or lower the mountains so you could see what was coming, or add room to the Snow Farms. Remembering did nothing to end The Waiting. The Powers talked about solutions, but they were no match for the most powerful entity, a being that wasn't even human: President Snow.

But if you Waited long enough, the Arrival would come, almost surely. And if it did, you stood a chance. You might be left on the curb, one of the Unfit--it was all in the luck of where you lived along the route--but you might move on to the next phase: the Squeezing. Recorded voices gave reminders: "Please move toward the back to make room for others." Sometimes, you were the Chosen One: you could move a few inches and give another person room. (Sometimes, you didn't even know it, because you had headphones on.)

You might turn on the others being Squeezed, or you might band together to try to guess where you were if the windows were clouded. Whatever the details of the voyage, you would arrive. But the story wouldn't end, for the end of the day would provide a sequel: The Return.





*Disclaimer 1: My own experience has been inconvenient but nowhere near dystopian.
**Disclaimer 2: This is totally derivative of/an homage to The Toast.