A Quick Word From Our Sponsors:

Tokyo, Japan. 2018.

Live your best Pre-Life!

Once a day for a randomly assigned minute you get to see your future. This is what we guarantee, this is what we promise.

Sounds too good to be true right? Not with ChronoCorp’s new Pre-Life implant.

Pre-Life what now?

Once a day an alert from the future gets sent straight to your mind. Utilising new Time Loop technology we take a picture of whatever your future self can see in front of them and send it back in time for your viewing pleasure. We call them Pre-Pics.

You get a full minute to see what you’ll be seeing in one, five, a hundred years. The potential of Pre-Pics is endless.

Imagine, seeing your children that don’t exist yet, countries you haven’t visited yet, food you haven’t eaten yet. These are all experiences and sights you can experience and see right now.

Hold on, what is this implant?

The Sequential Memory Image Line Enhancer or S.M.I.L.E. is the latest and greatest piece of time technology ChronoCorp has yet to present on a commercial scale.

It is a small expandable antenna that we insert in the base of your skull through a painless, simple and free procedure. It is calibrated and unique to your DNA and only picks up information beamed to it from your identical implant in the future. Think of it as a television that only picks up channels that are about you.

Transparency and honesty are key to our ChronoCorp ethos. Be sure to read the terms and conditions of each product before determining their suitability.

Alright but surely that’s going to be expensive?

Not at all! Here at ChronoCorp we believe everyone should be able to see through time. We’ve made it so the implant and installation of the implant is free* with no extra costs in store.

*In-app purchases mandatory.

This sounds incredible! Where do I sign up?

Send us a vial of your preferred bodily fluid and a comprehensive list of your family and friends (including social security numbers) and we’ll contact you in the next three business days if you are an eligible candidate.

FAQ:

Why are all my Pre-Pics blurry?

If the implant is not calibrated properly you may receive blurry images from the future. Please read the troubleshooting section of our instruction manual or contact your closest service professional if this doesn’t resolve itself.

I started getting headaches behind my ear when I first installed my Pre-Life implant. Is this normal?

Yes this is perfectly normal. Most subjects will experience side effects based around their implants including but not limited to:

⁃ Headaches (mild)

⁃ Headaches (extreme)

⁃ Nosebleeds

⁃ Hair loss

⁃ Itchy and irritated skin

⁃ Hallucinations

⁃ A sense of isolation and inconsolable loss

⁃ Piles

What happened if I don’t receive an image?

This means one of either two things. In the future you have ceased to exist or in the future you have removed your implant. Customers should note that improper removal of implant will result in a fatal solution.

Do the implant come in different colours?

They certainly do! As well as your standard primary colours we are proud to announce our new metallic range as well as our collaboration with the Democratic Republic of Disney to bring you a whole new way to express yourself.

Live your best life with Pre-Life!

Hard Rubbish

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Adelaide, Australia. 2018.

Next to a broken set of drawers is a couch with the seat pillows missing and on top of the couch is a mattress and between the mattress and the couch is a dead body. I’m pretty sure it’s dead. The arm dangling down the side of the couch is bloodied and one of the feet are missing from the legs sticking out the other end. I squint and take another bite of my Crunchy Nut. Yep. It’s dead alright.

I think about calling the cops. I’ve never called the cops before. I Google to see if I can just book them online or something but they said in a case like this I should call. They need an app for these sort of things, like an Uber for the police. I decide one of the neighbours would probably call instead.

That night my alarm goes off reminding me to put the bins out. My roommates are away so I can’t ignore it. The dead body is still there but the mattress is gone which means now I can see his face. He’s lying face up, his head tilted to one side so he’s looking straight at me. The blood from his arm stops at his elbow and his mouth and eyes are open. Mosquitoes fly lazily between what’s left of his teeth.

The next morning I rush out the front, half asleep and already late for work. My car starts on the second try and I look over my shoulder to check for oncoming traffic. One of the ladies from down at the retirement village is out walking her dog and I watch her stroll by the dead body. She lets her dog leap up onto the guy’s lap and lick his crotch. I get a funny feeling in my stomach that I pretend doesn’t happen then take off with a squeal.

When I get home the couch is gone but the body is still there. He has been rolled off the couch so now he has his face in the dirt and arse in the air. I feel a sense of loss and sadness come over me. I liked that couch. I ignore the bins so I don’t have to take them back inside.

I get woken up in the middle of the night by my roommates who are home and without keys. I glare when I open the door but manage a bleary hello. Reluctantly I follow them to the kitchen and ask them about their trip. After they’re done I ask,
“Did you see the body?”
We all wander outside. The gravel of the driveway hurts my feet and they walk ahead of me. When I catch up I point across the street but the body is gone.
“That’s a set of drawers.”
I shrug, “Someone must have taken it.”
“Should we grab the drawers?”
“Nah they’re broken.”
A wind whips down the street and I shudder. We argue over who should take the bins inside.

Anything You Want, You Can Have.

I check the cable ties again and frown. He’s sweating and keeps moving about so much I’m worried he’ll get loose. I’ve always trusted rope more than these stupid bits of plastic but the company won’t fork out for anything these days. ‘Superfluous and unreliable’. Idiots. I use a second tie around both his wrists and ankles. How’s that for superfluous.
He woke up about twenty minutes ago and he hasn’t stopped screaming. I can tell because spit and blood keeps dripping out from underneath the duct tape across his mouth. I’m listening to an old ‘Pavement’ record and can’t hear anything he’s trying to say.
I double check the chair he’s strapped to, kneeling down and running my fingers over the bolts connecting it to the floor. No bends or movement. Good. He’s thrashing pretty badly but the second lot of cable ties are doing the trick despite my misgivings. His head is flopping around something chronic so I loop a final length of plastic around his neck and pull it tight against the back of the chair. His chest is heaving but he’s not moving any more.
I pull a checklist up on my phone and make sure I haven’t missed anything. In my head I tick things off. Towels in the corner are fresh. Three separate drains are clear. I walk around the small five by five metre space we are in and run my fingers along the padded foam walls. No cracks. No gaps. Perfect.
I take a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and place one unlit in my mouth. I stand in front of the chair and for a moment, take him in. His eyes are wild and red-stained and snot is hanging out both nostrils. He hasn’t stopped crying since he woke up. Pathetic. I’ve left him in only his underwear and he’s shiny with sweat.
I think about letting him have a cigarette and think of the irony of giving him a final gift. Instead I step forward and punch him across the jaw. What a piece of shit.
I open the roller door and step outside. It shuts again behind me.
I light the cigarette in my mouth and take a long drag before closing my eyes, letting my body lean against the wall of the storage container. It’s cool out here. It’s hitting the low twenties now that the sun is down and the wind against my face is a dream.
The screaming behind me is dull which means the soundproofing is working. I make another tick.
It’s a beautiful night.
Headlights enter the storage yard and I watch them cut in and out of gaps in containers before turning down the lane where I’m standing. I wave them in and put out my cigarette as the van pulls up in front of me. I can see pink cursive lettering written across the side but can’t make out what it says in the dark.
I replace the cigarette with gum as a woman in a red jumpsuit steps out of the driver’s side. We nod to each other and I open the side of the van. Already out of her seat, Clara steps towards me. She puts a hand on each of my shoulders and I grab her waist, helping her down onto the bitumen.
Tall for her age, but thinner than she should be, Clara takes a moment to breathe in before looking to me. Her head has been shaved since I last saw her and there’s a clear tube running from her nose and across her cheeks, underlining her eyes. Sunken into her skull they are two pits of fire, a contradiction to the fragile frame around them.
I smile at her when I see she’s wearing the yellow dress that she got for her thirteenth birthday. Clara doesn’t smile back.
“You’ve been smoking.” Her voice is faint and she’s breathing rapidly.
“Sorry.”
“Is he here?”
My heart thumps uncharacteristically and I nod before stepping aside. Clara walks towards the storage container and stops. Her thin fingers are fists and they’re shaking.
Gently I take one of her fists in my hand. It melts and loosens in my grip. I pull out a hammer from my back pocket and place it in her now open hand. There’s hesitation before the fist closes shut again.
I hold my hand under hers for a moment.
“Are you ready?”
I can see trepidation run across her face, closely followed by steely determination. She adjusts her grip around the hammer and nods. I nod back and let her go.
I hit a button besides the door and watch light grow up from the bottom of the roller door. It travels up Clara’s legs, chest and finally her face. There’s a moment of quiet. A muffled recognition. And then screaming that fades as I drop the shutter back down with Clara on the other side.
I sit on the ground, back against the corrugated steel of the container and the woman in red sits down beside me. I light another cigarette and pass it to her. The orange glow as she inhales lights the embroidered pink logo on her breast.
‘The Make-A-Wish Foundation: Dreams come true.’