A zombie in the 23rd century (completed 11/11)

Fake blondes even in soup

A ZOMBIE IN THE 23RD CENTURY

Capítulo 8: Fake blondes even in soup

I was surprised with Hailey's choice of clothes to go out and meet her friends. When she explained to me why she decided to go out practically naked, I learned of another radical change in this new era.

In the 20th century, in the 1960s, it was thought that the future of fashion would have a carefree tone, but the way of dressing became more serious.

In the 23rd century, the dress code is extremist: for work or formal matters, you dress as if you had an audience with the Queen of England; the other tendency is to dress almost nothing, as if you were working in an adult nightclub.

There is no longer a middle ground in terms of fashion. The only exception are the zombies, this because it would look dull to spend on fine clothing for them and informal clothing would not protect them with the tendency for zombies to crash into walls or scratch against them. The clothing for ordinary urban men of the 20th century is intended for people with renewed rights, aka. friends.

"Remember not to walk too fast or too coordinated," Hailey advised me with some concern.

"Yes, Mom" I answered with a sneer when I realized something.

"Hey Hailey, is that a tattoo? I didn't see you have that thing yesterday."

"This?" said my friend as she felt the colorful tattoo of a cat made up of lilac flowers covering both her snowy buttocks, "it's a smart nano pigment tattoo, look."

The figure of the cat seemed to come to life and moved down Hailey's back to a ball and chain around her bellybutton.

"God."

"I can also make it go away. You want to see?"

"No, it's not necessary," I said, as the tattoo concealed the almost nakedness of the torso.

The cat looked at me and after giving a huge yawn, he took up a sleeping position on my friend's flat stomach again, who was smiling amused at the sight of the surprised look on my face.

After I fixed my face, we both went to where we were supposed to meet the members of Hailey's protest group.

We took longer than expected because I was supposed to walk slowly like a zombie, but in the end we arrived at a square where a small group of three boys and a girl were waiting for us.

The compact group shared the same meager amount of clothing as my friend. One of the boys was very tall (at least one ninety and of robust build), while the others were of normal height as well as the girl who had a big smile. All of them had colour-treated hair in various colours.

Hailey made the introductions and I became known as Vladimir, the friend.

These guys are very sensitive, they started to cry when they saw me holding a broom and how clumsily moved it trying to sweep the floor in front of a sandwich shop made with that device Laura.

"Poor thing, look how it sweeps. That's it, buddy, try hard, you can do it," said the big boy whose name was Timy. The group big boy.

"With a bit of practice sure he could sweep up to be hired," said Tomas, who was a bit thin.

"We have to think of a business where they can employ him, even if they don't pay him the minimum wage," Timothy said this time, after blowing his nose, because he was so moved.

"Maybe if I tell my mother, he might be employed at the restaurant after this one closes," Miranda suggested, wiping away the tears.

Hailey was delighted and excited to talk to her friends about finding me a paid job to show the government that friends (zombies) could work.

More than being annoyed by the fact that my friend used me for her anti-government purposes, I was concerned about her friends finding out the truth. As my mother used to tell me: lies have short legs.

There was something strange that I noticed when I was in the square, wherever I looked, I only saw blondes around. I also didn't see people of other racial descent like Afro-descendants or Asians or whatever... Everywhere blonde hair and blue eyes.

When Hailey explained the reason, I almost did it in my pants because of the shock.

By this time, the 23rd century, genetic manipulation had begun. First, the aim of this would have been to seek a cure for genetic diseases such as autism, the cause of which was unknown and whose percentages increased as the years went by.

Second, which is the frightening aspect of this, it involved parents asking for "children à la carte". With genetic manipulation, parents could decide the color of hair, eyes, skin pigmentation and others.

It is not necessary to tell you that in the middle of the 20th century, it was Western culture (read here North America) that conquered the world. And you know... bad taste is popular.

All the families decided that their offspring should have blond hair, white skin and blue eyes... all the families.

By this time, almost the entire world population followed this same pattern of outward appearance, and when I mean the entire world population, I mean that.

"My friends and I also have blond hair and blue eyes," Hailey said to me, her face intrigued by my reaction. "We dye our hair and change the color of our eyes with nano machines, something similar to the tattoo I wear."

I took a couple of steps back so I fell on my ass on the floor. My heart was beating fast and the only thing I could see was Hailey's face, which already showed concern for my reaction.

CONTINUARÁ...