Some Time
In The
Future

Available in paperback or Kindle via Amazon

" Daniel White was standing on the 'up' platform of Herne Hill Station in London, waiting for the 9.47. His mobile phone was in his pocket. He was standing in the warm April sun which was starting to gather in strength. It was one of those days when you couldn't help feeling good about yourself and all was set fair.

Dan of course had been woken by his Smartphone earlier in the morning. It had then played his favourite radio station, a mixture of news, sport and comment, streamed through the phone. It had waited silently and diplomatically while Dan had shaved and showered. It had made no comment as he rushed through his ablutions. It had listened to everything, but as it knew Dan didn't like much chat in the mornings, it had remained in the background.

It had switched off all electrical appliances and made sure everything was in powered-down mode as Dan left the house. It had checked his e-mails, social media and texts, and confirmed there was nothing of importance. It had skimmed the news, but it could see nothing which hadn't been carried in the radio programme it had streamed earlier.

And so Dan's Smartphone was sitting in his pocket, monitoring everything, yet saying nothing. It knew what train Dan was about to get on. It knew that train was on time (for it constantly monitored the network). It knew that Dan liked to sit facing forward; and it knew what things he was likely to look at on his Smartphone once he was in the carriage.

The sun was still shining. Yes. It was going to be a beautiful day. Ah yes, thought Dan. The beginning of summer, right here.

Exactly on time, Dan could see a yellow dot far down the track. Within a couple of minutes this would turn into the 9.47. Dan waited, pleasantly cheered by this wonderful scene: the bright sunlight, the twittering birds, the feeling of spring.

The train was getting bigger now, gradually growing into a full-size set of carriages. The motors wound down, the relays clicking as it pulled in. With a gentle hiss the doors opened. Dan was able to walk in and find his favourite seat.

Dan took the phone out of his pocket. There it was, this thin slice of aluminium and plastic, this game-changer, which had transformed society so much.

And what was the name of the company which had come up with this little marvel, this little mind in your pocket, which had come out on top in all the wars between the brands of similar phones, and which had come out as the undisputed champion, the must-have item which everybody used? It was a company called Avocado. Avocado? That's right. Why it was named after a funny tasting fruit with a big stone in the middle nobody quite knew, but that hadn't stopped it becoming the world's biggest company, the world's most successful company, and by far the most important company in the world.

The train started up. Those relays clicked back in again as the train picked up speed. Not long now; just under half an hour, and they would be at Victoria.

And how old was Dan? Forty-nine actually. An intermediate age. Not quite over the hill, but no spring chicken either.

He looked out of the window. They were passing numerous red brick houses with back gardens running down to the tracks. There were earth banks, overhead signal gantries, areas of scrap land by the lines – and Dan watched all this roll by.

He looked up. Ah, the warm sun! For a moment Dan closed his eyes. How good it was to sit here, in his favourite seat, the gentle movements of the train massaging his back!

And for a moment Dan was taken back to his youth, when there were many phones, like Google's Pixel, Samsung and Apple. Of course in those days there were many tech companies too; but now there was just one company – and only one phone.

Unsurprisingly, that phone was known simply as 'the Smartphone', but what a smart phone it was! For it didn't just make sure your lights were all switched off when you left the house, and check your in-box and know what was in your fridge. Oh no. It did far more than that.

For your Smartphone actually listened to your phone calls, and understood everything you said. Yes, it could actually understand everything you said, just like a human could! It also read all your e-mails, Facebook posts and other social media.

But it didn't end there. It would listen to every conversation you had with your friends. It knew who your friends were. It knew what your friends' opinions were. It knew what your opinions were, on every topic you had ever discussed. (For it never forgot anything.) Come to think of it, it probably knew more about you than you did yourself.

After all, not only could your Smartphone listen to what you were saying, but it had incredible powers of hearing more generally. It could tell just by the particular kind of rustle the paper made, whether you were opening a packet of cornflakes or a packet of crisps. It had astonishingly sensitive hearing. It could detect tiny changes in the temperature of a room. It could detect the tiny vibrations in the floorboards of your house, when someone was moving about, and know who it was by the particular pattern of vibrations.

It could monitor your heartbeat and your breathing from several yards away. There really was absolutely nothing it didn't know about you, your opinions, and your bodily functions. It even knew what kind of jam you preferred for breakfast and what time you went to bed.

Yet even all this wasn't the really remarkable thing about the Smartphone from Avocado. What was really incredible was that having listened to all your phone calls, it could have a conversation with you in exactly the same style as any of your human friends. Just think about that! In theory, you didn't need human friends anymore, because technically, the only friend you ever needed was your Smartphone. Thanks to the sophisticated software programmed into it, which was based on algorithms which in turn had processed millions of similar conversations, it could effortlessly reproduce the style, tone and content of the sort of conversations you liked to have, in a perfect reproduction of any of your friends.

This meant that your Smartphone was more than just a phone. It was more like an ally which knew all your intimate secrets. It could listen thoughtfully and kindly. It could intuit your moods. It could be funny, sympathetic or cheeky as the situation required. It was in short a companion, a muse, a confidant and a partner in your daily journey through life.

Of course, all this meant that Avocado had an absolute stack of information on you. It literally knew everything about you; for everything your Smartphone knew Avocado knew too.

Yet surprisingly little came of all this. And in fact, providing you didn't break the law in any serious way, most of the time nothing seemed to come of it at all.

For Avocado had issued a solemn pledge never to release any of the information it had on you to any third parties – a pledge they stuck to. It wouldn't even release information to the government, except in clearly defined circumstances; and thus it was that the pathetic details of your bathroom habits would remain buried deep in one of Avocado's's immense servers somewhere, as a few lines of encrypted code which could not be hacked.

Actually, it was a blessed relief that Avocado had been so proprietorial with everyone's data. It must have been a very great temptation to sell some of it to advertisers, but on reflection Avocado had probably adopted the best strategy; for it seemed on reflection that this company could never have become as influential – indeed indispensable – in so many countries, if it had played fast and loose with people's data.

And in any case, it wasn't all bad that your Smartphone did know so much about you; for many a Smartphone user had been saved when their phone had detected a sudden health crisis in the middle of the night, and summoned the emergency services in the nick of time; and thus it was no exaggeration to say that there were a great many people around today who had very good reason indeed to be grateful to their Smartphone from Avocado.

But of course, the Smartphone was more than just your personal assistant, muse and friend (and possibly lifesaver). It was also your indispensable interface with reality. After all, you couldn't buy anything without it. (Physical money had long since disappeared.) You couldn't go on a bus or train without it, because these days tickets were virtual, held on your Smartphone.

In fact, you couldn't do anything at all without your Smartphone, if it involved paying for something or proving your identity. You couldn't even get on the internet without it, because these days it was the only way get on-line. (PCs, Microsoft and land-lines had disappeared years ago.) You couldn't even get into your own house without it, because it was your Smartphone which unlocked your front door.

And of course, all your household appliances were linked to it, so that you couldn't even adjust your central heating without it; and naturally you couldn't send a text without it or get the news without it or contact your friends without it; and so it was no exaggeration to say that without your Smartphone it would be impossible to live a normal life in this modern society.

Of course, with so much information on it, including access to all your money, you might think that criminals would always be trying to steal your Smartphone; but in fact the opposite was the case.

Criminals quickly discovered that trying to steal your Smartphone was impossible, because it was loaded with security features. It didn't just have face recognition and fingerprint recognition (how terribly old-fashioned!) Oh no. It had a whole host of ways of knowing who you were. It could sense how you held the phone, what size your fingers were, how much pressure they exerted on the phone's casing, the signature of your heartbeat, the speed of your breathing and the sound of your voice. It knew how far you held the phone from your face and in what order you checked your social media and the kind of texts you liked to write.

Within a few seconds of it being picked up by any third party it would start to get suspicious. It would swiftly compare your face to an immense database of other possibilities and identify who the interloper was. It could, if the occasion demanded it, play dumb and pretend it wasn't suspicious, while secretly alerting the security services, so that the first thing the criminal who had taken your phone knew about it was when the arresting officer put cuffs on him.

Of course, criminals swiftly realised that trying to take someone's Smartphone could only end badly for them, and soon stopped trying to do so. Indeed, it was perfectly possible to leave your Smartphone somewhere and it would be swiftly returned to you, such was the wish of people not to be thought to be taking your phone.

But still the question has to be asked – why did governments the world over allow a situation to develop, in which there was only one phone and only one tech company? After all, as we all know, monopolies are bad, aren't they?

The answer was that a lot of countries didn't have any choice. Once the big countries, which really meant America, had consented to have only one tech provider, there wasn't much other countries could do about it. But why had America done this, a country which cherished competition and the free market above all else?

The answer wasn't hard to figure out actually. In the end, it all boiled down to money. The fact was, that Avocado could generate a bigger tax take for the government than the government could itself.

After all, people had to use their Smartphones for all transactions, and their money was held in Avocado Bank, the only bank which still existed (and which was a virtual bank). This meant that Avocado knew exactly how much money every single person in the country had on account.

Thus your Smartphone was in the perfect position to totalise your annual income and expenditure and calculate any taxes you owed to the government. It would even transfer the correct amount automatically, so that you didn't have to do a thing and the government got paid on time.

But it didn't end there. With the advent of the Smartphone, which was always linked to a particular individual, the identities of all those transferring money were always known. This effectively ended under-the-counter payments, and for the first time, all across the world, the so-called informal economy had to pay its fair share of tax. This was reason enough for governments to turn a blind eye to Avocado's monopoly, for almost without exception governments across the world received an immense tax bonus.

Similarly, companies also could no longer dodge the taxes they owed, because they were using Avocado's cloud service (the only cloud service available). This of course could effortlessly ascertain the real financial situation of every company – and again transfer the correct tax payment to the government. This resulted in yet another windfall to cash-strapped authorities, who were only too happy to set aside their reservations about Avocado as a result. "