I got a flyer today. I haven’t seen one of these in a while. A flyer I meant. Not what was written on it. No sir. Ever since Augmented Reality made the cell phone obsolete, printed paper just wasn’t a thing you used these days. But here it was, printed in digital CMYK eco-safe toner. It made the message clear, even in those more often times I had my AR module off. In the stark white coldness of my house. I could still see it. In black and red.
The only colour we saw in the world today was either beamed directly into our neural interface or that of the natural world around us. Unless you enhanced it of course. Green grass became purple, and the sky could be tinted aquamarine green. That kind of thing. But if you wanted, butterflies, dogs and all kinds of trees could all look normal. That’s the setting I had on by default. The natural world. No filter. Except for a boost of contrast and perpetually blue skies, who wouldn’t? You’d be mad not to.
Mail usually came as data packets direct to the stem. From the moment you woke up to the moment you closed your eyes. A nightmare you would think, but not if you put it on silent and let our limited Artificial Intelligence deal with it. No good for an obsessive-compulsive like myself. No box or log or file or data stream would fly by without me seeing it. No sir.
If you wanted tactile, you could have it. Empty slates that digitally resize and project augmented images directly into your ocular nerve. And you were tricked into holding whatever you were programmed to with chemically induced synapses to the oblongata. Some real clever marketing geniuses came up with a couple of real stinkers. A snake in the mail that looked and felt like one? Right in your hands? They say they’re not slimy but how could it not be? No sir, not for me. They didn’t get me on that one.
The flyer though, they got me on that. No avoiding that. No sir.
It was stuck in my door as I came home from work tonight. Rows upon rows made a kaleidoscope of infinite fear down the hallway. No missing it. No sir. I didn’t dare open the door at first. For fear of it falling, sparking and igniting as it landed on the floor.

Somehow.

Decision made. I didn’t want to be the cause of this did I? No one saw. I clutched at it, and quickly took it inside. Was I the first? Out of my identical affordable home on my identical affordable hallway? Ever since the housing crisis of 29 and then the crash in 32 and the other housing crisis after that. You know the deal. Well, here I was after they tore it all down and housed us all in these. ‘Affordable Housing’ they call it. ‘My Worst Nightmare’ is what I call it. With the data streams on it looked however you wanted it to of course. Most didn’t care. But turn them off and you’re left with a stark white icy canvas. The walls, the floors, the fridge, the chairs. White as virgin snow.
I slapped the flyer down onto the kitchen table, front side down. It gleamed. Backlit by the eclipsed light. My eyes darted to the small print on the very bottom like they always did when I read anything. Formal or not. 6pt Helvetica Italic I think. Typefaces are my thing.

In accordance with the AI Human Empathy and Employment Act of 2034. This flyer was designed, printed and produced by real humans.*
*Distributed by A.I.-controlled Mail drones.

Read the small print first. They won’t get me. No sir.
Three simple, thick black key-lined pictograms were above the small text. Numbered individually and immaculately illustrated by a human hand. On a computer of course, but with no apparent A.I. help. A rule created by A.I. is no rule at all. Isn’t that what they say? Not sure who, but it wasn’t me. No sir.
The last picture was of a family looking up towards the bright sun, holding hands. Eyes closed, thin-lipped smiles on their faces. A stark contrast to the one above. This illustration showed the same family taking shelter in the corner of their home. Huddled in darkened fright together. And the image above that. Number one. A huge mushroom cloud bursting above an orange city below. I fixated on the images, examining every human-created detail. Written below them a message continued.

PLEASE DO NOT:
Panic
Overreact
Steal
Loot
Murder
Harm
Sexually Assault

An event does not mean the end of civilization.

It continued in white out of black.

Humankind will need to live on. Love your neighbour. If you have more, give more. If you need help, ask. If you can give, give. Civilization is your responsibility and your fellow humanity’s. Work together in harmony and help one another. Act in no violence. Your local governing authority will not be able to assist in any foreseeable future. Humankind will fail with complacency. Please adhere to the above guidelines at all costs.

That was all in bold. Helvetica bold. 10pt? No 10.5. Crafty. They won’t catch me. Must be important if it’s in bold. I won’t forget that. No sir.

If A.I. told a human to do something? Isn’t the A.I. still doing it?

More bold text.

Take shelter in the southeastern corner of your affordable homestead. If your dwelling has been assigned basement access, reside here in the same location. Your affordable home has been reinforced to withstand most impacts.

Reassuring.
It was also explained to gather water and bedclothes and not to emerge for two weeks after the initial detonation.
Two weeks? I won’t get hungry, not me, no sir.

Huddle in a corner? With who? Myself, that’s who. Who’s on first? Me, I’m on first. Who?

Abbott and Costello was just about the only thing I logged on to watch anymore. It reminds me of a simpler, better time.

Better?

I liked the black and white shows. Anything made after 34 wasn’t made by people anymore anyway. Who’d want to watch that? Regurgitated entertainment on a loop cycle. Not me. No sir. Not me.
Abruptly, and with no warning the data stream connected. Invading my privacy. Luminous white flashed to bright orange-coloured banners that swept past and lined my view.

AMBER ALERT!

128pt Futura Bold scrolled around the room. Warnings and sirens intruded my head.

Get to the basement, and huddle in the corner. With who? With me? That’s who.

Shattered textile pad. In my hands. A burst of electricity after force. Snapped over the knee. Broken cold opaque and sharp glass against whiter still skin. Pressure on my neck. I push harder and harder to break the seal. Break the data stream.
The flyer on the kitchen counter. Staring at me, face side up now. Red out of black. 18pt Helvetica Extra Bold Condensed.

IN THE CASE OF A NUCLEAR EVENT

Pressure released, warm copper dripping. A miasma of black danced in my vision. Interference shattered my view and cleared with a blink.

THIS IS A TEST

32pt Futura Bold. In Pantone 485 Red Scrolled around my head now.
A test?

THIS IS A TEST

The brilliance of the room was replaced with static.
A test? Well, I didn’t know that. No sir.
No sir. I didn’t know that.