Life and Love in the Pod
By Bart Main
Timmy stirred beneath the blanket as the dawn filled his room. Stretching deliciously, he opened one eye to look at the clock.
“Temp?” he asked.
“18,” replied Margo.
“Good. Perfect for my run,” thought Timmy.
The lights came on as he rolled out of bed, the covers shook themselves into place as the Murphy bed ascended, the wall opened to reveal the bathroom, and Timmy stumbled into the shower.
“Tell Mom I’ll have a Spanish frittata,” he told Margo.
“Got it,” she replied.
As the faint smell of endorphins tingled him awake, Timmy slipped on some shorts and a T-shirt and walked out the door into the sweet smell of spring. The path beckoned him along as his bare feet kissed the mossy grass. The air filled him with joy. He picked up his pace when he saw a familiar bouncing ponytail flash through the trees ahead.
“Genevieve!” he called thru his wrist band. The girl waved her left arm in response, but she seemed to pick up speed. Timmy wondered for a moment whether his ear stud was dead until the realization struck him that she wasn’t interested in his company. He turned down the short trail and was home, took another quick shower, and plunked down across from his mom at the breakfast table. The frittata was delicious, and he told her so.
“So what’s wrong?” asked Mom.
“Genevieve snubbed me just now.”
“She’s involved. You’ll have to find somebody else to fall for.”
“Yeah, I know. But she is really cute.”
“Yes, she is, and so are you, honey. What about Rebecca? I was talking to her grandmother yesterday, and she said that Rebecca was checking you out.”
“Yeah, Margo told me. She’s nice, but I’m not sure that I can get into that synkinetic surround she’s making. It’s really important to her. You know I’m much more into my epigenetic manipulation.”
“You’re 34, Tim. You aren’t old enough to be making any commitments. You’re just exploring. These women are sweet and convenient here in our pod, but the world is a big place. You’ll find just the right one in time.”
“Right, Mom,” Timmy smiled sardonically.
Suddenly, this multigenerational intentional pod community was too small. He thought of Lisa Glasspool down under, whom he had chatted with at the last epigenetic forum. Now, she was beautiful. And seemed to respect what he had to say. Their conversation seemed synergistic to him.
“Margo,” he said as he walked toward his room, “see if Lisa Glasspool is available to chat sometime today.” He could feel the oxytocin rush lightening his step as he opened the windows of his room and settled into work.
About the author:Bart Main is a child psychiatrist and very long-standing sci-fi aficionado focused on the well-being of our great grandchildren.