Jill of the Future - One Shot (Patreon)

Hello reader,

My name is Jill, and the last six months of my life have been mighty peculiar. To begin, I was born in the year 2189, but when we left, it was 2207. And when I say left, I don’t mean for another country or another colony. No, I mean for another time. I find myself in the quaint year of 2021, under no choice of my own. My father has been accused of horrible crimes of which he did no commit, but the high council of our colony was gunning for his head.

So my father, the elusive and intelligent physicist that he is, used his research in black holes and time distortion to create us a device that would send us back to a predetermined time. My father landed on the year of 2021 as it seemed a suitable living environment and random enough for the authorities to struggle in their efforts to find us. Not that that would be able to come back anyways; my father programmed the device to self-destruct after use. Meaning no one could use it to follow us, but also, we were stuck here.

My father, mother, younger brother and I struggled to adjust at first, but thankfully my father sent back some tools with us that allowed us to cheat the rudimentary systems in place during this time. We printed thousands of their paper money, something I had only seen in museums before, and were able to purchase an unassuming house in what was called a “suburb.”

My brother was older than me, so he and my father found themselves some jobs in the private sector. I, on the other hand, had to go to a primitive learning academy called “high school.” I understood that my age made me appear on the same level as my “peers,” but these student’s knowledge was significantly beneath mine. Besides, most of the topics these teachers discussed were outdated or already installed in my education chip.

I recall one afternoon performing the gesture of raising one’s hand in the air with the purpose of being called upon to question the educator when I confronted this less-evolved system.

“Do you have a question, Jill?” The teacher asked me.

“Yes, are we going to be covering something worth my attention today? Or perhaps may I be excused for something more enriching?” It was a simple question. Why sit through useless information I already knew when I could be utilizing my talents elsewhere? The other students laughed, and the teacher was not impressed.

“If you have a problem with what I’m teaching Jill, you can bring it up with me in detention after school,” She snapped.

“You mean to imprison me? How unethical. I do hope you at least mean to provide some sort of rehabilitation to myself and other attendees?” I asked, but she didn’t care for that response either.

One of the most unfortunate realizations I have had a hard time adjusting to is the “bathroom.” When I am from, we all wear regulation suits that recycle our body’s water, including bodily fluids such as urine. When we came here, though, the suits were too advanced to be worn in public, so I had to wear time-appropriate attire. On my first day of “high school,” I was wandering the halls when my body relieved itself as normal. The fabric of 2021 did not recycle my fluids at all, instead absorbing it and leaving a very unfortunate stain.

The reactions from the fellow students were the most unfortunate, as I was quickly subject to bouts of ridicule and humiliation. One student laughed and said, “what’s wrong, forgot to wear your diaper?” I approached him and asked him a follow-up question in response.

“What is this diaper you speak of? Where may I acquire one?” I asked, hoping these mysterious objects were the answer to sparing myself from further humiliation. The student was resistant but helpful. They directed me to a local pharmaceutical facility where I was able to acquire said diapers. They were interesting garments, to say the least—absorbent material designed to hold excrement around one’s waist. Having become very wealthy in this time, I bought out their supply and delivered it to my household for my family to share.

They were delighted, as many of them had too experienced an “accident” as a result of being without our regulation suit. While we wore the suits at home, the diapers allowed us to blend in amongst the primitive people from this time.

Or, so I thought. The next day, when I wore a diaper to school, I approached the boy who enlightened me to the whereabouts of the absorbent garments.

“Thank you, I am now wearing a diaper following your recommendation,” I said to him. He laughed.

“Good, you need them. Aren’t you embarrassed, though?”

“Why would I be embarrassed? These are designed to spare me from further embarrassment, are they not?”

Well, yeah, but like...only babies wear diapers. Not high schoolers.”

“You mean, only those in the early stages of their life require such items? Then why offer them in adult sizes?” I was inquisitive, to say the least.

“Look, you’re kinda weird, so I’m just gonna go to class now. Have fun in your diaper…” he said and proceeded to walk away.

I felt a warmth around my groin area as he left, indicating that I was relieving myself again. The diapers were performing their designated function though, as my urine was absorbed fully into the padding. Satisfied, I flagged down another student, a female.

“Excuse me, miss, do you know where one goes to change their soiled diaper?” I asked her. She snorted with laughter but then directed me to the bathroom.

While these people seem to find everything hilarious, they do tend to be helpful in the end. I am adjusting to this time slowly. In the meantime, I still need to figure out why they make adult diapers if that student claimed they were only for children?

Sincerely,

Jill