U.S.L.U.

Journal Entry 01.
Commencing Transmission.
Time: 0800 hours, Station time.
August 27th, 2041.

I rolled out of bed, groping the air. My I-Bot stretched towards me, offering a clean uniform and a cup of coffee. As I tapped the front panel to read my mail and the news, it laced my shoes, quickly matted down my hair, and packed my bag with a Bio I copy and last night‘s engineering homework. I scanned over the U.S. Lunar Daily News again:  another rally on the front page. The war in China continued diminishing the government's popularity in the eyes of the people, and president Dana Johnson lost support by the minute. Something tells me she would not be up for re-election. I tapped the glass panel on top of the I-bot again, and watched it compress and roll under my bed, as quietly as it had come.  I threw my bag over my shoulder, kicking my roomate Dave DeMayo’s I-Bot out of the way.  No doubt Dave spent another all nighter chatting up his high school sweetheart. As his bot scurried beneath his bed,, I couldn’t help but step out into the room shaking my head. At 230,000 miles from earth, the guy was giving “long-distance” relationship a whole new meaning.

I give it a month.

Although an eternal darkness enveloped the school, there was no doubt that morning had arrived.  Students shuffled out of their dorms, some shadowed by I-Bots, others half-consciously trying to find their way to class. New faces strolled on a guided tour--the potential future students--and gawked at the meter-thick glass window as Earth slowly rotated beneath them. I hardly notice the scenery anymore. After passing by the same hallway a thousand times, the thrill of seeing my entire home planet in a single panel wore off. If you’re wondering, no, I can’t see the Great Wall of China from here, however, I can see Ciudad del Plata, one of the biggest, man-made underwater settlement in the eastern hemisphere. It was too early to make the math in my head and figure out exactly what time it was back home--I wasn’t a genius. The reason why I even got accepted to the United States Lunar University was because of my father's close personal relationship with the Dean. Actually, that’s how most people get in. You either had the right connections, your parents made an extremely generous donation to the school, or you were a walking, breathing super-computer like Dave. Either ways, it beat joining the workforce. It was either med school or flipping burgers. In this economy, it almost pays the same.
With an exasperated sigh, I  looked over my wrist-phone. Five minutes late to General Aerospace and Aeronautical engineering. I remember groaning when the Office of Career Development decided to include this in my curriculum, and zealously demanded to know when would I ever need that class.  But at this rate, I just might. Human Doctors are rare nowadays, with 90% of the patients preferring their I-Bots to make accurate diagnosis in the comfort of their homes. There were more engineers building machines to revolutionize medical care than there were doctors with a working license.

Journal, exterminate that last sentence.

There are NO human doctors with working license. Competition with the ’bots picked up so fast that Doctor nowadays is just an honorary title. Whatever. It still beats flipping burgers.

Journal, end transmission.