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mockers@aol.com

Michel Mockers













2054




Mark positioned himself right in front of the screen fixed on the wall of his bedroom. The screen lit up. A beautiful blond woman appeared, smiling, and said with the most voluptuous voice, “Good afternoon, Mark. We are happy to see you back home safe. For your entertainment tonight, we can offer you the tenth episode of the new series on GP’s life. We hope you will enjoy it. Good evening, Mark. See you tomorrow. I will wake you up at seven, as usual, if you agree.” The screen went dark.

Bastards!” Mark said in himself, not aloud in case the screen would eventually record his words.

Mark’s house was a very small two-story house of no definite style in what was certainly a quiet street in good old times, if there ever were some good old times. On the first floor were his living room, a staircase leading to the second floor, a kitchen, and a toilet. In the kitchen, a small door opened on a staircase going down to a basement. On the second floor were a relatively large bedroom, a bathroom, and a closet. Upstairs and downstairs had television screens on the walls, as was the rule for people high ranking in the Administration.

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