Kristian Kirchev Rain in 2032And it was raining cats and dogs, as an old woman at the bus station said. I left earlier, I hadn't been to the shop for an eternity and this time I had to go, because the toilet paper was over, and the food was over, and though there was nothing to shit, the toilet paper was on the top of the list of things to buy. From the entrance of the building to the bus stop I got sufficiently wet, after the wind turned my umbrella inside out two times, and broke it the third time around. And the bus was not coming, or it was coming, but was not yet to be seen. There is one sure way, I know, to make the bus come - you light a cigarette and just when you have managed to pull two or three times, there it is. I smoked three cigarettes. No, four. At the fifth one, the aged lady told me: "Stop smoking, boy. Why do you smoke that much, you young people... you are ruining your life."I gave her an innocent look, then a malicious one, and she gave up nagging, yet the granny on the bench gave me such a pitiful look, that I didn't feel like smoking any more. A bus passed by but didn't stop. Not that it was crowded - it wasn't, only that the driver is a "bastard" and deserves a "you-know-what you -know-where", as we agreed uniformly under the shelter. We waited for the second bus for a long time. A tall girl scampered over to the bus station, crossing the double lane of the highway, wrapped up in her fur coat. The granny nodded, even bent down, and started arranging the bags between her feet. The aged lady turned to the granny and puffed out some white steam into the cold air. The girl was not beautiful, nor was she ugly, she was even pretty. She looked at all of us, yet she did not look at me. She cuddled near the plastic publicity wall and started waiting for the bus with us... While all my thoughts had already flown out of my head and new ones were starting to emerge, our bus decided to show up on the horizon of the wet highway, its spot lights coming closer into the lines of the water drips. It Came and it Stopped! Well, a little further along the highway, but we all together and somehow content strolled towards the front open door. Yes, he did not open the back door - the one closer to us, but the front one. The granny was dragging along at the back, the aged lady (it is time for me to mention that she was around 50-60 years of age) was hurrying, stepping from one foot on the other like a Russian doll, and the girl in the fur coat tried to stay close to me, in the rain... Well, the driver pulled a dirty trick on us, by closing the door just when we got there, and left quickly. I guess he got tired of waiting us. I cursed, but quietly when I remembered the ladies were around me. What is more my curses never make it to "dirty", I just cannot say it. Well, except when I am really mad. Now it was rather funny. Ha-ha. Very funny, as if, but I was really amused. I went back to the shelter, wet, and started to talk. How fucked-up, oops, how ability-challenged are those bus drivers. The granny mentioned how nice it used to be once upon a time, how polite were the people behind the steering wheels. The aged lady nodded in accordance and the chick was looking at me with wet eyelashes and was probably wondering if I had central heating and if I made good tea. Well, at least I saw things that way. Yes - I agreed - machines are driving people! Robots, autopilot software, mechanized cyborgs. Bodies without a soul. Programmed boxes, no brain. Dumb stuff, to entrust the transportation of people to be executed by robot-drivers, but it is all our fault. And now there is no way to get rid of them if decide to, The Syndicate of Working Robots and the one of Robots in Afterwork Pension will scream in protest to the Gods and back how we neglected their rights to work. Well, there is nothing to be done- I have nothing in the fridge, my tea is over, the coffee, too. Let alone the toilet paper, I am sick and tired of begging the neighbors. I need it for nothing else than blowing my nose. I hope you understand, it is more convenient than the Kleenex from the pharmacy. And the shop is all the way in town. It is raining cats and dogs. The robot drivers and the terminator ticket-control are stiff with electrical pleasure, and here we are feeling sorry for one another. What is more, during the last half hour the girl and I have been cuddling in her fur coat. An hour ago, the aged lady left for home, muttering under her nose. And the granny doze off at the bench, most probably gone with the rhythm of the rain drops hitting the shelter. Two busses passed by, I ran out of cigarettes, the girl ran out of cigarettes too, and we finally decided to go to her place. It was raining fucking hard and it was warm at her place, and there was tea and central heating and Kleenex. Well, I just might get used to it.