The year is 2027. I think back to the cool autumn days of November 2025 as I browse the chips and drinks section of Safeway. Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. had just introduced colorless alternatives to Cheetos and Doritos, and stores slowly began removing the original crunchy munchies that exhibited a range of colors: red, yellow, orange, and blue. I remember the sizzle in my bones and my body coming alive as those synthetically dyed crisps settled on my tongue. I’ll be twenty in a year, marking two decades of my life on earth, and the third one will be devoid of a supplement that sustained my life for nearly eighteen years: Red 40.
I was never one to participate in illicit activities, and frankly, I thought the things people were doing to access this illegal substance were ridiculous. I lost friends to Red 40—they stormed local hospitals to access vials of the red goo and downed them like it was the antidote to cure their internal pain. Yellow 6, Yellow 5, and Blue 1 were also bought and sold under the table, but Red 40 was most definitely the substance that was relentlessly abused. As much as I missed the glorious taste of that terribly addictive chemical, I wouldn’t risk losing everything for a moment of joy.
As I was lost in thought thinking about these terrible times, when all of a sudden, the ceiling above aisle 6 collapses. Something large has penetrated the roof and collapsed onto the floor, sending me flying across the store. The AI store workers around me begin screaming and the alarms go off. Is it an asteroid? Is it a bird? Is it one of Elon’s flying cars (Tesla has been tinkering with the idea recently)? We’re not sure.
I feel the arms of an iRobot (not the movie, the Apple product) encapsulate me and carry me outside. This one is part of the emergency responder team—I know this because, despite my hazy vision, I can see the neon-yellow hat he’s wearing. He drops me on the floor, and the concrete hits my bum. Ow. He promptly rushes inside to carry out another injured person.
In just a few moments, the reckless iRobot returns and drops its rescue directly atop me. My brain goes fuzzy, my vision goes black, and I’m out.
⤝-⤞
When I awaken, I’m sprawled on my couch at home. I understand that they didn’t take me to the ER because my injuries were not severe. These days, iRobots assess victims quickly and simply return them to their spawning point if they’re good to go.
It takes an embarrassing amount of attempts to move my arm, and my fingers fumble around to grab the TV remote off the coffee table. I flick through the channels until the screen flickers to reveal a news anchor sporting a straight face.
A bright red banner flashes at the bottom of the screen. “Breaking news: superhumans discovered after Red 40 Exposure!” The anchor taps on her iPad for a moment before speaking.
“Authorities have confirmed the cause of the Safeway incident this morning,” she says with a nervous quiver in her voice. “The entity that crashed through the ceiling was not an asteroid, nor a malfunctioning Tesla car, but a superhuman.”
The screen cuts to blurry footage of aisle 6, and suddenly I’m taken back to the scene. I watch as the roof caves and a person crashes through the ceiling with the grace of a dying pigeon. They bounce off a shelf of discounted La Croix and skid across the floor, leaving behind a trail of red sparkly residue.
The newswoman clears her throat, and the video cuts back to her.
“Officials confirm that the individual had consumed excessive amounts of Red 40. The dye appears to have built up in the corpus and spontaneously activated. Experts warn that Red 40-induced superpowers are unpredictable.”
All of a sudden, the electricity’s out.
“Where’s my TV?” I exclaim to no one other than myself.
I break into a sprint, dashing down the stairs to the breaker box. I might not be addicted to Red 40, but I’m certainly addicted to the various glowing blue boxes in my jurisdiction. As I slide to the circuit, I’m halted at the sound of the doorbell. Before I can react, my door split into splinters, hinges devastated. Five iRobots storm into my room and pin me down. I scream.
It all happened so suddenly. A small red vial, a glass syringe, and all of a sudden, I’m levitating.
I hear one last thing before I’m knocked out for good: “You are the chosen one.”
