The Future is Now

May 12, 2025 Webmaster

by Karla Ramirez

“Where is the goddamned passkey?” I mumbled, stumbling through the house, barely awake. This is what I get for sleeping through my alarm. My watch beeped. Fifteen minutes until my meeting.

Thank goodness I caved and bought that android, I’d set it up in my office over the weekend. The instructions said I needed at least five to readjust to my surroundings. Numbers swam in my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to recall them.

5 2 2 0 #

I bolted to the AndroPod. It had looked sleek and futuristic in ads. Now, in my dimly lit apartment, it loomed like a fog-filled, neon-lit coffin.

“The future is now,” I thought dryly as I slid inside.

“An empty bladder and intestine are recommended.”

The voice startled me. Damn it. I groaned and climbed back out, racing to the bathroom. One glance at the clock—three minutes lost. No time to double-check the number. It’s fine, I’m pretty sure.

Back in the pod, I let the lid seal shut.

“Time allotted?”

“Forty-eight hours,” I said. Obviously, I wouldn’t be gone that long, but everyone on the internet said that was the standard setting.

“Select android location.”

I shut my eyes and recited the numbers again. There was a five—I was sure of it.

“Two, five, two, zero, pound.”

The pod hissed. Oxygen flooded the chamber, cool against my skin. A tube snaked down from above, forcing its way into my mouth.

“Please remain still.”

My throat convulsed as the tube pushed deeper. My stomach clenched as something thick and gel-like filled my insides. I gagged. My limbs locked in place. Panic surged, but then—

“Five, four, three, two, one.”

Darkness.

I gasped awake. My limbs sprawled beneath me, my body twisted awkwardly on the floor. Everything felt wrong.

I tried to stand. My hands—no, paws—slipped against the smooth tile. A tail flicked behind me, and my ears twitched at a distant hum of electricity. My vision was sharper at the edges, colors slightly muted but movement crisp.

A notification blinked in my vision.

Welcome to PAndroid: SirLicksALot.

Wait. What?

The interface unfurled like an unwelcome pop-up ad:

Pawed Android: SirLicksALot
No special features
Fur Color: Black
Eyes: Yellow
System: Locked

Oh, no. No, no, no.

I had said the wrong number.

Who the hell buys an android cat? They’d barely approved human-to-humanoid consciousness transfers! Amazing. Billions spent on mind-transfer tech, and they couldn’t code in a simple ‘Double-check your destination’ warning. Really inspiring.

Focus, Brenn. Get back to your body before you start licking your butt.

“Return home,” I commanded.

I meant to say it, but what came out was—

“Mew.”

Oh. My. God.

I tried again. “Return—”

“Mew.”

Panic clawed up my throat. I wanted to cry. Could androids cry? Do cats even have tear ducts?

I needed to fix this. Fast. Before instincts kicked in.

Because I was really starting to wonder what that thing twitching at the edge of my vision was.

And why I suddenly wanted to chase it.