Cash: An Endangered Species

A telltale sign in a tap-and-go world.

Jumped in the janky Time Machine to grab a bagel in a near future, and there it was, a sign in a window, "We Still Accept Cash." Everything else? Swipes, taps, and nods. Money's gone invisible, like it's just numbers in the air we breathe. You can't touch it, smell it, or stash it under your mattress.

Nobody's carrying wallets. It's like they've offloaded their financial brains to their gadgets. And there's this sense of eerie convenience, like you could buy a car with a blink or a nod.

But this one shop, hoarding a piece of the past with its cash sign, stands out. It's not just old school; it's ancient. It's like walking into a museum where the exhibit is a normal day from my primeline. It's weirdly defiant, a silent protest against the digitized, sanitized, and simplified world outside.

This cashless wonderland, it's got its perks, sure. But it's also a bit unnerving. Everyone's financial life is just a hack away from chaos. No cash means no anonymity. Every penny you spend tells a story about you to someone with access.

So, this sign, it's more than nostalgia. It's a reminder of what we're leaving behind. The tangibility of money, the freedom of an untraceable purchase, the simplicity of a world where not everything was data.

We're inching towards this future every day. Fewer ATMs, more tap-to-pay. It's convenient, yeah, but at what cost?