The year is 2030.
We must celebrate Winter Holiday alone. General Fauci just discovered COVID-666, the thirtieth new strain since the New Normal began; every death on planet earth is attributed to this deadly new variant, just as they have to the other strains every year since Year Zero (formerly known as 2020).
Alone in our climate-friendly shipping container homes, we wear goggles, gloves, and masks. Between bites of our climate-friendly dinner of mashed beetles, we replace our masks. Things will be different when we “flatten the curve,” or when there is a new vaccine, unless the Regime isolates a new strain. Then it’s back to the drawing board.
Occasionally, we can communicate virtually with coworkers—when the climate-friendly rolling blackouts aren’t in effect. We have no “loved ones.” Everyone over the age of sixty lives on COVID reservations in total isolation, and children under the age of eighteen live on government campuses to keep them safe from the pandemic.
A black transgender Santa Claus adorns the wall, next to the Winter Tree decorated with condoms and topped with abortion clamps. “Christmas” is an archaic and offensive term, banned about six years ago along with the racist, misogynistic, anti-Semite that it celebrated, “Jesus Christ.” We only know what the Ministry of Truth tells us, because those nasty Bibles were burned about five years ago.
For dessert, we have our choice of weekly ration from the Ministry of Health. Most of us choose the opioid mixture. If we’ve exhibited no willful behaviors for the past year, and if we’re in compliance with this week’s vaccination requirements, we might be allowed access to the pornography viewer. It was once called a “television,” but its new name reflects its purpose.
The next day, we will get back to work. Nothing has been open for years now, so we don’t ever need to leave our container homes.
It’s a wonderful life.