2032

After years of re-runs and reality TV game shows, the time finally arrived when viewing figures began to drop. There were only so many Big Brother and X-Factor episodes for people to watch before they knew each off by heart.

“Oh I remember this one,” would be heard from the couches around the world, talking about a classic episode from two thousand and thirteen. It had already been repeated on many occasions.

Finally, in the year twenty-thirty-two, it happened; a new and original game show was released on channel four in the United Kingdom.

The first advertisements were shown during commercial breaks announcing the show as ‘Exclusively Original,’ and, ‘All TV lovers won’t want to miss it.”

As soon as these were shown, they became a main topic of conversation everywhere you went.

I personally first heard about the show when I was in the supermarket. I’d scanned and packed
my goods as I went, and was waiting at the weigh in so I could pay. An older lady, maybe in her seventies spoke to me from behind as she waited for me to finish with my shopping.

“What do you think of that new TV show that’s starting?” She asked, surprising me. It wasn’t often that I heard complete strangers talk to one another; it was something they used to do in the old days, not now.

“What show would that be?” I asked her, not turning around. Making eye contact when addressed by a stranger is the height of impoliteness nowadays. I wouldn’t dare do that to an elderly lady. Instead, I left my back to her and continued to place my shopping bags on the scale, showing disinterest. Politeness is instilled at a young age and I’ve always been a polite person.

“Oh you know, the ‘Exclusively Original’ one.”

I fished in my back pocket for my card to pay. My phone was there and it must have been showing as a bulge through my pocket. Just to be polite, I took it out and showed even less interest in what she was saying as I began to poke at the screen to check my messages.

“It looks like a great show from the look of the man on the screen.” She continued.

I sniggered to myself as I poked at the display on my phone.

‘A screen? She still has a screen,’ I thought to myself. I thought my flat plasma ‘In Air’ projection receptor was old. I actually then realized that this lady probably remembered the invention of the worlds thinnest substance in Twenty-Thirteen, the stuff that moved viewing the TV to the level we are at now. I learned all about that a few years ago in a school history lesson.

“What’s it about?” I asked, genuinely interested, but making an effort not to show it. I continued to poke at my messages in the hope one would appear. The beep of the phone and apologising to take a message is one of the main niceties in twenty thirty two.

“Oh,” She almost whistled as she made the high pitched noise behind my purposely turned back, “I don’t know. I only seen the advert.”

I sniggered again; she still called it an advert. I knew she meant the promi; my mother still called them adverts before her culling time. Promi, as in promotion for you others that still call them adverts.

I politely put my phone back in my pocket, picked up my bags and headed to the shop door without acknowledging the lady. A couple of Culling Guards pushed past me as I exited through the doors. I turned to look where they were headed, and the poor old dear I’d just been talking too was grabbed. One pulled out an age scanner, which I heard beeping, cuffed her and began to pull her in my direction.

“Must be my time,” she shouted so all the shop could hear and began to laugh.

As the guards pulled her towards the door, they shoved me out of the way so they could take her out to the ‘Social Control’ van. I turned to say something to the guard and made eye contact with the woman for the first time.

There was sadness in them eyes. It was as though she didn’t want it to happen, the final thing that happens to us all.

I politely imitated the wiping away of a tear and acknowledged her, saying “Boo-Hoo.” I then pulled out my phone until she was out of sight.

I didn’t know that the show the old lady told me about was on that night; I was genuinely excited when the presenter appeared on the ‘Air Projector,’ in the centre of my living room.

“Watch the elderly cull one another,” the presenter told us. “If they tried to avoid it, they can do it to each other.”

I got myself comfy and prepared to watch what was on offer.

The very first contestant show was the lady who was captured at the supermarket that day.

“78 year old Gwladys will take on 82 year old Doris for the chance of a painless culling.”

Both were handed weapons.

My phone beeped for the first time in about two minutes.

‘This looks good,’

‘Yeah… LOL.” I typed in reply and respectfully added, ‘I met that old hag today.’