Looking Forward Ch. 01

"Easy there, Mr. Ganz. Don't try to get up quite so fast. You've been out of it for quite a while now. Tell me, how many fingers do you see?" I heard a voice in my rather groggy state, as I began to stand up in my hospital bed.

"What did you call me?" I asked, clearing my head and looking around the room, my eyes adjusting to the light again after such a long period of darkness.

"You're ... Bruno Ganz, right? I'm Doctor Varro Phelps. This is your nurse, April Estrada. You've had other nurses, too, of course, but most of them haven't been as focused on you as she has. She removed your catheter, which is why the pain and discomfort should fade in time. Try not to get too excited just yet. It could get very sore down there. Try not to sit up quite so fast, either. Your muscles have atrophied a bit and your limbs still need to stretch. You could feel some cramps," the physician explained to me, the scrubs making it clear that he was indeed an MD.

"Well ... that's not my real name, but it's an honor to be linked to him, however that might have happened. Great actor, you know. Few people played Hitler as well as him. Evil tyrants are a tough role to portray. My real name is Nick ... Radescu. Short for Nicolae, of course. Proper Romanian name, you know," I chuckled despite the soreness of my body from however long I was out of commission.

"Well, nice to meet you ... Nicolae. Sorry about the confusion. You talked in your comatose state and the only name that came out was 'Bruno Ganz,' so we assumed that this was you. So, he was an actor, from your time, back in the early 21st century? Talk about a living time capsule, that you really are!" the nurse spoke up at last, charming me with her curiosity and talkative ways.

"Yes ... he was that. Wait, what do you mean, 'my time,' and 'back in the early 21st century?' It's still 2019, right? Is this some kind of weird prank that you pull on newly awakened coma patients? What, do you really think that I'm gonna fall for that 'Rip Van Winkle' crap? Give me a break! You're pretty, both of you, but you can't be too smart if you're trying that stunt on me," I groaned, not impressed with their idea of a "wake-up" gag.

"Um ... sir, this is no joke. You've been comatose for a century. More than that, in fact. This is the year 2156. We've had to continually work your muscles and supply you with protein and other nutrients and supplements, as well as more advanced medical science and technology, in order to prevent radical muscular atrophy, but there are limits to our power. You'll need a steady diet and regimen of physical fitness at your age. I'm guessing that you're drawing closer to two centuries old. In what year were you born, sir? We lack sufficient data on you, as your DNA profile seems to be without a clear match in our records. The same with your fingerprints for some odd reason," Dr. Phelps resumed his briefing, much to my shock.

"In this modern era, you don't have enough data on me? What the hell happened? Yet you have enough modern medical tech to keep me alive for nearly two centuries, when everyone that I know and love is dead? Priorities, I guess. You kept a stranger alive for this long? Without medical insurance? How the hell did that happen? That's expensive as fuck! I dread my hospital bill for this, I can tell you that. I doubt that I still have a job now, after all," I reacted with shock.

"What's 'medical insurance,' sir?" Dr. Phelps asked me, being genuinely confused now.

"You know, the service that you buy, you pay premiums every month, and they cover the expense of hospital stays, doctor visits, etc. There are high deductibles and co-pays, but it's better than being uninsured and not getting treatment or a regular physical when you need one. They try to encourage preventive care, or so they say, but they sometimes charge more for specialists and such, and it does make prevention harder than it needs to be. At least the government now forces them to cover you in spite of pre-existing conditions, the last time I checked, anyway," I recalled the gist of how health insurance worked, and it absolutely confused both of them.

"I don't know what you mean at all. This is a bizarre concept, to even consider the cost of a procedure or a visit when being treated for medical issues. That's not how medicine is done at all these days. You go in, you get treated as you need to be, you get prescribed whatever you need, you go to the pharmacist, you pick up your medicines, or else you have them deliver said pharmaceuticals, you take them as prescribed, and your condition is treated or even cured. No one thinks of cost, sir," April explained to me now, completely flooring me with this news.

"So ... who pays for all of this? The government? For that matter, what government? Is there a government? Someone must pay for all of this ... it can't be cheap. Who pays your salary, after all?" I began racking my brain as I adapted to this brave new world around me ... finally noticing that April filled out her scrubs very nicely.

"Like what you see? Maybe when you're recovered, we can do something about that, eh?" April winked at me, even as she let Dr. Phelps put his arm around her waist.

"Wow, things really were a lot different back in your day, weren't they?" Dr. Phelps reacted, "by the way, when you're released, don't be so formal. She's April. I'm Varro. We call each other that all the time, as good friends do. She's downright friendly, to say the least."

"Thank you, babe. You're not so bad yourself. Thanks for last night, too. You were terrific, vato!" April told the doctor, caressing his groin with no sign or hint of embarrassment.

"Woah ... that kind of stuff, that doesn't cause HR headaches, you don't worry about lawsuits, complaints, etc.?" I shook my head, genuinely thrown by the frisky behavior that would have made a personnel officer dizzy back in my day.

"Boy, do you have some culture shock to absorb, honey. You'll see, soon enough. Why would it cause problems? And what's HR?" April laughed, even as she ran her tongue along my face.

"Am I clean enough for that?" I worried now.

"Sure you are. I sponge you down every day and have for years now. Glad to finally get to talk to the mystery man, even if you're disoriented and a bit dazed and thrown by everything. So, when you're up and at it, remind me to fuck you good and hard. Varro loves it the way I screw him, so I think that you're in for a treat," April winked at me, caressing my face in a way that caused my dick to painfully respond to her touch.

"Yeah, she's sweet in the sack, trust me on that," Dr. Phelps confirmed what she said.

"Wow ... for a second, I thought that she was your girlfriend as well as your colleague, which would definitely cause legal woes in my time. HR stands for 'human resources,' by the way. I'm surprised that professionals in this day and age don't know this. What do you do if somebody accuses you of sexual harassment? Is that no longer common? In my generation, the whole #MeToo movement would jump down people's throats, sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly, for things like that," I observed, furthering puzzling the apparently mystified hospital staff.

"I have heard of this movement, it's in the annals, of course, but it still seems so bizarre. People really seemed to conflate real problems with minor, petty issues a lot. To be honest, though, professional life is a lot less hectic thanks to the Plan. Nobody's poor anymore, no one has to fear being thrown out of work and onto the street. You receive your credits, you have your housing, and you have public health care. Many people have never worked on a payroll one day in their lives.

"It's okay, though. They volunteer for various programs and services, act as caregivers for children, the disabled, or the elderly, clean up trash, take up hobbies, paint, sing, drink, argue, do whatever occurs to them. People just aren't as ambitious for wealth and power like they used to be, though there are plenty who have careers. Many of us chose our fields for the love of our work, not to enrich ourselves, since it didn't cost us a single credit under the Plan, nor do we get rich from it," Varro elaborated a bit.

"So ... you literally just practice medicine because you enjoy it? No great pay-off, no great cost, no student loans, etc. Wow ... that's amazing!" I tried to wrap my head around the concept of people just doing whatever they loved, with money no longer an object.

"Of course. Yeah, I know, in your time, things were a lot more ... what's the word ... capitalistic, right? Our society is a bit different from that. Everyone draws an income from the Plan, along with a housing allowance, everyone has public health care, public education, and other basic public services. In return, well, the expectation is that we will live our lives peacefully, look out for each other, help each other out as necessary, do something to better society and our community, that kind of thing, but also pursue our dreams, whether it's running a shop or sponging down comatose patients that have been kept alive for close to two centuries," April filled in some of the gaps in my knowledge, getting handsy with both of us guys.

"And ... who ... pays for all of this? How is it covered? Financially and all that jazz. It's hard to fathom that this would be ... workable without some kind of tax or fee or something like that. Who runs the government? The Plan? Etc. How is it managed? I'm just very confused here," I probed a bit more, being truly awestruck at the idea of a civilization where people didn't have to worry about how to pay bills or something.

"The Plan draws from the natural resources of the planet, which is managed by the Stewards. Each Steward receives a stipend, they help administer the Plan and supervise the management of all resources, preserve a proper balance or harmony, maintain the ecosystem, that kind of thing. All credits are backed by the planetary resources and divided equally among all citizens, regardless of origins. No one is rich or poor, except that the Stewards receive their stipends and various people profit from whatever cottage industries or shops they might maintain.

"Almost no one is employed by these shops, though, just the owners, or in many cases, co-operatives. Most plants or factories are automated, anyway, and commutes have mostly been scaled back to whatever leisure entails. The Plan controls and operates all such plants, as well as employing what few staff are needed for the operation of the robots. It reached a point in society where, since pretty much all innovation, science, technology, etc. was derived from government research and grants, it was believed that no private firm had any right to profit off the public at that point," Varro continued April's point, even as he stroked her hair gently and cupped her breasts in front of me.

"What about taxes?" I wondered now.

"Not necessary. Taxes are revenue, a fiscal resource or asset, but this is a commodity-based economy, one where all such assets are owned and extracted by the Plan directly for the benefit of all citizens. The Plan is managed by the Stewards, as I said, with one eye on the environment and another on the social welfare of society at large. Since all money is backed entirely by the natural resources of the entire planet, and since there are no wars or armed forces to require any kind of diversion of such commodities into waste, its ability to maintain itself is quite sustainable, if not quite infinite or inexhaustible. Also, there is no such thing as debt. It simply has no purpose. People have all that they need to survive, even thrive, there is world peace, and there are no sovereign wealth funds from which to borrow," April beamed at me, even as she licked her lips at the sight of my package.

"So, wait, are you telling me that there is a single world government running the whole planet? Boy, would most of my family have gotten up in arms about that!" I chuckled at the massive structural changes that occurred while I was asleep.

"That is exactly what I'm telling you, but it's not the kind of brutal, autocratic regime that you might have expected. The whole planet is a giant co-operative commonwealth, a global enterprise where an elected slate of executives and lawmakers known as Stewards and Auditors oversee pretty much everything. The Auditors broadly stipulate the policies and legislation in place, provide oversight, and in effect, work like a global board of directors for a corporation that is human civilization itself.

"All human beings are viewed as stakeholders in this enterprise, with shares, or votes in this case, to direct any way that they please. There are also Judges, but these are appointed by the Stewards with the consent of the Auditors. So, you see, it's a global democracy with three branches of government, but in many ways, it's one massive public corporation with regular shareholder meetings. Everyone, regardless of race, gender, age, ethnicity, etc. is seen as a fellow citizen and stakeholder in society itself," Varro answered me with pride.

"Because everyone has skin in the game, right? That's true. When one thinks of it that way, it makes a helluva lot more sense. Everyone has skin in the game. So ... on a different note. What exactly is your relationship, both of you? I mean, April, you're hitting on me rather boldly, but you're also quite comfortable getting touchy feely with Varro here. Are you friends with benefits or dating or swingers or married or what? I'm afraid that I don't understand relationships in the 22nd century just yet," I confessed, feeling a bit uncertain despite my attraction to April.

"Well, that's another thing that you might well shocking, though I hadn't really considered it. I'm just so used to how relationship dynamics are in our time. Look, April and I are lovers, yes, but it's not exclusive, as you might have guessed. I'm her supervisor, one of many, being an MD, but it's not an issue any more than it is with any of the other people that we fuck. If you wanted to sleep with her, it's not an issue for me, not in the least.

"Hell, if she wanted to take you home with her for a while, it won't bother me at all. It might even be a good idea until you can get set up with your credits and your housing allowance. Mind you, it might be a while before you're healthy enough to sustain an erection, but you won't be released yet, anyway," Varro explained, much to my embarrassment at my weakened state.

"So, if I were to start dating someone else, too, it won't bother her ... or them?" I inquired, grasping the boundaries a little better.

"What's dating, babe?" April looked at me with her very wide, amber-colored eyes that matched her dirty blonde curls and her golden flesh ... every part of her luscious body was some variation of yellow or gold.

"Well, it's a custom from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, the early part of the latter, that is. Very anachronistic, so perhaps Nick can explain it better," Varro informed her, raising some eyebrows.

"Well, you arrange with someone to share a meal at a public venue, or do some other activity, such as go see a movie, and you spend time with that person, trying to know them better before you see if you want to develop a more serious relationship. Traditionally, at some point, you become physically intimate and exclusive to each other. After that point, if you're intimate with someone else, it's considered 'cheating' and socially shunned, as are you. Ostracized to an extent.

"I never much liked the custom, but was resigned to it to an extent, while others worried over its decline by the time that I lost consciousness. Same way that I resented the whole monogamy, but I had to work to avoid it. Also, in the past, the male partner, if any, paid for the meal," I grimaced at that last part, having been burned in the past.

"That sounds incredibly sexist and stupid, if you ask me, not to mention unfair. Why should anyone pay for someone else's meal, just because of their chromosomes or gender or any such nonsense? As with the monogamy thing, it sounds as if you won't miss it. Here, you don't date in that sense. You might share meals, but you share the bill and its cost as fairly as possible. There is no expectation of anything from a meal, and it certainly doesn't mean that you're intimate with someone, though you could be and often are.

"Also, in our society, there is no ... how do I put this, no rush, no hurry to put labels on a relationship or partnership. There are no timeframes, deadlines, worries about reaching some kind of artificial or arbitrary 'relationship goals,' that's the phrase that I read a few times in connection with your era. It sounds bizarre to me. I was brought up to take things as they go and just enjoy the intimacy, not worry about where it might lead. That's not to say that no one worries about such things, but they generally seem very strange and obsessed to us, so they only draw people as co-dependent as themselves," April explained at length now.

"So, at the risk of borrowing a cliche, it's the journey for you, not the destination, that matters. You're not worried about engagements, wedding dates, etc. You just enjoy each other's company and bodies ... without rushing things or feeling any kind of pressure to 'go steady,' or any such nonsense," I concluded, to which April replied with a laugh and a kiss.

"Wedding dates? I ... don't know how to tell you this, but marriage doesn't exist anymore, not as you think of it. People still hold weddings at times, but very few actual benefits are even connected to any kind of romantic partnership, and no licenses are issued at all. People don't believe that they need any kind of official sanction or recognition by the authorities to be together. 'Divorce' is largely covered by a declaration of intent or something verbal like that. People just don't think that way as much anymore," April told me as she leaned over me and her breasts pressed against my chest.

"So, I really am quite the old fogey here, talking marriage, dating, and all of this capitalist stuff, while you're bringing me out of my Rip Van Winkle slumber and into awareness of the present. It reminds me of an Al Steiner story that I read years ago. Only there the main character woke up on Mars, after being cryogenically frozen. Here, you didn't do that, but you did manage to keep me from aging or dying. Very fascinating, the technology that you've used here. That world was also very utopian, far more than I would have considered realistic, mind you. Yet, here I am, in a post-capitalist utopia, it seems, one that is nevertheless hardly anything out of Orwell, a bit more Edward Bellamy and his 'Looking Backward,' if you will. I really am, as you say, a living time capsule," I noted, even as April checked my pulse and looked inside my ear.

"Your weight is very low, just warning you. It's something that we'll have to bring up. We'll have to feed you liquids a lot prior to switching fully to solid foods, and naturally vitamin supplements will be essential for your recovery. You'll really need a major physical therapy regimen, to help strengthen your muscles. Of course, I can think of at least one form of exercise that I would very much enjoy helping you practice. All the more reason to crash at my place, papi," April encouraged me, even as she took Varro's hand and they left me to my thoughts ... and the glories of twenty-second century technology, such as the interactive screen.

"It responds to voice commands, just so you know," Varro told me, saying, "we'll have someone in with a smoothie to help you take in some nutrition. It will be easier on your stomach than solid foods for your breakfast."

I gave a tired smile as I lazily asked the screen, "show me the program guide."