simulacra
[ˌsim-yə-ˈla-krə]
Something that resembles reality
July 8th 2018 - 08.00 a.m.
"In History Today, July 8th. Seventy years ago, in 1948, The United States Air Force created the program 'Women in the Air Force', where for the first time they recruited women to serve in the military with limited roles. This program ended in 1976, when women were accepted into the military in equal basis with men."
"Ding!"
My thumb stopped scrolling on the news as I heard the microwave sound through the news podcast, flowing through the air without anyone really listening, as if it was only there to fill the silence of living alone. The heavenly scent of curry is slowly spreading into the air as I walked to the microwave, opening it, revealing a magnificent work of mine - heated dinner's leftovers.
Bringing the food to the table, a little bit too big for me to eat alone at, I grabbed a glass to fill it with some orange juice, but left in the fridge were only some cans of Dr. Pepper."
"Guess I have no choice."
But as I grabbed a can, a moment of epiphany hit me. "Why did this particular drink remind me of someone, or in particular, something I have to do that has to do with this someone?"
Mind still too hazy from oversleeping, it went blank for a while before the strange bug from this morning popped in my mind.
"Oh. I have to tell Seven about the bug."
I tapped on the RFA Messenger icon, and went to its call feature. I looked for Seven's name in my call log (bad habits die hard. Besides, it's more convenient to search from the call log than from the contact menu- or it's simply about habit, I guess), and half-desperately, half-indifferently, press the call button.
I placed the phone to my ear but...
There was only static.
I checked the screen -
Did it just glitch?
I tried to place it on my ear again -
An abrupt noise, loud enough to blast my ears off, and;
The messenger was force-closed.
"Snap it's already nine thirty. Why didn't my 'go-to-work' alarm ring?"
I didn't have enough time to deal with any shady RFA business right now.
"I'm going."
My voice echoed in the large, empty room.
In my head.