Jenny

I hate the rain. It makes everything muddy and miserable. It reminds me of the day I lost Finbarr, my cousin and best friend. He was only ten years old when he overdosed on some pills he was given at school because he banged his knee. The teacher who gave him didn’t know they would kill him, he said. I saw the look in my father's face that day and knew that James was not long for this world.

Now I have to walk in the rain to meet Tom, the man my father wants me to marry. He says it’s for the best, that Tom is a good match for me. He says he knows what’s best for me, better than I do. He doesn’t care that I don’t love Tom, that I don’t even like him. In fact Tom is creepy. He looks young but with youth serum who knows how old he really is.

I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to change. I don’t want to marry Tom. But what choice do I have? Jobs are scarce and wages are low. Computers have taken over everything, from manufacturing to farming to banking. They say that humans will become obsolete and irrelevant.

What chance do I have in this world? What future do I have? What hope do I have?

I can’t believe my mother lost her job because of a drone. She worked as a waitress at the local diner for 15 years, serving customers with a smile and a kind word. She loved her job and was good at it. But then the owner decided to replace her and the other staff with drones. He said they were cheaper, faster, and more efficient. He said they could cook and serve food without any mistakes or complaints.

But I don’t think he realized what he was losing. He was losing the human touch, the personal connection, the warmth and hospitality that made the diner a special place. He was losing loyal customers who came not only for the food, but for the friendly service and the familiar faces. He was losing my mother, who worked hard to support our family and who deserved better than to be replaced by a machine.

I hate those drones. They look like rolling shelves with trays and screens. They have no personality, no emotion, no soul. They can’t chat with the customers, or crack a joke, or offer a compliment. They can’t empathize with the customers, or comfort them, or cheer them up. They can’t do anything that my mother could do.

They can’t replace her. They can’t replace anyone.

I think about my father, who is guarding our home with his gun. He says he has to protect us from the outsiders, who want to take our land and our resources. He says they don’t care about us, or the environment, or the consequences of their actions. He says they are greedy and ruthless, and they will stop at nothing to get what they want.

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He says we live on a mountain of mine waste, but it’s our mountain. He says we have a right to be here, to live here, to die here. He says we have a history here, a culture here, a community here. He says we have a dignity here, a pride here, a spirit here.

He says we are not trash, we are not rats, we are not waste.

But as I pass by a dead rat on the road, I wonder if he’s right. I wonder if we have anything worth fighting for, worth living for, worth dying for. I wonder if we have any hope, any future, any purpose. I wonder if we have any choice, any voice, any power.

I wonder if we are anything at all.

I respect my father for doing what he had to do to protect us. He was a brave man, who faced many dangers and enemies. He had to kill some of them, but he never enjoyed it. He always said it was a necessary evil, a last resort, a matter of survival.

But now, things have changed. Drones have made it easier for anyone to attack us from the sky, without risking their own lives. Drones have made it harder for us to defend ourselves, without exposing ourselves to their cameras and weapons. Drones have made it possible for them to force us from our home, without giving us a chance to fight back.

Drones have made us helpless. Which is why my father has sent me to Tom.

My father thinks that Tom can protect me from the drones. He says that Tom has connections and resources, that he can shield me from the threats and dangers of the modern world. He says that Tom is the only one who can offer me a safe and secure future.

But I don’t believe him. I don’t think that Tom cares about me or my safety. I think that he only wants to use me as a trophy, a prize, a possession. I think that he only wants to control me, to limit me, to stifle me. I think that he only wants to take me away from everything I love and cherish.

I don’t want to be with Tom. I don’t want to be his wife, his property, his slave. I don’t want to be his victim. But I have to think about the future. About what could happen and has happened to Cordella.

I think about old Cordella, who used to live next door to us. She was like a grandmother to me, always baking cookies and telling stories. She was kind and wise, and she always had a smile on her face. She taught me how to knit and how to play chess. She was my friend.

But then a Bring Out Your Dead van arrived. The company Tom worked for came along and took her away. The workers in there bullet proof armour told us they could take care of her better than we could. They said it was a nice place, with comfortable rooms and friendly staff. They said it was a place where she could be happy.

But I didn’t believe them. I know now that Bring Out Your Dead vans actually send the old people to be murdered. Had i know then I might have died trying to stop them take her away. I am glad Cordella's family all died in a home robbery the night they took her away. I made sure to wash my father's boots well that night.

I wonder what Cordella felt in her last moments, as they dragged her to her death. Did she feel scared, angry, or betrayed? Did she try to resist, or did she give up? Did she cry, or did she stay silent? Did she hope for a miracle, or did she accept her fate?

I wish I could have been there for her, to hold her hand and tell her I love her. I wish I could have stopped them, to fight for her rights and dignity. I wish I could have saved her, to keep her with me and make her happy.

I miss her still. But now I am approaching Tom and have to smile at the man who I will marry. I have to marry him because I do not want to end up like Cordella