They sat around the table of their interdimensional clubhouse. Old copies of Captain Hitler comics lay strewn about the floor alongside a DVD box set of the complete "Wonderbastard" TV series. In the corner, a malfunctioning sexbot flipped through a dog-eared and sticky issue of Hermaph magazine.
At the table, the Futurians debated starting their meeting.
"But Josh isn't here yet," whined Albacore, the representative from the hippie future. After Ralph Nader's unprecedented 3 presidential terms created an ecologically sound, politically stable yet economically bankrupt global society, the nations of the world pooled their money and started communes in each of their cash-strapped countries. After 20 years of trading weed with each other for food and tripping on homemade acid for weeks on end, the world's population dropped considerably. Those who remained had little capacity for much other than eating, sex and watching TV, and the human race had already begun to devolve into lower primates. Those scientists still retaining sufficient brain cells theorize that within three generations, humanity will be little more than stoned monkeys watching reruns of Star Trek and humping all day.
"Fuck you, Albacore," Brattina spat. "I'm so sick of listening to your shit, especially since you couldn't even be bothered to bring drugs with you." Brattina was from a future ruled by C-list celebrities. Everyone was fabulously wealthy, yet utterly vapid. Rudeness and aloof disdain are the only accepted methods of communication, and most of the world's business is carried out in the trendiest of clubs, ending with all parties passed out, half-naked on the bar or both.
"Language, Brattina," John said primly. "And do you think next time you could dress more... appropriately? A thong and a bra are hardly sufficient public attire." John's upbringing in a future that had been conquered by radical fundamentalist Christians in the West and radical fundamentalist Muslims in the East had made him a trifle intolerant. He was shocked to discover that there were actually futures along the branching timelines that didn't publicly beat unmarried women over 30, and did not torture homosexuals to death. He wouldn't even be in this club if he didn't think he could save it from its heathen elements.
Mac-9 pulled out a handgun and shot John through the head. As she was from a future where urban gangs, endless global warfare and rampant terrorism caused citizens to be required to carry handguns and shoot one another on sight, the others tended to tolerate her predilection for shooting them indiscriminately. Plus, John was a bit of an ass anyway. "I'm with the whore," she said, caressing her gun. "Lets get this meeting over with before I frag every last one of you dickless fuckwads."
"LOL," said Teh, a young man from a future where everyone had wireless internet connections embedded in their skulls, but still only used them for blogging about politics, TV shows and their cats and surfing pornography. Teh was currently involved in an online role-playing game and was only half paying attention.
That's when Josh showed up, and after looking at him, they all wished he hadn't. Josh was part of the second generation born following a global thermonuclear war and his generation was when the really nasty mutations had started showing up. He had a second head, but it was perpetually concussed and he was also missing his skin. He drooled a lot and bled from his eyes, but it was his clubhouse and his turn to bring snacks.
Once the meeting started, they all picked up the ongoing debate over what the hell the purpose of their club was. They had to break it up once Mac-9 started shooting pieces off Josh, and Brattina began blowing Albacore under the table. After each taking a turn on the broken sexbot, they returned to their futures. Even John resurrected himself and went home. Just after they left, Enlightenment-7 showed up.
He was from a utopian future, where every one of Earth's social, economic and environmental problems had been solved and everyone lived in fruitful harmony. He was disappointed to see that everyone had left already.
He'd been hoping he could goad Mac-9 into shooting him, to free him from the tedious boredom.