Future Daze 3 - London 2076

Michael had rented a bedpipe on the outskirts of London.  He had paid the first 6 months rent with some money he had saved from his last job.  The bedpipe had a big enough bed and a big enough cupboard but he kept banging his head when he stood up after using the toilet.  Taking a shower required him to stand completely still.  The view from floor Q, which was 16 storeys high, was amazing.  The bedpipe, with its huge window, looked right out over the greenbelt.  Michael came down in the lift. 

 

He looked around for somewhere to eat.  Michael wasn't sure if the building he had entered was a cafe or a supermarket.  People were picking up items of food from the refrigerators, operating the self-service cash tills and putting food in the microwave ovens.
"Do you see those new flats they're building on top of the hill?" asked an old man.
"I had noticed some new flats being built," said Michael.  "I can see them out of my window."
"I tell you one thing, there'll be nowhere for anyone to pitch a tent.  All the caravans were brought here 16 years ago.  They're old.  They're starting to leak.  But instead of replacing them with new caravans, they're replacing them with blocks of flats 20 storeys high. The flats are intended for people with families but they're only the size of studio flats.  They don't contain kitchens and they don't contain living rooms.  The government will build self service cafeterias, lauderettes and libraries in buildings on the ground down below.  One and a half million unemployed people are expected to move to London because of this recession."

"I've just moved here from Sunderland," said Michael.  "What kind of building is this?  Is it a shop or a cafe?"
"It's a self service cafeteria.  You take the food from the fridges, take it to the self service cash tills, warm it up in the microwave oven and then sit down at the tables and eat it.  No one is employed here, except the guy who comes to stack the fridges every day.  People who live in the centre of London have proper jobs.  They spend £100 a week on take aways.  People who live here can't afford to.  I sell the Big Issue."
"When I lived with my uncle I used to do that.  I made £90 a week but the hours were long.  I used to sell about one magazine an hour."
"Go to a busy tube station in London and you could sell one every half hour.  The self-drive taxi will cost £5 to get there and back, but if you can sell 20 Big Issues in a day, that's not a problem.  My name's Norman."
"I'm Michael.  I've applied to do an apprenticeship in an old people's home."  Michael and Norman stood in front of one of the fridges together.  Michael picked up a small tub of spicy chicken and a packet of noodles.  Norman picked up a potato and a tin of beans.  They both paid for their things at the checkout.  Norman pulled the ring pull on the tin of beans and poured them into a disposable plastic dish.  He put his big, raw potato into the microwave oven and set it to 6 minutes.  Michael poured the noodles into his disposable plastic dish and added the spicey chicken pieces.  He set the timer on his microwave oven to 2 minutes.

 

The next morning, Michael arrived at the old people's home where he had applied to do the apprenticeship.  He had a suit and a tie and sat in front of a middle aged male manager who looked a bit rough.  Michael wondered if he was overdressed.
"£5 an hour for 30 hours a week," said the manager.  "£650 a month to look after the old people.  Is that OK?"
"Yes.  That's fine.  Aren't you going to ask me any questions about the job?"
"No.  We've done your police check and your medical.  That's good enough for me.  I used to be a supermarket manager.  Now I run a care home."
"They're not a tin of beans, they're an old person in bed and they're sick."
"What's the difference?" asked the manager.  "You're starting tomorrow.  Come here at 8 o' clock in the morning."  Michael returned to the care home at 8 o' clock the next day.  There was a staff meeting in the manager's office.
"Our early shift is 8 AM to 2 PM," said the manager.  "Late shift is 2 PM to 8 PM, night shift is 8 PM to 8 AM.  I've sent you all an email with this week's shifts on it."
"Is it possible to work overtime?" asked Michael.
"Not very often," said the manager.  "We only allow 4 staff to be on during the day and 2 staff at night.  You could work overtime to cover for someone who was sick or on holiday or doing a day's classroom based training.  As there are 20 staff in this care home, don't expect to work overtime more than three times a year."
"This a five year apprenticeship," said a young woman called Roxanne.  "How much training do we get?"
"You get one day of classroom based training every month.  There are 60 modules and it takes 5 years."
"And after that I'll be a qualified care assistant?" asked Roxanne.
"After that you'll qualify with a diploma and you'll be sacked.  All my staff are apprentices.  It's not against the law.  When the government introduced the new minimum wage, they allowed companies to employ people as apprentices for up to 5 years, as long as they're on a training course leading to a recognised qualification."  Michael looked at the timetable on his mobile phone.  He was working a late shift today (Tuesday) and an early shift on Wednesday.  He had a day off on Thursday and a night shift on Friday.  He had a day off on Saturday and was working a late shift on Sunday. 

 

Michael decided to disappear into London to do some shopping and return in the afternoon.  There was an old man sitting on a mobility scooter selling the Big Issue.
"Hello," said the old man, smiling.  "Had a good day?"
"I've had a very good day," said Michael.  "I'm starting a new job this afternoon."
"What do you do, then?"
"I'm working in a care home.  It's something I've always wanted to do."
"Great."
"I'll have a Big Issue."  Michael took out £3.50.
"They're £4 now.  They've got a new editor who used to work for the Sunday Mail Online.  It's a much better read.  I think you'll find it very controversial."
"Got to put up the price when you've got a new editorial team," said Michael.  "I used to sell the Big Issue myself.  Why do you still sell it?  Can't you retire?"
"I can claim Universal Credit instead of a state pension but I can only claim it on medical grounds.  Nothing to do with how old you are.  No such thing as an age of retirement.  I'm 81 but I'm the same as anyone else."
"Why don't you claim it on medical grounds?  You must have something wrong with you if you're on a mobility scooter."
"I lost my Universal Credit when I had an accident on my mobility scooter.  I was hit by a self drive taxi.  I pulled out from behind a lorry that was parked outside a shop.  I was too close to the taxi.  It braked but it couldn't stop.  I was lying on the ground, with the mobility scooter on its side, and all the shopping fell out of my shopping bags.  I was 10 miles from home.  The social services decided that if I was well enough to travel 10 miles on a mobility scooter and do my own shopping, I was well enough to need another medical.  I don't need any help with my mobility aids and I don't have any falls.  The social worker came to my flat and saw an independent pensioner living on their own, walking with sticks but walking well enough, doing their own shopping on a mobility scooter.  She even spent an afternoon with me in the self service cafeteria and the launderette.  Are you disabled, Mr. Jenkins?  You seem to be capable of doing an awful lot of things by yourself.  She put me down for Light Work.  That's what they call it, Light Work.  You won't get Universal Credit if you're over 80 unless you have a Home Help."
"That's terrible.  Why don't you appeal?"
"I'm better off selling the Big Issue.  People buy loads of magazines from an old man.  If you're young, they think you're a drug addict, don't buy the Big Issue off him, he's only selling it for money to get drugs.  They don't think that about an old man.  The secret of selling lots of magazines is to be really friendly."  A woman approached with a baby in a push chair.  "Hello. What's the baby called?"
"Sam."
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
"We haven't decided if Sam is a boy or a girl.  We believe in letting children decide that for themselves when they grow up.  Could I have a Big Issue?"  The old man handed her a Big Issue and took her money.
"I've sold 20 Big Issues this morning," he said.  "Now I'm going to have lunch, and then I'll be off home for my afternoon nap."

 

Michael arrived back at work to be met by a woman that he recognised from the meeting in the manager's office.
"I'm Roxanne," said the woman.  "My parents named me after a song they heard on Freeview."
"My name's Michael.  I know that song."
"I'm not a prostitute but I am pretty tough.  My parents wanted me to be as hard as nails, so they gave me a tough name.  You're on the ward with me this afternoon, Michael.  I've worked here for six months.  You'll be OK."  Roxanne looked at her mobile phone, where there was a list of patients and room numbers they were visiting that afternoon.  Michael looked at his mobile phone and found the same list.  Mr. Davidson's room number flashed on the mobile phone.  "Mr. Davidson must be pressing his buzzer," said Roxanne.  They went to his room and opened the door.
"Nurse, I need to go to the toilet."
"Have you got a bottle where you can reach it?" asked Michael, picking up a grey cardboard bottle and putting it on the table beside the bed.
"It's not one of those," said the old man.  Roxanne pressed some buttons on her mobile phone, the bedroom door opened and a wheelchair with a commode on it drove itself into the room. 
"Roxanne, just help me lift Mr. Davidson on to this commode," said Michael.
"Do what?"
"I'll put one arm under his knee and one arm under his elbow and you'll do the same thing."  Roxanne and Mr. Davidson were both laughing.  "I saw it on an old film," said Michael.
"Michael, how old was the film? It's what people did in the last century.  It's dangerous.  You can damage your back."  Roxanne pressed a few more buttons on her mobile phone.  A hoist, which looked like a lampstand made to stand on the floor, drove itself into the bedroom.  "Mr. Davidson, sit up as far as you can."  She took ahold of the straps on the mechanical arm, which was attached to the hoist, and fastened it under one of his shoulders.  "This is going to pull you up."  Roxanne pressed some buttons that were half way up the main body of the hoist that stood on the floor.  Like a robot, the mechanical arm rotated gently, lifting Mr. Davidson, spinning him around and causing him to stand up beside the commode.  He lowered his pyjama trousers with his free hand.  Roxanne pressed some more buttons on the hoist.  Mr. Davidson gave the impression of marching a few steps like a soldier, and then the machine banged him down on top of the commode.
"In Japan they've got proper androids that can pick the patients up out of bed and put them on the toilet all by themselves," said Michael.
"In Japan, they can probably afford them," said Roxanne.  "Robots cost a lot of money.  Care workers don't."
"I'm sure, one day, they'll start making really cheap robots in a part of Africa you've never heard of," Michael said.
Mr. Davidson smiled.
"I'd rather have you two nurses than an android, any day."
"Isn't that sweet," said Roxanne.  When Mr. Davidson had finished using the toilet, Roxanne used the robot arm to put him back to bed.

 

The mobile phone in Roxanne's pocket rang again.  She picked it up,  "Come with me," she said to Michael, and led him out of the room.  "A yellow warning means that somebody has wet the bed."  Roxanne pressed a few buttons on her mobile phone and a trolley carrying clean laundry came wooshing down the corridor towards them.  A hoist followed after it.  Roxanne and Michael opened the door and went into the patient's room.  "Good morning, Mr. Kobrak," said Roxanne.
"Morning, is it?" asked Mr. Kobrak.  "I'm sorry, Nurse.  It happens when I'm asleep.  I can't help it."
"That's fine," said Michael.  "Don't worry about it.  That's what we're here for."  Roxanne attached Mr. Kobrak to the robot arm, which helped him to march, like a soldier, out of the bed.  He stood beside the bed while Roxanne and Michael changed the covers.  Michael started folding the corners of the bed quilt.
"What are you doing?" asked Roxanne.
"That's the way they do it in the medical books."  Roxanne laughed.
"Michael, it's good to have some interest in medicine but one doesn't fold corners like that on a patient's bed, not nowadays.  I think I would stop buying old books from jumble sales."
"They're from the library in the city centre.  The library doesn't have the money to replace them.  They've got electronic books on their website as well, but they all have to be old enough to be out of copyright."  They finished changing the bed clothes and Roxanne put Mr. Kobrak back to bed.

They left the bedroom and walked along the corridor. 

 

Roxanne's phone rang again.
"Blue warning," she said.  "Blue warning seems someone's had a fall."  They arrived in another patient's room.  "Good morning, Mrs. White." said Roxanne.  "Before we move you, I'd like to have a good look at you and make sure that you haven't been injured."
"No, no, I'm all right."
"What happened to you?" asked Michael. 
"I was on my way to get a glass of water and my legs gave way."
"Do you have any medical problems that might cause you to fall?" asked Michael.
"I have something wrong with my mechanical heart.  I'm on the waiting list to have one of its valves replaced."
"Do you have any particular reason for wanting a glass of water in the middle of the night?"
"I'm diabetic.  I was feeling thirsty."
"Well done, Michael," said Roxanne.  "Good questions.  You're like the NHS website.  You'll be a good paramedic one day."  Roxanne looked at her mobile phone.  "Your blood sugar is not quite right, Mrs. White.  The doctor has been sent a notification and will come and do a medication review in the morning."  The door opened and a hoist wheeled itself into the room.  "Now, we'll put you back to bed."  Before they had finished putting Mrs. White into the bed, Roxanne's phone buzzed again.  She looked at it and panic.  "Michael, I'm leaving you with Mrs. White.  Make sure that she's comfortable.  This is code 911CFR.  Someone has had a heart attack."

 

Roxanne ran to another room where 4 nurses and a doctor were standing around a female patient's bed.
"Is she dead?" asked a young student.
"No, she's not," said the doctor.  "She's code CFR.  That means cardiac fibrillation.  You get a code 911CR on the phone if the patient is dead.  That's why Sammy is giving her cardiac resuscitation."  Sammy had give a few breaths into the patient's mouth and was now pressing up and down on her chest.
"How does the system know if the patient is dead?"
"The patient's iwatch will monitor their heart rythm.  It will indicate if their heart stops completely or if it goes into defibrillation.  Sammy won't have to give CPR for very long.   Here comes the defibrillator."  The defibrillator was a small green bag with helicopter rota blades that flew into the room and hovered over the bed.  The doctor grabbed the red and white leads from the green bag.  Sammy unbuttoned the patient's night shirt.  The doctor attached the electrodes.  "Stand clear," said the mechanical voice of the defibrillator.  A few seconds later it said, "Continue resuscitation."  Sammy gave two breaths in the patient's mouth and gave some more chest compressions.  "Stand clear," the machine said.  This time the patient started to cough.
"The electric shock has started her heart," said the doctor.  "Hello Mrs. Jones.  Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you.  Oh, I had a very strange dream."
"Your heart stopped for a few minutes."