Added£0.99Add to basket(A short story of 2048 words)
Chocolate
Fantasy Fantasy - Speculative
by Gill James
A future without money ... in which chocolate can be significant.
Billy Elkins pressed the send button. He watched as 500 messages made their way to members of the Ambosso Advertising Group and thought it just a little ironic that the people receiving the message were seen as clients and that indeed the company he worked for was called an advertising company. Since the Bank Dissolution Act there had been no actual competition and no need to advertise, really, except by the people who needed work doing. Which reminded him. He must find someone to paint his bathroom ceiling. He would add that to Monday’s list. He suspected there would be a long wait.
Still, that was him done for the week. Since he was obliged to work until he was 68, he was at least grateful that the demands of Ambosso were not too onerous, that he got to work in a pleasant office and that even as a bachelor, he was allowed a two-bedroomed apartment.
“Coming for a drink?” asked Ronnie Parkinson, his colleague at the next desk. Ronnie was the same age as him but had been with Ambosso two years longer and seemed to know so much more about everything.
Why not? It would give him a bit of the old Friday night feeling. It wasn’t the same, now, though, when you didn’t have to stop to think about whether you had enough money left to buy beer and you only had to worry about whether the pub actually had any. Still, chances were, if they didn’t have beer, they’d have something...
Billy Elkins pressed the send button. He watched as 500 messages made their way to members of the Ambosso Advertising Group and thought it just a little ironic that the people receiving the message were seen as clients and that indeed the company he worked for was called an advertising company. Since the Bank Dissolution Act there had been no actual competition and no need to advertise, really, except by the people who needed work doing. Which reminded him. He must find someone to paint his bathroom ceiling. He would add that to Monday’s list. He suspected there would be a long wait.
Still, that was him done for the week. Since he was obliged to work until he was 68, he was at least grateful that the demands of Ambosso were not too onerous, that he got to work in a pleasant office and that even as a bachelor, he was allowed a two-bedroomed apartment.
“Coming for a drink?” asked Ronnie Parkinson, his colleague at the next desk. Ronnie was the same age as him but had been with Ambosso two years longer and seemed to know so much more about everything.
Why not? It would give him a bit of the old Friday night feeling. It wasn’t the same, now, though, when you didn’t have to stop to think about whether you had enough money left to buy beer and you only had to worry about whether the pub actually had any. Still, chances were, if they didn’t have beer, they’d have something...