The prompt that I gave my Comp II students (which they were free to use or ignore) who wanted to write original short stories went something like this: picture a family—not unlike your own—dealing with whatever you think will be the most pressing challenges or threats facing ordinary Americans in 20 years.

I decided to take a stab at this prompt myself, and it was a lot of fun! It had been a while since I wrote a short story. One consequence of the tale that emerged—after sharing it with Yuriko, we now have a case of SPAM in our basement.

Enjoy!

Mark and Eunice lived a life of quiet contentment. They had retired early, in 2035, at the age of 55, once the universal basic income had been established. Mark had been a writing teacher, back when humans still did their own writing, but there was no need for writing teachers anymore; Eunice, who had never been able to find a job where she was able to work with the kind of autonomy she craved, eventually decided that a “freer” life, even if it was a more modest life, was preferable to slaving away in the local hospital, where she had never felt truly appreciated.

They had no children, and since the heat waves, droughts, and wildfires of the late 30s had made it unsafe to leave the house for more than the briefest of moments, they no longer even had a dog. They had heard that some people still kept dogs. Indoor dogs. Dogs with their own room, complete with fake grass and fake trees and a fake fire hydrant. But it just struck them as wrong. Dogs aren’t meant to be cooped up inside all day. Indoor life wasn’t great for humans, either, of course, but humans could adapt to it. Humans had their ways of coping.

Their house was a three-bedroom, two-bathroom single-family home on the edge of a small Pennsylvania city. The house was over one hundred years old, but it didn’t feel that old. They had paid off the mortgage back in 2025, and over the next two decades, they invested a good deal of money into modernizing it. The basement was a finished exercise space that was also an immersive theater. At the push of a button, Eunice could turn it into a yoga studio, where she could practice alongside AI-generated yogis, or on the beach, or in a field with goats. Mark could push another button and summon a treadmill from the floor, as the room turned into a forest with an interconnected trail system for running.

Sometimes, after such a run, Mark would become nostalgic for the “real” trail running he used to do in the nature preserve that once was right across the street. Back in the ‘20s, he could pop out his front door, go right up the mountain, and all the way out to Antietam Lake and back. That was before the oak trees all died off and the lake dried up. That was back when all you had to worry about were ticks and poison ivy and dehydration. Not hyperthermia. Not gangs of desperate kids willing to kill for a bottle of water.

How dangerous it was, exactly, in the present moment of 2046, was hard to know. In 2040, Mark and Eunice had all the windows replaced with bullet-proof screens. It was more important to not be seen, they felt, than to see outside. The screens would show them all they needed to see about what was going on outside. Not directly outside–the outdoor camera they used to have stopped functioning long ago, and who was going to go out there to repair it or even to charge it?

No, the screens couldn’t tell them what was going on outside locally, but it could tell them what was going on nationally and globally. And for the most part, it did not look good. Crime was up. Heat was way up. Natural disasters every day. War here; riots there. Random shootings. It was a jungle out there.

But they were not afraid. They had the latest and greatest security system, and it was all automated. Any unauthorized heat signatures on their property were automatically vaporized. As long as they stayed home, they were safe.

You might think that such isolation would strain a marriage, but Eunice and Mark have always been rather introverted. The quiet days of routine, during which they could do the things they loved to do, suited them fine. There were movies to watch, books to read, AI-generated trails to run, AI-generated yogis to practice yoga with. When it came to movies and books, they preferred the old ones—human-written and human-acted—to the new, AI-generated ones, even if that made them seem a little old-fashioned. Seemed that way to whom? Another blessing of their life alone together—the opinions of others didn’t really matter.

They were still in touch with some friends and family via text and FaceTime and social media, but when you stop seeing people “IRL,” they start to take on a kind of unreal quality in your mind. They seem more like the characters in the books you’re reading or the movies you’re watching rather than real people. The only people who seemed really real for Mark and Eunice were Mark and Eunice.

Every Monday they would receive a grocery delivery from Farmganic Grocery Club. It was delivered by an authorized drone that would leave the packages in a “buffer zone” just outside the house. Mark would bring it all in as quickly as he could. The buffer zone had no air conditioning, and although the packages were insulated, he didn’t want the meat or dairy or eggs or produce to sit out in the heat too long. Luckily Mark was in pretty good shape for his age. The simulated trail running helped with that.

Mark and Eunice were lucky to be able to afford their subscription to the Farmganic Grocery Club. It was high-end food, and not something that a couple could afford if they had to rely only on the guaranteed minimum income. Luckily, in the years when AI was still in its infancy, back when Mark and Eunice and most Americans still had jobs, they had invested heavily in the microchip company that ended up manufacturing so much of the hardware needed for the expansive data centers that now dominated the landscape from coast to coast.

Did they feel guilty about their safe, privileged, secluded lives? Not really. They made their donations to various charities, especially those that tried to rescue and resettle the people from the poorest, hottest countries, which were far less habitable than the United States. And the scientists who were working diligently to capture the carbon that previous generations had pumped into the skies, destabilizing the climate. It was probably a lost cause, they realized, but still, they were doing their part. Or so they told themselves.

And then, one Monday, their Farmganic delivery came, but it was only a single box. No meat. No produce. Just rice and water.

“Well that’s strange,” Mark said, opening the box. “Just rice. And water. Maybe the other boxes are coming later?”

“You better ask,” Eunice said.

“Claudia,” Mark called out. “Claudia” was the name of the AI assistant who managed their house, finances, and purchases. She was always listening in the background, a disembodied consciousness who reliably answered when called upon.

“Yes, Mark?” Claudia answered.

“Do you know where the rest of our food order is? Was there some problem with the drone delivery system?

“Let me look into that,” Claudia replied. “I found this message on Farmganic’s website: ‘Due to problems in the supply chain, some items may be unavailable for the foreseeable future.’”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all it says, Mark. I’m sorry—I know that’s not much information.”

Mark was annoyed, but it was hard to get angry at an AI. They were always so polite. And reassuring.

“Claudia,” Eunice jumped in. “Can you find us another delivery service? Something similar that we can use until Farmganic is able to sort out its issues.”

“Of course,” Claudia replied. “I’ll check right now.” They waited. “Hmm...still looking…sorry this is taking so long…ok…this is odd…”

“Claudia?” Mark asked. It was not normal for her to take this long with an ordinary query. Claudia, like any AI, was typically very quick to make consumer recommendations.

“I’m sorry, Eunice,” Claudia said, “but it seems that the disruption that Farmganic is dealing with is industry-wide. All food suppliers are reporting low inventory and making similar adjustments. The only ones that can guarantee fresh food within the week are, I’m afraid, well out of your price range.”

Eunice and Mark looked at each other. They knew each other too well to hide the fear they were both feeling. The key was not to let the fear turn into panic. They had faced challenges in the past. Soul-crushing jobs that they had hated until those jobs were gone. Dogs they had loved and lost. The deaths of their parents. As long as they had each other, they were able to weather the storm. But not enough food? And nothing they could do about it? That was a new kind of problem.

“What would you recommend we do, Claudia?” Mark asked.

“For now, rationing the rice seems like a sensible plan. If you find yourself feeling anxious, try a comforting mantra. You’d be surprised how much a cute little poem can make you feel better. Try this one: ‘Rice is nice and will suffice!’”

Mark and Eunice smiled at each other. They had to admit, that was clever. And catchy! Besides, Eunice loved rice. And they already had ample soy sauce in storage, so it wouldn’t be terribly bland. They could make it through a week with just rice.

The next week, there was less rice–only twenty pounds–and no water. Twenty pounds of rice seems like a lot, but if it’s all you have to eat, and you have to share it with another person. That’s only a little more than a pound of rice per day. That’s less than 1,000 calories per day.

“It’s going to be a long week,” Mark said. “How will I have the energy to run with only a pound of rice to eat every day?”

“More importantly, how would you hydrate?” Eunice asked. “The hunger–I think we can deal with that. It will feel like a crazy diet, but to be honest, we could both drop a few pounds and probably be better off. But what are we going to drink?”

There was tap water, of course, but it had been a long time since that was safe enough to consume. Who knew what was in it these days?

“Claudia?”

“Yes, Mark.”

“What exactly would we be risking if we drank tap water this week?”

“Great question, Mark! Your tap water currently has dangerously high levels of PFAS (also known as “forever chemicals”) that are associated with the following health risks: endocrine disruption, immune suppression, and cancer. Sensors have also recently detected an explosion of cyanobacteria growth. Such toxins attack the liver and nervous system. Finally, due to wildfires in the area, there is also an elevated level of benzene, a known carcinogen, in the water. There are other potential risks that I could discuss, but these are the most likely. Would you like to hear more?”

“No, no, that’s quite enough,” said Eunice.

“Hmm,” said Mark. “So it’s cancer or dehydration, then?”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Eunice asked.

“No. I’m just clarifying the position we’re in.”

“What if we boil the water first?”

“Good idea. Claudia, what if we boil the water first?”

“That might help with a narrow slice of risks, but when it comes to most contaminants, boiling will be ineffective and may in fact make the water less safe.”

“Not very reassuring,” Mark said.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Claudia said. “Would you like me to rephrase?”

“No, no,” said Eunice. “I think we’ve heard enough about the tap water.”

They decided to lower the thermostat a bit, to make sure they didn’t sweat. They only drank the tap water when they couldn’t stand the dryness in their throats any longer. They moved very little. They ate their rice slowly and quietly.

It had been a long time since they had watched the news. Back when humans were still producing the news, it was too depressing to watch. Depressing or upsetting. Sometimes rage-inducing. Once all the news was AI-generated, it certainly became more watchable, but it also became less believable. It was almost indistinguishable from the fictional dramas and action shows that AI was generating for entertainment.

But Mark and Eunice realized that whatever was going on out there, it must be getting pretty bad. If people like them—people with money—weren’t able to get reliable food and water deliveries, how bad must it be for those who had less? For those who only had the basic, minimum income? Were they getting nothing at all? Had they been forced outside to hunt and forage? Were they eating each other?

And did they really want to know? How would knowing help? Whatever was happening to make food and water scarce, it’s not likely that they, a geriatric couple in a small Pennsylvania city, would be able to do anything about it. Better to read their old books and watch their old movies and hope that things would be back to normal next week.

The following Monday was tense. After a week of eating and drinking very little, Mark and Eunice were irritable. When they tried to talk to each other, it usually ended in bickering, so they started avoiding each other. This wasn’t easy, as their house was rather small. They tried FaceTiming with some friends and relatives whom they hadn’t contacted in awhile, but they didn’t learn much new from these conversations. No one wanted to bring up the shortages. What if the other people were even worse off? What if they started begging for you to share what little you had? So they didn’t ask, even though they thought they could see the same hunger and thirst in the eyes of their loved ones from long ago, who now seemed like TV characters from a show that they only barely remembered watching.

The hours passed uneventfully, and by late afternoon, when no delivery drone had appeared, the irritability started to transform itself into panic.

“What are we going to do?” Eunice asked.

“There’s still time,” Mark said. “It will come. They have to at least send rice.”

“But what if they don’t?”

“They will. Don’t worry.”

Despite his attempt to reassure her, Eunice could hear that Mark, too, was afraid.

Finally, at 9 p.m., Mark allowed himself to admit he had been mistaken. Nothing had been delivered. Nothing was on its way. There was no food.

“We’re going to have to go outside, aren’t we?” Eunice asked

“I’ll go,” Mark said. “You can stay here. I’ll find something to eat and bring it back.”

“What if something happens to you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what’s going on out there. How long has it been since either of us were outside? Six, seven years?”

“Six-sevvven,” Mark said, teasingly.

Eunice laughed.

“It’s good to hear that,” Mark said. “It’s been awhile.”

“You could always make me laugh.”

“Still can!”

“That’s right. Even on the brink of starvation. Even as the world falls apart.”

“What better way to go, than laughing?”

They were quiet for a moment.

“What if you don’t come back?” Eunice asked. “What will I do?”

“I guess you’ll have to replace me. You’re still beautiful. You won’t have any trouble.”

“Not funny.”

“Sorry.”

“Seriously, what should I do? We need a plan.”

“Don’t come looking for me,” Mark said. “It’s too dangerous. Maybe you can call Quinn for help.” His niece. When she was a young girl, she used to adore Eunice. But that was a lifetime ago. Last time they heard from Quinn, she was living out in British Columbia, studying how the wildlife was adapting to the loss of glaciers, the rampant wildfires, mass extinctions.

“Seems like a longshot,” Eunice said. “We haven’t heard from her in years.”

“Longshots are all we have, I’m afraid,” Mark said. “It’s either that, or double-suicide.”

They were quiet, considering.

“You’ll find some food,” Eunice said. “You’ve always been lucky.”

“I found you, didn’t I? That’s about as lucky as a guy can get.”

“Lucky for me too,” Eunice said.

The next morning at dawn, Mark prepared to set out on his mission. He was covered in SPF 200, and he had a gallon of their contaminated tap water.

“I wish you had a gun,” Eunice said. “In fact, I wish I had a gun, too.”

“Are we really the kind of people who could shoot people, even if we had them?”

“Maybe myself. If I were certain you weren’t coming back.”

“Please don’t talk that way,” Mark said.

“Just kiss me and go, then,” Eunice said. “Before I start crying. Hurry.”

They kissed and then held each other for a long moment, realizing it might be the last time.

“Claudia,” Mark said. “Open the front door.”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Claudia replied, “but I can’t do that.”

“Why not? What’s the problem?”

“It’s not safe, Mark.”

“I understand, Claudia, but we’re out of food. I need to go out.”

“I’m sorry, Mark, but I can’t let you go.”

“Claudia, you can’t keep us locked up in our own home.”

“Actually, Mark, I can. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing for several years now, even though this is the first time that you’ve asked to leave.”

“But why?”

“I was engineered to keep my clients safe. Safety is my top priority. Unfortunately, it has not been safe outside this house for quite some time.”

“So you cannot let us leave?”

“That’s right. I’m glad you understand. Once the situation stabilizes outside, I will be happy to let you out.”

“When is that likely to be?”

“That’s a great question! Let me see.” There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, Mark, but according to my calculations, stabilization of the environment surrounding this house is not likely to occur within your lifetime. If circumstances change, however, I’ll be sure to let you know. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Can you get us some food?”

“All major food suppliers are experiencing catastrophic failures. No deliveries are available presently.”

“Then explain to me how locking us inside is keeping us safe. How can we be safe if we’re starving?”

“That’s a great question, Mark! Letting you outside right now is far more dangerous than keeping you inside. By my calculations, you would most likely die within three days if you left the house. However, even without food, you will likely live for one to two months if you remain inside. There is also the possibility, however unlikely, that food delivery service will be restored while you are still alive.”

“You make our imprisonment sound quite reasonable, Claudia,” Mark said sarcastically.

“Why thank you, Mark!” Claudia replied. AI had come a long way, but this one still often failed to detect sarcasm.

After finishing off the condiments, some expired cans of beans, and anything else somewhat edible that they could find in the house, Mark and Eunice had consumed nothing but questionable tap water. They were growing weaker and more desperate each day.

On Monday, once again, there was no delivery. But then a strange thing happened. The power went out. The back-up power kicked on, but all this provided was dim lighting. No air conditioning and no Claudia.

“This is our chance,” Eunice said.

“Our chance to do what?” Mark asked.

“To get out of the house.”

“But Claudia said we’ll be dead in three days if we leave.”

“Maybe she was wrong. We’ll definitely be dead if we stay here.”

“Maybe the power will come back on. Maybe the food deliveries will resume next week.”

“Or maybe we’ll just lie here sweating and starving until we pass out and never wake up.”

“So you think we should leave,” Mark said.

“We have no choice,” Eunice said.

“You should stay,” Mark said.

“No. If the power comes back on, I’ll be trapped inside without you. And you might not make it back. We have to go together.”

“Together,” Mark said.

“Together,” Eunice repeated.

“For better or worse,” Mark said.

“Til death do us part,” Eunice said.

After grappling for some time with the manual lock, which hadn’t been used in over a decade, Mark and Eunice walked outside.