Please Rate Your Experience

This story won an Honorable Mention in Flash Fiction Magazine’s January 2024 contest.

I took an early flight out of Miami after my dad’s funeral. At the airport, TSA agents were pulling women of child-bearing age out of the security line, taking them away to pee on a stick. I set off the alarm, but the agent waved me through—white-haired ladies with metal hips are no longer a security risk! Boarding was a breeze. As the cabin door closed, a young woman slid into the seat next to me. She was weeping and shaking the whole flight. I just read my book, though—I didn’t want to intrude. 

GWENDOLYN, we’d love to hear about your JetBlue experience.

Flying on any airline these days is reliably a one-star experience, but JetBlue at least gives you Cheez-Its. I love Cheez-Its. Two stars.

~

My ex-husband Michael picked me up at Logan Airport; we’re divorced, but we still help each other out. The grief monster hadn’t found me yet—I still felt Dad right there. I teared up when Michael wrapped me in his bear hug. We decided to stop at our favorite Tex-Mex restaurant and listened to old Paul Simon tunes on the way.

I had ignored the news while attending to Dad, but as we waited for our server, I saw “breaking news” on my phone about a new virus. Yep, said Michael, deadlier than COVID was seven years ago. The ERs were bracing for pandemonium. 

I scrolled my phone. “The president says the virus is spreading because of the people in the detention camps. Poisoning the blood…”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Michael interrupted. “They aren’t going anywhere. What a dick!” 

“Maybe keep your voice down,” I muttered. 

Michael leaned back in the booth, frowning. “C’mon, Gwen,” he said. 

“Don’t c’mon me,” I said. “Your own brother lost his job when he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” 

“Just trying to stay human, darlin’,” he replied. 

And I want you safe, I thought to myself. I still need you. 

But, he was with me now, and I relaxed. My throat prickled when I sipped my first margarita. Must be the salt? As usual, there wasn’t much alcohol in the first one; the second and third delivered more of a punch. 

Gwen, how was La Comida? We value your feedback.

Disappointing drinks, spotty service now that the Guatemalans are gone, but it’s a fun place and the enchiladas are to die for. Four stars. 

~

I should’ve skipped that third drink. After Michael dropped me off, I collapsed onto the couch. The next morning I could barely move. No ordinary hangover. Had someone poisoned my blood? I knew I couldn’t drive myself to urgent care, so I called Michael. He picked me up right away.  

We settled into a waiting room crammed with feverish-looking people. At one point I overheard a Brazilian couple with a baby fail the English test at the desk. I know some Portuguese from vacationing in Lisbon, but how could I help them? I’d probably get thrown out myself. A nurse finally called my name; after taking my vitals he directed us to the hospital. No ambulances were available, so Michael drove.

Thank you for trusting Elysium Urgent Care. How did we do?

It was way too chaotic for me, though the staff did their best under the circumstances. Three stars.

~

Once we got to the ER, I told Michael to go home. His cheeks looked flushed. I longed to tuck him in bed and put a cold cloth on his forehead, but I doubted his girlfriend would appreciate that. Once an orderly got me onto a gurney, I doomscrolled on my phone and nodded off.

I woke up in a peculiar place: cave-like, but without the bats or stalagmites. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw a wraithlike man gliding toward me, clipboard in hand. “Please Rate Your Experience,” it said at the top. Jesus—the hospital wants my opinion already, I thought. Couldn’t they at least wait till I’m home?     

“And you are…?” I asked. 

He cocked his head and peered at me, as if trying to read my thoughts. “You can call me AL.”

“May I begin?” he continued. “About your departure: What brought you here today: accident, illness, self-inflicted harm?”

“Illness,” I said. “But you knew that.” 

“Who accompanied you on your visit? List only the most significant people.” 

“Well, my ex drove me here.”

“Ah, yes, Michael. He’ll be joining us shortly. But allow me to clarify, Gwendolyn. We’re asking about your entire visit, 1960 to 2027.”

The gravity of the situation started to dawn on me. “Read the other questions, please,” I said. 

“Thinking about your significant people: What did you mean to them? What were three highlights of your visit? Please rank the following possible characteristics of your future parents. One is least desirable, five is…” 

“Okay, I’m getting the picture, Al,” I said. “Can you leave me alone for a minute?” He nodded gravely and withdrew. I managed to compose myself and summoned him back in—seemingly with just my thoughts. 

“Sorry about all the questions,” he said. “We used to just weigh a person’s heart against a feather. But times have changed, and we’re trying to modernize. I hope you can humor us here! The survey will help us understand what lessons you’ve learned, what you regret, what you need next time, that type of thing.”

I decided to cooperate, answering all the questions with care. I was feeling pretty upbeat by the end.

Gwendolyn Hughes, help us plan your next visit. Please rate your experience.

My life was pleasant, if a bit too short, and I believe I was a good person. My visit, 1960-2027: Five stars.

When Al saw my rating, his eyebrows shot up like flames. Quickly recovering, he handed me an envelope. “Here’s what’s next,” he said. I read the inscription and laughed, recognizing one of Michael’s favorite sayings: “Karma’s a bitch, baby!

Jennifer Thomas is an environmentalist and speculative fiction writer. You can read some of her stories at https://www.jenniferthomas.net

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