The year is 2030.
“Ugh… I stayed up too late last night.”
The thought is a low grumble in his mind as Carter peels himself from his bed.
The first light of dawn has yet to break, leaving his room steeped in the cool, blue-gray shadows of early morning. He shuffles out of his bedsheets and sits on the edge of the mattress, his body a heavy, unwilling weight.
Scrubing at his eyes, trying to wipe away the lingering grit of a restless sleep.
Like most people his age, the first instinct is a conditioned reflex. Carter reaches for his smartphone on the nightstand. The screen flares to life, a stark white glare in the dim room, assaulting his tired eyes.
Thirteen unimportant notifications clutter the screen. Marketing emails promise deals he doesn’t want. A group chat with his two closest friends, Sam and Leo, shows a long scroll of memes they sent back and forth while he was asleep.
He dismisses them all with a swipe of his thumb. Until his eyes land on a single notification from “Binder,” the world’s largest dating app.
The app’s loading screen flashes a smug, confident tagline: Make your first swipe your last swipe.
Pfft, yeah, right, Carter thinks, a cynical curl to his lips. “If that was true, you wouldn’t be making millions.” He taps open a conversation from the night before, a brief exchange with a woman that has ended exactly as he expected: with his last message sitting there, inert and unanswered. Left on read.
“Yeah, figured. Probably a bot anyway.”
He tosses the phone onto his bed. These apps are a complete waste of time.
He stands, stretching his body until his joints pop in protest. The frame of his body lean and fit, a product of discipline he applies to his physical health but nowhere else.
At twenty-five, he has clear brown skin, sharp green eyes, and a low buzz cut that highlights the youthful angles of his face.
The digital clock on his nightstand reads 5:00 AM. The house is a tomb of silence; his parents are still asleep. Carter pulls on his running clothes—a pair of worn gray joggers and a black hoodie—and grabs his phone and keys.
Moving with a practiced quiet. Socked feet making no sound on the stairs. Downstairs, he locks the front door behind him, slips in his earbuds, and starts the timer on his phone.
Carter was on the porch for a full thirty seconds, the cool morning air a shock against his skin. Staring at the dark, empty street, contemplating returning to the warm, soft pull of his bed.
“Damn, I don’t feel like it today.”
Just as he reaches for the door handle to retreat, he stops. Hands hovering in the air.
Carter shakes his head, a flicker of resolve cutting through the fatigue.
“No. I have to do it. Let’s just get it over with.”
Then the run begins. Each step of his feet pound a steady rhythm on the asphalt, a lonely metronome in the quiet suburbs of Southern California. Passing the dark shapes of parked cars and the neat, sleeping houses of his neighborhood. The calm breeze of the early morning does little to cool the frustration that burns in his chest.
The time is now 6:29. A body slick with sweat, lungs burning after an intense run.
“Ten miles in ninety minutes.
“Ten miles in ninety minutes. Not bad, but definitely slower.” He heads inside to shower. The hot water feels invigorating.
Dressed for work, Carter reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It buzzes. Another message on Binder. A reply from “Jane.”
“Haha, thanks. If you want to see my pictures, click this link…”
“Knew it. Bot.” A familiar wave of hilarious disappointment washes over him. “What moron falls for that? Someone must, though. Why else keep trying?” He shoves the phone in his pocket and heads downstairs.
Downstairs, the smell of pancakes and sausage fills the air. Yasmin, stands at the stove, wearing a light cardigan over her blouse. Her curly brown hair, streaked with gray, frames freckles on her nose and cheeks. She turns as he enters, a warm smile spreading across her face.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, Carter. I made some breakfast. Eat something before work.”
The table is like it always was: a stack of pancakes, a platter of eggs and sausage, green grapes, and orange juice. Carter fills his plate and eats, the food a welcome comfort.
“I don’t know how you eat like that and stay in shape,” Yasmin says, taking a seat across from him. “I couldn’t.”
“I work out every day,” he replies between bites. “Sometimes twice.”
“That’s too much,” she says, shaking her head. “How’s work?”
“Fine. Same old.”
“You know, your father and I are proud of you. Your job is hard, and you help people.”
“Mom, I’m an EMT. I didn’t win a Nobel Prize.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she insists. “Plenty of people don’t go to school and are just fine. You’re twenty-five, you can always go back. Actually, I had a co-worker who went back at forty, now she’s a doctor.”
“Thanks, I’ll think about it. I like my job, but I doubt I’ll do EMS forever.”
“Don’t stress it, honey. You’re young. No one really has it figured out, especially at your age.”
“I know I’m young,” Carter says. The words taste like ash. “But I feel like an old man. Life is passing me by. Sam and Leo have it figured out.”
“Haha, old man? That’s a stretch. You aren’t Sam or Leo, honey. You’re Carter Cross. Don’t keep up with anyone else. They’d agree with me.”
“Yeah, I know they would,” he says, a ghost of a smile. “They’re the best guys on Earth.”
Carter finishes his breakfast, washes his plate, and grabs his work bag. The garage door is next to the kitchen.
“Bye, Mom. Heading out.”
“Have a good day, honey.”
He steps into the garage. Cam, his adoptive father, is hunched over the engine of a 1967 Ford Mustang. The car is a work of art, its lines from another time. At fifty-five, Cam is even more fit than Carter. A former Marine Sergeant, his disciplined life shows in his neat appearance and his kind, steady eyes. It’s hard to imagine this man yelling at soldiers.
“Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, Carter.”
“How was the workout?” Cam asks, not looking up from his work.
“Not bad. I almost walked back inside. Didn’t feel like running today.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“Guess so.”
“That’s what makes winners,” Cam says, looking up. His eyes smile. “I added oil and brake fluid to your bike. It was low.”
“Oh, thanks. Was going to get to that soon.”
Carter looks around the large garage. His mother’s Subaru Outback sits next to his father’s new Cadillac. His own ride, a 1200cc black chopper, is near the door, gleaming. A testament to his father’s mechanical skill.
“Also, I heard you and your mother talking,” Cam says, his voice serious. “Don’t pressure yourself. No one has it figured out. We’re both proud of you. You’re disciplined, hard-working, and good-hearted. Men like you don’t stay down. You can stay here as long as you need to.”
“I know, Dad, thank you. I need to get to work before traffic hits.”
“Okay, make it a good one.”
“You too.”
Carter grabs his helmet from a metal cabinet. A light blue EMT shirt is visible under his black leather jacket. Gloves on, he tightens his boots, and secures his backpack. The engine roars to life, filling the garage with a deep rumble. Carter rides as the sun climbs over the horizon, painting the sky yellow and orange with hints of red. The full moon from the night is a pale ghost, still visible as the sun claims the day.
California weather is the best like this.
At the station, heclocks in, and heads to the ambulance bay. 2 of Carters co-workers are there, Jasmine and Diego. They’re working on maintenance and restocking supplies. Jasmine, twenty-seven, is African American woman with light brown skin. Her natural afro is pulled back into a puffy bun. Diego, twenty-nine, is a tall Mexican American with slicked-back hair. He has that charismatic, stud-like vibe. They’re always flirting, creating a bubble around themselves Carter feels he’s intruding on.
“Hey, what’s up, man!” Diego greets him with a wide grin.
“Sup, Diego,” Carter replies, nodding.
“Morning, Carter!” Jasmine says, her voice cheerful.
“Good morning, Jasmine.”
Diego gestures with a wrench. “Hey Carter, can you hold this for a second? Need to get tools from the shed.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Carter takes Diego’s place, holding a loose panel steady. Diego springs up and heads off. Jasmine turns to him, her expression curious.
“Sooo? Did you do anything fun this weekend?” she asks.
“Nah, not really.”
“Hmm, really?”
“Yeah, I’m more of a homebody. Don’t like going out much.”
“What about dates? Seeing anyone? You seem like you’d do well.”
“Nah, no dates.”
“But it’s funny you ask. Everyone tells me that, but it’s not my luck.”
“It will be,” she says with a knowing smile. “What about you? Do anything fun?”
“Yeah, actually. Diego’s family had a cookout. He asked if I wanted to come. I thought, why not? The boss was there. Didn’t expect him to show up at all.”
“I was surprised you didn’t show up; Diego likes you a lot.”
Diego didn’t even ask me, Carter thinks, a familiar, cold knot tightening in his stomach. I mean… we’re just co-workers. But he invited our douchy boss, Thomas? That’s weird.
Diego returns from the shed and finishes the repair. “Thanks, man, you’re a life-saver.”
“No problem.”
Jasmine turns on Diego. “Hey, did you forget to invite Carter to the cookout?”
Diego looks uncomfortable. He looks away, wanting to change the subject. “Ohhh, uhhh… Yeah! Pretty sure I sent a text. Figured you didn’t get it or were busy or something.”
It’s a lie, but Carter keeps his face neutral.
He probably didn’t want me there. Who cares. he thinks.
“No worries, man, it’s not a big deal,” Carter replies, his voice even.
“You sure? My family’s kind of wild. I can let you know when we do it again.”
“It’s cool. Told Jasmine I’m a chill-at-home guy anyway.”
Footsteps echo from the hall. An older man appears. His presence commands the space. It’s Thomas Stewart, the forty-nine-year-old Captain of Operations. He has the muscular build of a strongman, softened by a layer of fat. A thick neck, dense brown beard, and a pissed-off expression.
“Jasmine, Diego, Carter! Get over here.”
Oh, God, what is it now? Carter thinks.
“Am I in trouble for the leak?” Diego asks nervously. “Fixing it right now.”
“No, that’s not it,” Thomas grunts. “It’s about the promotion to Field Supervisor. Higher-ups chose Jasmine. Congrats, Jasmine.”
Jasmine, Carter, and a few others applied. For Carter, it was a chance to feel like his life was going somewhere, not just drifting in a job he didn’t love.
“Wow… Thank you. But I’m surprised,” Jasmine says.
“Really, why’s that?” Thomas replies.
“Honestly, didn’t think I’d get it. Thought Carter would’ve. He’s honestly the best we have. Other teams know it.”
“Yeah, this guy helped me more than I can count, haha,” Diego adds.
Thomas turns his gaze to Carter. “Well… sorry, Carter. Wasn’t my decision. Not much I could do about it.”
True, Carter thinks. But he’d be asked. He remembers how hard Thomas made it when he first started. Years before the man stopped being a total asswipe.
“Did they give you a reason why?” Carter asks.
“Well, their overall impression of you.”
“What do you mean?”
Thomas sighs, loud and exasperated. “Look, you’re a great EMT. But we didn’t think you’d thrive in leadership.”
We? I thought it wasn’t up to you?
“Umm, excuse me?”
“Don’t take it the wrong way… You kind of blend into the background.”
Diego holds back a laugh, a strangled sound he tries to smother. Thomas’s comment clearly cracks him up. “Not laughing at you, Carter,” he says quickly. “Just the way he said it, caught me off guard.”
“Need someone who takes charge and keeps these knuckle-heads in check,” Thomas continues, gesturing vaguely. “The guys here listen to Jasmine. That’s part of why they chose her.”
“Honestly, if Diego wasn’t such a screw-up, we’d have given him the job.”
Diego didn’t even ask me, Carter thinks, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. Just co-workers. But he invited our douchy boss, Thomas? Weird.
“It’s not a big deal, sir, no worries,” Carter replies, the words tasting like metal.
“Glad you understand. Jasmine, my office. Lots to go over.”
Jasmine leaves the truck area and walks with Thomas through the station’s administration halls.
Diego claps Carter on the shoulder. “Damn bro, sorry about that. Tried, man. But you know, the old guys won’t change their minds about dudes like us.”
Carter says it’s not a big deal. Which it isn’t, not really. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t disappoint him. A little.
An hour and a half later, Jasmine returns from the office. A call comes in from dispatch just then. An accident at a nearby apartment building.
“What’s the situation?” Carter asks, grateful for the distraction.
“Critical, three miles away. Victim bleeding out.”
Carter checks truck supplies while Diego starts the ambulance. Carter and Jasmine buckle up in the back. As they pull out, Jasmine leans over. “You should have gotten the position,” she says, her voice low and sincere.
Carter gives her the same answer he gave Diego. “Not a big deal.”
BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!
His phone gets a notification from Sam and Leo’s group chat.
“Bro, you coming tonight?”
He replies, “Maybe, might be a busy day today ngl.”
Leo’s response is immediate. “Ahhh, don’t give me that man. Gotta be here tonight! Fun, free drinks, girls to talk to. Want my best buddies with me. C’mon man, it’s a layup!”
Carter thinks for a moment. Then types his reply. A small, genuine smile touches his lips. The first all day.
“Okay, fine, I’ll be there.”
“YEEEAAH!! He’s in!” Leo texts back instantly.
Sam chimes in a second later. “Haha nice, see you later!”
Jasmine glances over. “Everything fine?”
“Yeah,” Carter says, smiling. “Everything’s good.”
“Oh. Think we’re here.”
