After checking in with the lad who had offered the quest and accepting the meagre reward that had become the standard he expected from Averton Citizens, Peter had nipped around the corner and logged out. He felt a bit weird doing so where anyone was watching.

The real world greeted him with shades of orange and red. The sunset reflected into his room off the building opposite and filled the air with a stale afternoon heat. Sweat ran slowly down Peter’s temple and soaked the pillow.

“Eew,” he complained as he roused himself from the bed. Listening intently for a moment, he satisfied himself that either no-one else was home, or they were fully occupied in the digital realm. Stripping the case from the pillow took a second’s work, which was then dumped in the washing machine and replaced just as quickly. The continued silence assured him his swap had been unnoticed. He stepped carefully anyway, stealthily making his way around the apartment, peering around corners and breathing as softly as he could.

Finishing in the kitchen, certain that he was home alone still, Peter checked the time on the microwave oven and sighed as he read ‘5:30’. His father wouldn’t be home for at least an hour under normal circumstances, and these were not normal circumstances. He was a little nonplussed that his mother wasn’t home yet though.

As though summoned by that thought, keys rattled in the lock. Startled, Peter spun around to face the door.

“What’re you looking so guilty about? You didn’t break anything else did you?” His mother bustled jovially into the room juggling the keyring and a pair of paper bags. “No, don’t tell me, you decided to skip school. You ate all the Skittles I was saving for Halloween.”

Peter shrugged noncommittally. “Uh, none of the above Mum. I did get sent home again though, does that count?”

“It might do. Perhaps you’re guilty of not helping your dear mother with the groceries? Could it be that?” With a deft flick she tossed the keys into the bowl on the bench and placed the bags beside it. “Grab those ones out in the hall and help me get the cold stuff in the fridge before it gets warm.”

Dashing out into the hall, Peter scooped up the remaining bags and brought them in. Working together the two had all the food away in short order. When they were done, Peter put the jug on and made tea while his mother took a seat in the lounge room.

“Now, let’s see the note they sent home,” she asked holding out a hand expectantly. When it had been handed over and perused, she took a thoughtful sip of her drink. “So, let me see what she’s done to your arm.” Peter dutifully held it out. “Hmm. I hope we’re not being charged for this. It’s good work though, I have to admit.”

Taking a seat with his mug as well, Peter considered what the nurse had said this morning. “I’m pretty sure this is covered by the school health insurance. The nurse is a nice lady, I don’t think she would do anything to hurt us.”

Handing back the note, his mother sighed. “I guess so. Just, be more careful next time. We can’t afford any more medical bills. Or any more plates, for that matter.”

“Ok Mum. Sorry.” Peter stared into the depths of his cup.

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again. Now, go get the table ready for dinner. I’m going to start cooking as soon as I finish this.” She held up her cup. “And thank you, it’s good tea.”

Setting the table and sipping at his tea at the same time, Peter examined his arm again. It hadn’t really hurt since this morning, but he had spent the majority of the day in the Age while his body laid unmoving. It would take time to heal fully, but not jolting it around has to be good for the process.

When he was done he headed back into his room, calling out down the hall. “I’ve still got some homework to do, would you let me know when dinner is please?”

“Peter! Inside voice!”

Dang it, he thought. “Sorry.”

Sitting on the desk where he had left it, the Tablet sat waiting. Peter felt unusually reluctant to pick it up, but he had to get back on top of the schoolwork of there would be consequences. Still, rather than deal with the heavy subjects like maths or science, he decided to tab over to the fun stuff. Well, more fun than maths that is. Not that Peter wasn’t any good at it, but it was boring. Coma inducing even. What else do I have, he thought. English? Eh. I’m still thinking about the story for that one. Science? Blegh, biology this term. Besides, it’s naming the parts of a dissected rat. Looks too much like DB, pass on that. He flicked through a few more tabs trying to find a spark of interest. Oh, here’s one. Wait, Shop A has homework?

Indeed, Mr Wadsworth the woodwork teacher had set Peter his written assignment early. It was to design in CAD a table leg to be turned on a lathe. Then figure out how the leg would be attached to the table, which joint would be used, which fasteners, what sort of glue. It got Peter thinking about his attempts at making weapons in TAOS&S. He couldn’t rely on the scythe forever, if it were like the RPGs he’s played before it would soon be out levelled, plus not every situation called for a blade on a stick, no matter how cool. Now, if he were to harvest a branch from a tree he could… no. Mind on the job Peter, he scolded himself. Simple design, dovetail joint. You can put a nail through it if you want, but PVA glue should do it. I wonder where they got glue from in the old days? Argh! I’m doing it again! At least this one is done.

Closing the woodworking tab, he moved on to Shop B. This time it was a short essay on smelting metals. Wikipedia was his friend there, explaining early mining and smelting to more modern methods of extraction and purification. So boring. He banged his head against the desk. I will never be a blacksmith or a sheetmetal worker or a fitter and turner or a boilermaker. Why do they make us take these stupid classes?

“Oi, don’t do that, you’ll knock what little brains you have left out of your head.”

Peter whipped his head up in surprise. “Dad?”

“My god, has the amnesia taken your memory already?” Peter was picked up in a bear hug. “No, say it isn’t so! This self inflicted trauma has robbed my boy of his senses! Whatever shall we do? Wherever shall we go?”

Peter struggled against the affectionate smothering. “Daaaad!”

Letting Peter down, his dad tousled his hair. “Dinner time champ, if you can remember how to use a fork.”

Quickly tidying his things away, Peter followed his father down to the kitchen. “Finally, I’m starving,” he said as he sat down.

“Hi starving, I’m Dad.” The stupid joke earned a groan from Peter and an eye roll from his mother.

“Alright you two, that’s enough for now. Eat up while it’s still hot.” Peter’s mother started ladling out an unknown brown sludge.

His dad sniffed at his plate. “So, darling and love of my life, what is this you have served us tonight?”

“Poison. What do you think?” Peter’s mother kept ladling, this time pulling out several large white balls and placing them carefully on the plate.

“Mum, I think it’s beef stew and dumplings. I’m fairly sure you wouldn’t feed me poison. Dad, especially after that last joke, I’m less sure about.”

“Kiss ass,” his Dad retorted with a gentle elbow to the ribs. The shared laughter at that comment broke the building tension and everyone began to enjoy their meal. Peter showed his dad what the nurse had done for his arm and he showed Peter the new project his office was working on. Peter didn’t understand the entirety of the concept but it looked fascinating in theory. It was a whole new way of managing networks of smart devices or some such. Peter didn’t really care, it was just nice to have a family dinner where nobody was yelling at anybody for once.

After dinner Peter’s dad even volunteered to do the dishes, a once in a decade occurrence. “You two go get comfortable in the lounge. I’ll get this lot sorted and we can watch a movie. What do you say?”

Peter’s mum hadn’t said much during dinner and just shrugged now. Peter put the jug on and set out three mugs. “I’ll make tea, who’s in?”

His dad raised a sudsy hand. “Sounds good champ, make mine a chamomile and cinnamon please.”

“Mum?”

“Uh, a mint tea please.” She headed into the lounge as his dad continued to make as big a mess cleaning as there had been before he started. Even Peter was astounded as he managed to get bubbles on the ceiling.

Once the jug boiled, Peter carefully poured the hot water into the cups and arranged them on a tray to carry into the lounge. On a whim he grabbed a box of cookies out of the cupboard and put six onto a plate and added it to the tray as well. Balancing the load carefully he took them into the lounge and sat down with his mum.

“Are you ok?” He inquired as he passed her the mug. “I brought these as well, I thought your favorite might cheer you up.”

His mother smiled wanly. “Just some bad news today. Nothing to worry about.” She took a small bite out of the cookie. Then a larger bite. “Mmph. Thank you honey. These are delicious and just what I needed. What would you like to watch tonight?”

Munching on his own biscuit in thought, Peter flipped through the catalogue of films they owned. There were some old 2D classics like the Marvel movies they could watch like it were projected on a screen, some of the newer 3D movies that you could rotate and expand for the best view and even a couple of sensorium “films”, though the name didn’t really fit anymore. He settled on the remake of Star Wars 3D, the one they’d done after Lucas’s death and edited out some annoying character entirely.

“How about this one Mum? Is it ok?” Peter shared the link for her to see.

His mum blinked in surprise. “Are you sure? We’ve got the new Fantastic Four reboot that just came out on home-view. You wanted to see it at the cinema but we couldn’t go, remember?”

“I’m sure, besides, Dad likes this one too.” Peter hit the play button and let the opening credits roll until the famous crawl began then paused it. “Dad! The movie’s ready to go!”

“Inside voice champ! Besides, I’m only a couple of meters away. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Dang it, now Dad’s doing it. “Sorry”

Leaning in through the doorway, Peter’s dad gave a childish grin. “Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it again.”

Peter poked out his tongue. “That’s mum’s line.”

Peter’s mum smiled initially, then frowned. “Iain, the door frame?”

Chasentend, his dad wiped off the wet handprints he left on the frame with his shirt and duscked back into the kitchen. Peter’s mum scowled for a few minutes before seeming to let it pass. It had been a nice night so far, in Peter’s opinion, and that was such a rarity these days. A few minutes later his dad joined them in the lounge. He set up the family viewing program that linked all their implants and started the show. It was a basic 3D movie, so they were each able to adjust their individual viewpoints, but each of them was fully aware of their bodies sitting in the comfy seats in their home.

“Ohh, Star Wars,” his dad exclaimed. “I love this one. I should have made popcorn, did anyone want popcorn?” When the other two declined he sat back, a little disappointed. “Ok, but you’re missing out.”

The opening crawl scrolled up on a cone in this version, detailing the Trade Federation’s actions and setting the scene. The beautifully rendered CGI was indistinguishable from reality as the family watched the heroes battle their way across the galaxy far, far away. Peter stared in rapt fascination, loving the shared adventure reminiscent of the old days. Every so often he looked over at his parents to see if they were enjoying the movie too. His dad was equally drawn in, ducking and weaving along with the heroes, mouthing the words and cheering when a bad guy gets a light sabre to the face. His mother looked less enamoured, distracted even. Peter’s enjoyment soured when she disconnected from the family session to take a call. His dad didn’t even even notice.

When she rejoined a few minutes later the heroes were in the middle of retaking the palace and she looked profoundly annoyed but was determined to hide it. The irritation on her face faded as the final battle culminated and everyone received medals under a fireworks show. Peter shrugged it off, it could have been a telemarketer or something. No matter how good your spam filter you still got them every now and again.

The session ended and Peters parents were all business again. His dad popped into the kitchen and began rattling around.

“Shower time, you,” his mother ordered. “And be careful of that arm, the nurse didn’t do all that work for you to make a mess of it now.”

As Peter passed through the kitchen on the way to the bathroom, his dad turned from the cupboard he was putting the clean plates into and added, “Off to bed after that, but don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

Dutifully following the instructions as given, Peter performed his ablutions and climbed into bed. He had just barely settled in when the lights went out in the hallway and both parents stuck their heads around the corner to say goodnight.

It didn’t take long for Peter to fall asleep after his door closed. He didn’t even try logging into the Age. Nothing could top this night.