F.O.L. Department: The Future Is Now

“It's such a beautiful day,” the girl said, with open arms and her smiling face pointing to the sky. She clenched her teeth and jumped angrily into a squat. Tensing her muscles on purpose, hoping to relax, she stayed like that for a moment. Why can’t I enjoy it then, she thought, frowning.

“What the hell are you doing, Rita?” an older woman asked her. Rita straightened herself up and forcefully smiled. “A..it’s a new TikTok relaxing trend. Yes,” she said. “It’s for -” Rita continued, but was interrupted. “I don’t care. Back to work,” the woman commanded as she held the back door of the restaurant open. Fuck, Rita silently cursed in her head. “Now,” one hand holding the door and the other holding an apron for Rita.

With a sigh, Rita took the apron and marched in through the door into the dark. –The familiar cluttering noise and the unseen, hovering resentment stretching through the kitchen. “La Vita Magnific” –best high-end restaurant uptown, known for succulent meals to the public. And known for low salaries to the staff.

Apron on, she reached the empty basin. Rita glanced into it with dread. She knew that was no ordinary basin – a soul sucking, nail breaking, neverending pitfall of plates. Human saliva, snot, and leftovers fill the basin just like that.

She arms herself with rubber gloves up to her elbows. And dives into the sea of plates that damn basin conjured within seconds. How many plates will it take to get out of debt, she thought, scrubbing.

Scrub. Laughter outside of the kitchen, she didn’t look. Scrub. Hot water seeps through the crack in her ancient gloves. Scrub. The lady, the demon itself, stretched a thin envelope. Automatically, Rita takes the envelope of never enough. And walks out the same back door. The back door of hope after a shift. The back door of demise before.

After an Odyssey of public transportation, she reached her tiny studio lifelessly. Rita looked at her front door. Funny, she thought, you must be cousins, reflecting on the back door of demise. She opened the door, which could not be fully opened. The bed frame, the size of her studio, blocked the door. She opened her arms, gravity taking control, and sank into the mattress.

Her only comfort was her battered phone, which held videos of strangers and their happiness. In the never-ending sensory-stimulating prompts and notifications, a friend sent their video.

Rita opened it, and her jaw dropped.

The brain was not able to process what her eyes watched frantically. A friend, a confidant, a brother in the same shitstorm of life struggles. Last time she heard from him, he was crying about his plethora of bills and zero money to pay them. He was smiling.

Rita thought she was watching an AI-generated video or a Sci-fi movie. Was this… deepfake? No filters. She blinked twice. Just Shane beaming with happiness. Champagne bottle in his hands. Spraying the other happy people around.

What the fuck is this, she thought. His wardrobe consisted of the same hoodie and trousers for years she has known him. Did he win the lottery? Rita, without realizing it, already sent a DM. “W.T.Fudge?” Simple and to the point.

He replied with an Instagram video call. Puzzled, Rita looked at the incoming call notification. She answered.

“Yo, my sister from another mister!” music blasting and the background shaking, he said, “It’s been ages, my friend. What’s up?”

What’s up? Ages?? “What the Hell?” his phone shook. He looked at her, confused at first about her outburst. Then his face shifted from confusion to realization. “We need to talk,” he smiled. “Call sick tomorrow and I’ll pick you up. Gotta go now,” winking, he ended the call.

More bewildered than before the video call, Rita gasped. Checking his posts the transformation was unbelievable. From the day he got his haircut to choosing luxury clothes. The proof was undeniable. That motherfucker won the lottery and didn’t tell me.

She had to see this through. A text message ‘Can’t come tomorrow, I’m sick’ was sent to the Demon Boss. Flustered and tired, the winning combination for proper rest and sweet dreams. But the dreams didn’t come. The sleep was broken, and she woke up even more tired at the sound of her alarm. I forgot to switch it off, she groaned.

“That idiot Shane,” stretching in bed. A message awaited her on her phone. ‘My chauffeur is gonna pick you up at seven am, because you forgot your alarm, 100% LOL.’

The chauffeur? Before she could properly think, a knock echoed across her mini studio. The time showed seven.

She looked at her door. Knock, knock, knock. And then silence. She slowly opened the door to its maximum position and saw a man in a sleek, dark suit. “Rita Knox?” he asked, smiling at her.

“The chauffeur?” she asked, eyes wide open.

Forgotten butterflies buzzed in her stomach at the energy of his eyes. And the raised temperature in her blood cells answered his smile. She gawked at him like a fan of their idol celebrity. “Mrs. Knox?” he asked again.

“Yes. Ah, no,” slowly disappearing behind her door. Awkwardly, “What I mean is, Miss. Miss Knox. But just Rita is fine.” She blurted while grimacing, embarrassed behind the safety of the door. Oh my God, she thought, and then she saw her reflection on the lonely mirror in her studio. OH MY GOD, her brain screamed. The mirror on the wall seemed to be grinning while showing her reflection.

The apron, decorated with leftovers, was still clutching her body. Her eyes glanced at a cute, teal pyjama on the side of the bed. The horror that’s supposed to be a fashionable bob cut, the face that would gladly appear as Picasso's autoportrait. I’m a total wreck, she sighed.

She closed the door. “Miss Kno–I mean ‘just’ Rita, is everything alright?” his voice made her blush even more. “I am Bradley. Mr. Ward has instructed me to take you to him as soon as you are ready. I will be waiting by the car.” Rita was already half decent. Apron gone, hair tamed, almost ready.

In front of the building, the car’s sheer presence made her small street cover in embarrassment – Rolls-Royce, where only taxis pass by reluctantly. Like a mouse in the mist or Alice in Wonderland, the feeling of not belonging made her miss all the scenery and lose the sense of time. “We are here,” Bradley said.

The mystery and unreality, battling for a feeling of common sense, her brain only had enough power to let out a low “O.K.”

She thought, climbing the stairs. Is all of this a dream? Each step was a new thought. Lottery? Or a long-lost rich, dead cousin? A white door awaited. Funny how all doors are not made the same, she thought.

No squeaks, no effort, the door opened their embrace, and a smile welcomed her. “It has been ages,” Shane said, embracing her. All of her worries and theories vanished; this was Shane. Only his hugs would give her this warm feeling – the feeling of not being alone.

Her low chuckle evolved into a giggle, which boomed into laughter. Holding her hands, Shane joined her laughter with warmth.

“I am absolutely confused, lost, and…What happened to you?” Rita asked expectantly.

“Nothing much,” with a chuckle. “The future came early, that’s all.”

Rita looked at her friend Shane –a new haircut, healthy body, confidence everywhere…a new, improved Shane. The transformation was unbelievable just a few months ago. A quizzical look in her eyes begged for answers.

“Let’s sit down,” he said, leading her to a coffee table. “This is something you will have trouble believing, but it is the truth. So…” With a deep breath, he continued. “I received all of this,” he waved his hand, “the money for all this from myself.”

Confusion was building up behind her smile, her eyes forming a question he answered. “Myself from the future! And before you say anything, take this and try to believe.” He handed her a business card. F.O.L. Department -The Future Is Now.

“Wha-” she tried to ask while holding the card, but he interrupted. “I know it sounds crazy, and you think I’m on some drugs or whatever. But I swear to you - this is all mine…just from the future.” He said it as if everything should make sense now.

Tensed facial muscles, she leaned forward, and her gaze narrowed as she stared at her friend. She thought, do I call the ambulance or smack reality back into him? Relaxing her muscles, she took his hand. The moment she opened her mouth, a doorbell rang.

“Oh, good. They’re here,” he said ecstatically. “They will explain all the legal mumbo jumbo.” Her gaze followed him as he went to the door. Two men in tuxedos entered the apartment. One of them strided to the desk, opening his briefcase, and the other gracefully approached her.

“Rita, it’s a pleasure seeing you again,” he said with a friendly smile. He grabbed her hand and shook it. The confusion was back in her eyes, brain, and every fiber of her body.

“I don’t know you,” she said, standing, as she slowly backed away.

“Ah, yes. We haven’t met yet,” he said as he sat down. “Timekeeping is not easy in our department.” The man looked at his companion, who removed a few shiny metal boxes from the briefcase. The companion nodded and said, “All good – the parameters are all in the expected probability flux.”

“Rita,” the man said, “before we continue, can you check your bank balance?”

Sceptical, she reached for her phone. Her fingers trembled, eyes darting across the screen. Confusion twisted into a wave of panic, rising, tightening in her chest. A cold wave of disbelief hit her – numbers don’t lie, but this can’t be right. She blinked, refreshed the screen. Again.

Was this a glitch? A scam? Her breath caught. This can’t be real!

Her bank account balance showed one billion and fifty five million dollars balance.

Rita slumped into the chair, too shocked to speak. “How is this possible?” she asked, her eyes glued to the screen.

Shane sat next to her on the arm rest. “I know the feeling, “ he said warmly. “But it is real.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m gonna fix us some breakfast while you guys finish,” and disappeared into the vast apartment.

She looked up at the man’s warm face totally defeated.

He looked back and smiled. “I’ve been doing this for a while now, and I came to the realization that a full explanation of how this all works –is just a waste of time.” He slid across the table his business card and said, “F.O.L. –stands for Future Opportunities Loan Department. We simply give you what you will have in the future, right now, depending on the purchase plan.”

“I don’t understand,” she said weakly. “Why do I have all this money when I didn’t sign –purchased anything?” her entire body pleaded for an explanation.

“You didn’t, yet. But you will,” he said. “You did already. If it is easier to understand, in the future you already signed and approved everything.” A weak, buzzing sound loomed in the room. It was coming from the shiny, metal boxes.

“This is all legalities and to fully explain the procedures behind it all –it would take you a doctorate in Quantum Field Theory to begin to grasp the information. And as I have told you before,” he paused. “Sorry, as I told the Future-you before, all the missed opportunities you have accumulated up to this point in time, have been credited into your ‘Super’ tier loan package. That in itself adjusted the probability values of your future opportunities to skyrocket, which benefits have been transferred into your account now.”

Bewildered, mouth opened, her brain under siege from the reality of his words and this whole situation. “I just don’t understand any of this,” she said, utterly defeated.

The man smiled. He took her hand and looked in her eyes. “With all due respect,” he said with a sigh. “You don’t need to. It will all be less confusing in the near future, I promise.”

Still filled with disbelief, trembling. “Can I use this money?” She gulped, “All of it?”

An answer she expected. An answer she knew he would say. A short and sharp answer “Yes!”

The man’s companion was packing the buzzing boxes in the briefcase. He looked at Rita and smiled. “We apologize for any inconveniences caused by our brief negligence.”

“What does he mean with that?” she said, even more puzzled.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” said the man sitting across from her. “The reason your premiums are this much is due to our complaint settlement.” He took a paper from his pocket and handed it to her. On it, in her handwriting, were just two lines:

This isn’t what I signed up for. And I would like to lodge an official complaint.

“Future’s me problem. Can’t wait,” she sighed.

The two men nodded, already halfway out of the door. The one dabbling with the metal boxes smiled. “See? Your’e getting the hang of it.” They left.

Rita sat in silence, part of her still questioning everything, part of her excited about the thrill of a shopping spree. Her stomach growled, ensuring the only certainty left - hunger.

Shane came with a mouth-watering omelet and slid the plate in front of her.

“I know;” he said, smiling. “Nothing seems real, right?” He took a bite of his own food. “But I promise you –there’s nothing more real than buying your own yacht!”

She gave in to her growling stomach and took a bite. “I’m afraid you might be right,” she said, chewing. Still eating, she tapped her phone and opened Amazon.

I’ll understand eventually…right? She thought, as she scrolled.