# dictation interrupted #

While Liam stammered through the story, Abigail edited and corrected for misquotes. We’d agreed that the one-hundred percent truth wasn’t what was being written, more like the inspired narrative of Liam’s life similar to how it was done before ABI.

“My autobiographical fiction, which I call a memoir, is leaving out the eating and bowel movements,” Liam says. “However, I do appreciate not misrepresenting others.”

Total recall, like what is being threatened to the new generation, would really complicate the headcanon we have for ourselves. I believe it’s important to be able to forget some things and misremember others.

# begin dictation #

“Bullshit,” Minnie said, “there is no way they let you run around without adult supervision. Thousands of you?”

I laughed. “Yep. Thousands of us and only like a hundred adults. I’d go days without seeing an adult.”

“That is irresponsible.”

“We survived. From my understanding, that is still what Conference is like.”

“My little grandbabies will go to Conference and be left to defend themselves for a week. I do not like this idea. They are too young.”

I finished the last bite of my pizza. Minnie’s slice sat on her plate with only a nibble taken off of it.

“The whole point is,” I said, “that they don’t need adults. All of the activities and games are run by the computers.”

“What do they do at night?” Minnie asked.

I sucked my teeth. “Well, I guess that is when they might get into some trouble. When I was a teen at Conference, nights were my favorite. Still no adults but also no events. You could go to dance clubs, video game zones, art tents, or whatever.”

“Who is there to make sure they don’t get in trouble?”

“Still just the computer, I guess. But that free-time is when you really meet people and made friends.”

“That is when you had sex, no?”

I cleared my throat. “Umm, yeah.”

“See. That should be stopped by adults.”

“I don’t think that is something the adults can really stop. But I also think that is part of the point. Like, they have all these hormones raging which is natural and so they do what is natural.”

“My babies are not ready for that.”

“They will be, someday.”

“They should wait till marriage to do that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did you wait till marriage?”

Minnie’s squinted at me.

“Right,” I said. “People created this rule about sex; it’s for marriage. And then they made marriage to be only for adults; so sex was only for adults. Biology doesn’t agree.”

“I still don’t think they are ready.”

“Of course not. Not till after the arbitrary achievement of living for eighteen years, right?”

“You think you’re funny, Liam, but even than they might not be ready.”

I leaned forward in my seat. “You’re right. Some of them aren’t ready and that’s okay.”

Reaching over the table, I pushed the plate closer to Minnie. “I’m sure the doctor would want you to be eating.”

“Oh no, don’t you talk to me doctor me.”

“Fine. But what did the doctor say?”

Minnie touched her wrist device. “Abi, bring me the boogie.”

“Where you going?” I asked.

“I’m going to the spa. I can’t believe that you would let kids do such things.”

“Hey, it’s not what I ‘let’ them do. The whole point is that they can make their own choices.”

A 4 wheeled electric scooter parked alongside Minnie and she slid over onto the seat. “I don’t want to know what they do.”

“Fine. I’ll see you later tonight?”

Minnie began riding away. “Go visit your parents. Your dear mum would want to see you.”

#

My parents lived in the same flat that I grew up in, minus one room that was absorbed into the neighbors flat when I moved out. I approached the door and stopped to prepare myself for Mom and Dad. But before I could muster the will to knock, the door slid open revealing both standing in the doorway, stupid smiles on their face. A stupid smile appeared on mine and I stepped into their embrace.

“Oh jeez, Liam,” Dad said withdrawing quickly. “Your shower busted?”

Mom stepped back too and looked me up and down. “What happened?” she asked.

“Yesterday I was up early because Stalker decided he needed to go outside,” I said. “He’d seen a bird or something and was convinced he was going to go out and get it. You can’t change his mind when he decides such things. So I went out with him and it just ended up being the two of us sitting in the dirt quietly sunbathing till the coffee started at nine.”

Mom motioned for me to take a seat at the table with them.

I sat across from mom, our customary arrangement. “There was a tribe Festival I had to attend. Obligations and whatnot. Taking a shower before going would have been inviting people to spend time with me. I decided to walk to the village, it’s only a kilometer or so away.”

Dad grunted offered me a scone and I declined.

I continued. “The meeting is, as usual, an excuse for everyone to get together for food and day drinking. The kids play outside the rotunda, the young adults stick around long enough to figure out who to leave with, and the rest of us with obligations eventually are able to move on to the formalities; Herbert’s favorite part.”

Mom had set a coffee, black, down in front of me. “Herbert is that really vocal elder?” she asked.

“Yes, and thanks,” I said to Mom and sipped the coffee. “Anyway, so they got to me and had a little cheer of encouragement. Last month I delivered a few-hundred percent more yield than from the year before. It’s the first year I allowed all the fruit to set.”

Dad and Mom both shook their heads in understanding.

I sipped and blew on the coffee. “But then Herbert started to talk about someone else growing tomatoes in town. The crowd cheered for this man who stood up, a tomato in each hand.”

“You jealous, honey?” Mom said, ribbing me.

“Nope. Wait for it. Herbert informs his audience that I, me, am going to be helping to improve the tomato harvest.”

I took another sip of the coffee finding it not too hot, so I swallowed a gulp. “As soon as the business concludes, I catch Herbert and ask him what makes him think I’m going to help someone grow tomatoes. He points out that—though I was right about not being obligated to other tribes—my proposal included a clause that said I would be the advisor for any ‘agriculture’. Last year, we agreed this meant all food growing and so I was responsible for the farming operation on the other end of the village. No problem, it takes me an hour or two every month to check in on.”

“Liam, what’s wrong with checking on a few tomato plants?” Dad asked.

Mom looked at him and looked at me. She knew where this was going.

“What is wrong is that this person was trying to grow them without drone assistance, in pots, and without automated irrigation. All ‘organic’.”

Mom scoffed. Dad guffawed.

“Yeah. The two fruits he held up were the only two fruits he’d grown. So instead of wanting helpful help, this guy wanted me to handhold him past the obstacles he’d created for himself.” I chugged the remainder of the mug’s contents.

Mom poured more coffee in my mug and topped up her own. “Do you think you could convince him to at least use a drone to manage insects and watering?” she asked.

“I tried! He told me about a serial he’d been watching. In it, they espoused the dangers of ‘chemicals’ and glorified gardening as a ‘fun’ hobby. By the time I got home that evening, I laid down in bed and was done.”

I stopped and stared pensively into the steaming black drink in my mug.

“Honey?” Mom said, ducking her head down to look up at me. “We heard you came with Minnie because she’d had a health episode.”

I meet her eyes; they were old, kind, and glassy with sympathy.

“She’s fine for now but she’s not telling me why the doctor seemed worried for her,” I said looking back at my coffee so I wouldn’t tear up in response to Mom.

I took a deep breath and leaned back in the seat looking them both over but stopping on Dad. “So how is your work coming along?” I asked.

Dad jumped right on board with changing subjects. “Your Uncle Paul and I are mostly just surveilling some groups moving through Eastern Europe and Central America. Both have tested boundaries for our transitional villages and found that the warnings should not be taken lightly. Since then, they’ve mostly returned to metal scrapping. The raiders in Europe are attached to a non-incorporated tribe that made contact wanting to trade for food and medicine.”

“Exciting,” I said raising my mug as a toast.

He raised his hand, fingers curled around an imaginary glass. “It certainly is. If we can modify their behavior away from using violence as a means for acquisition, we project that they’ll be ready for incorporation within the next twenty years.”

His smile faded, his face turning grim. “The group in Central America is unattached to a cohesive tribe. It’s entirely adults which suggests prevalent sterility. Besides a few of the youngest, communication suggests their cognitive ability has been diminished by NoNtiV encephalitis. It’s unlikely that negotiation will ever be viable. They’ve moved as far South as they have because the easily scavenged resources are running out. Plus, the large, well-established tribes in North America are expanding their territories. The raiders are not expected to survive another year.”

“Wow. That is sad. But you said the large tribes in North America are expanding?” I asked.

“Yeah. Some are naturally splintering into geographically separated villages with their own leadership. A few have contacted WISE and opened dialog and trade.”

“Your father is doing great work to unite the world,” Mom said and made the toasting gesture with her mug. All three of us gave cheers.

“And you Mom?” I asked.

“I was afraid you’d ask that,” she said, setting her mug back down. “I’ve not been working on anything.”

“You can be retired, Mom. You deserve it.”

“I’ve retired alright. I’ve retired from the project, from my hobbies, and just about everything that used to keep me busy,” she said.

“So what are you doing with all the time you’ve created for yourself?”

“Watch serials and play video games,” she said. She preemptively pursed her lips and pointed at me.

I tried to hold back a laugh but it snuck through.

“At least I’m doing it now that I’m old,” she said. “Not like you wasting your prime”.

I sucked my teeth. “Ouch, cut deep, Mom. Are you playing Animal Crossing?”

“I’ve gotten to Halo Three on my legendary run,” she said.

“Oh yeah? Skulls?”

“Birthday Party, of course.”

I whistled. “You’re serious, Mom.” I looked at dad. “Are you split-screening with her?”

He put his hands up and shook his head. “No idea what you two are on about.”

“Well Dad, Mom is saving the universe while you’re saving the world. Mom wins.”

Dad and I raised to toast while mom silently sipped her coffee and tried to ignore us.

I finished up my coffee while I caught them up with what Stalker and I had been up to on the farmstead.

Evidently, something I said reminded Mom of something and she interrupted my tablet assisted presentation on asparagus. “Your uncle would love if you’d stop by to say hi,” she said. “He’d mentioned wanting to talk to you about something.”

Dad joined in. “Mmhmm, I think he was hoping you’d be interested in helping on a new project.”

I eyed them both. “Uncle Paul wants me to travel, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Dad said. “As much as he loves it, he’s getting too old to do it anymore. Plus…”

Mom interjected with a smile on her face. “Plus, he think’s you’d enjoy traveling too if you gave it a chance.”

“I do travel. I just don’t care to go talk to people who would like to see me dead,” I said.

“Thankfully, we haven’t had a visit like that in over a decade,” Dad said. “Better intel, better communication, and better goods for trading makes for warmer welcomes. We’re also able to call ahead for most. Besides, Paul would want to see you while you’re here in Tesla anyways. It’s not like you visit often.”

Leveraging my non-existent guilt was a risky play on Dad’s part, but I knew there would be no escape from hearing the sales pitch. I agreed to “go say hi” to Uncle Paul.