Waste Not, Want

Fred Lubway, an eighty‑six‑year‑old engineer, wakes up alone in a sleek, absurdly automated penthouse that has been reassigned to him after his wife’s funeral. The state‑run Ration Board insists he upgrade his furnishings and meet strict daily consumption quotas, or face penalties that range from forced care to a charge of premature senility. As the cyborg kitchen whirs and the magnetic divans float, Fred confronts a world where even a cold shower or a pair of magenta tights become acts of quiet rebellion.

Navigating bewildering instructions, endless food‑log alerts, and the relentless pressure to “consume,” he battles both his grief and a bureaucracy that treats him like a data point. His stubborn refusal to let anyone dictate his taste—or his mourning—sets the stage for a wry, thought‑provoking look at a society that equates obedience with survival. The story balances satire with a tender examination of what it means to keep one’s identity alive amid relentless, prescriptive technology.