Lost In Chronological Transit

20260731

Prompt from Eiiri’s Prompt Foundry, “Pride 2 Disability Boogaloo”.

At first, the discovery that time travel only worked forwards was seen as a massive disappointment. But then an enterprising and charismatic young politician pointed out this meant anything which was sent forward in time could not be sent back.
His platform of slashing healthcare costs by spending a fortune to send all disabled people forward three hundred years was wildly popular, with proponents eagerly parroting his confident claims about how by then all disabilities would be cured. It was a kindness, really. And besides, building the time portal would provide so much employment!
Even his political opponents agreed that the time portal was a good idea. After all, surely other uses could be found for it. So development went ahead.
And then, well, it only made sense to test it (as much as one could, when results couldn’t be sent back), and what could be better than sending through patients in hospice? Nothing else could be done with them. Er, for them. There were even a fair number of volunteers. Particularly once the portal was declared successfully operational.
And then…
~ * ~
Tanya had managed to cling to employment until her phone died, taking most of her workarounds with it. Now she was sitting slumped on one of the “Trams To The Future”, clutching the ticket she’d been given, to claim her tiny bag of personal possessions from storage once “across”. She was number 4998853.
The tram started revving up. She screwed her eyes tight shut.
It had to work, everyone said it worked, and besides there was nothing she could do now except hope-
While she’d expected a jolt, it was more like the whole world blinked. The portal’s deafening whirr died away, leaving… birdsong?
Tanya’s eyes snapped open, to find the sterile research facility had been replaced with a huge colourful lobby, with “Welcome Time Travellers!” in big letters above the long desk.
It… had… worked?
“Hello!” A figure dressed in a suit waved vigorously as the tram came to a halt. “Can everyone hear me?”
Tanya nodded numbly, the motion echoed by the rest of the passengers.
“Alright. Good. Let’s get this out of the way - you’re thirty years in the future.”
What?
“Er, I’m very sorry if that’s a disappointment. Technology has advanced a fair bit from your time, but, uh, probably nowhere near as much as you’d hoped.”
He glanced down at the clipboard he was holding and brightly mused “Though, it looks like most of you don’t need medical intervention, anyway. So that’s good.”
What?
“Everyone’s got their tickets, right? Good, good. We’ve put together preliminary support packages based on your medical files, but we’ll need to do some quick check-ups just to be sure, bear with…”
Tanya sat in a stupor until she was called, and found herself facing a kindly doctor. “Tanya Evens?”
She nodded.
“Severe dyscalculia, it says here?”
“Y-yes…”
“Anything else? That’s not on the record? It’s perfectly safe to tell me. I promise we only want to help.”
She uncertainly shook her head.
“Tsk.” The doctor muttered, handing Tanya a phone very like the one she remembered. “I’m glad these stop soon.”
“They do?”
“Oh, of course. You won’t know.” They shot her an contrite, sympathetic glance. “The whole farce comes crashing down after two years, when the promised savings haven’t happened and the Jamila vs Gov case makes it through the international courts. Tragic shame about all the people like yourself who’d been chronologically uprooted by then.”
“What… what about the people who organised it?” Tanya asked sharply, sitting up. “If it’s only been thirty years, are-”
“All in prison, as of last year. After what had truly happened came to light. I hope that’s some consolation.”
“…Some.” Tanya grimaced.
“Fair.” Gesturing to the phone, they said “Now… this is running an operating system designed to mimic the one which was current when, er, you left. Let me show you how to use the apps, and make sure they work for you…”
Turning on the device and seeing those familiar icons was like a comforting hug. She was quickly able to gather the assistive apps she was used to together for easy use.
“I’ll try out the rest later.”
“Very sensible. Oh, and one of the things that happened while you were, er, in transit is planned obsolescence is now banned. So don’t worry, that device is built to last and can be fixed up at any repair centre.”
“Oh! Good.”
“I’m also happy to assure you that disability rights have come a long way. At least partially prompted by the mass global backlash to the crimes committed against you. We have a documentary series intended to help catch you up properly on the past thirty years. After that, let’s see… ah, you have family who’d like to see you again. Or meet you, in a few cases.”
Tanya lit up. “Some of them are still alive?”
“They’ve left personal files with us for you to read. Would you like them in paper or digital?”
“Digital, please.”
“Just tap your phone here… Alright, we just need to update all your vaccinations and then you can head down to the documentary room.”
“Right, of course, I’ve missed three decades of flu jabs…”
“Don’t worry, it’s only one injection.” They smiled reassuringly. “And we’ll need to keep you for forty-eight hours, for safety, you understand. After that you can pick your housing and meet up with your family.”
“Pick my housing?”
“Oh, right - that’s just a thing you get, now. No need to worry about being homeless.”
“Whoa…”
“It’s actually a lot cheaper than leaving people on the street. And, you know, results in far less misery.”
Tanya marvelled “The future really is a different world.”
“I suppose? Um…” They gave an awkward cough. “Most of this was actually the case a decade after you were… but, er, I suppose that doesn’t matter from your perspective. Anyway! If you could roll up your sleeve…”

Prompt was “A future for us”.