Census thing
1980 I’m a few months old, living with my parents and twin brother in a rented duplex in a suburb of Pittsburgh called Wilkinsburg.
1990 I’m 10 and living in the house my parents still live in today. I’m in 4th grade in public school, and the next September I’ll transfer to a Catholic grade school. Unbeknownst to me (or anyone at this point) I would have a little sister by January of the next year.
2000 I’m 20 and living in an on-campus apartment in Rochester. My roommates and I think the census is only for permanent residents of an area, so we discard our forms. The census bureau continues insistently sending forms. Finally people who know better yell at us and make us fill the forms out.
2010 I’m 30, and I’ve lived in Little Rock not quite 3 months. I’m finally done with school and have a professional job that pays a good salary. I’m very grateful that my education has payed off, but otherwise I have no idea how to feel about this since it is completely outside of my realm of experience.
2020 Despite my physical condition and glaringly apparent unqualification I have been selected to help colonize Mars after a monkey plague has decimated humanity and destroyed the environment. The impact on Earth’s rotation means I’m 42 instead of the expected 40. My census forms never made it back to earth because, well, if you think the local postal service is bad, wait till you see the interplanetary postal service.
2040 Thanks to Mars’ longer year I’m now 47. We’ve realized that the importing of monkeys to Mars has had no effect on the spread of the plague. We’re all doubtful that a 2050 census will even happen.
