Chapter 3: Back in the Real

I came awake to find I was lying on a soft, clean pillow. Moving my arms, I felt the smooth soft-linen sensation of clean sheets. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept in a real bed. It was morning and the bedroom I found myself in was lit with the soft sunlight through the pleated ivory window shades. I blinked my eyes fully open and recognized where I was. It was my bedroom in my home. My original home on the acreage in the middle of the Great Plains of North America.

I stretched and took a deep breath. Aside from the minor aches and pains which were normal for a man in his seventh decade, I felt pretty good. Much better than when I had been living in a tent just a day or ... I suddenly realized that I had no idea how long ago that had been. I could have spent years in bio-suspension for all I knew.

I soon noticed that I was clean. My skin felt tingly and freshly scrubbed. I ran my fingers through my hair and beard. Both were still long but they had clearly been given a wash and trim. I noticed the nails on my fingers had been trimmed and my hands were clean.

I lifted the bedding and saw that my body was unclothed. No sign of IVs or other medical devices either, which was nice. It had been years since I had been able to sleep in the nude and it felt wonderful. I had grown used to wearing the long underwear at all times, not just to stay warm but in case I needed to move quickly in the night.

My genealogy amulet was still hanging on its light alloy chain around my neck. I lifted it so I could focus on it and saw that it had also been cleaned and polished. I was relieved to find that it had not been taken from me or altered.

I lay still for a moment just listening. The house was silent. Either I was alone or else everyone was being very quiet. I was able to hear the wind blowing outside which was normal for the high prairie location of my acreage. My full bladder finally elevated its status to the top of the list and I got up to use the toilet.

When I had finished, I stood in front of the large mirror inspecting myself. Who was this old guy staring back at me? Although I had been scrubbed clean and my hair and beard neatened, the body I saw in front of me still looked tired and worn out. My skin was leathery and was covered with both old and newer scars although they were mostly minor and long since healed.

A new toothbrush and mint toothpaste were waiting where I usually stored such items, so I brushed my teeth. It felt wonderful to use a regular toothbrush instead of my finger or a soft stick. The auto-flosser felt even better. I thought about taking a shower right then but decided to inspect the house first and maybe find something to eat to break my fast. Besides, I had gotten used to going for weeks between bathing. Skipping a shower this morning would not bother me in the slightest.

Back in my room, I found the wardrobe was filled with garments of the type I’d normally worn every day. I dressed in clean underwear, socks, denim-like pants, and a long-sleeved tee-shirt. I spent a moment marveling at the feeling of the new and clean clothing. I looked around and did not see my old worn utility clothing or my fur-lined hide cape. I wondered what had happened to them.

I stopped in the living room on my way to the kitchen. It was much as I recalled from the last time I had been here. I looked at the images of my family hanging on the walls. So many new young faces! Some of the older members looked different, having changed shells.

On another wall, there was a large portrait that showed my entire clan as if we had all posed together. It must have been created using the machine’s fakery, as I was never physically with them all at the same time. In fact, I was pretty sure that at least a quarter of them I had never met in person.

The shelf on the far wall held the same trinkets and momentous as it did from the last time I had been here. I tried to remember how long ago that had been. More than twenty or thirty years at least. I had stopped coming here as often, as time marched on.

The visits had started to slow down when the acreage had begun to be visited by historically-minded new humans on their discovery tours and pilgrimages. I began to avoid my old home partially because I wanted to respect their right to play tourist and because their visits had made the place feel less like mine.

I had also had some pretty sweet aircraft over the years, most of which had more than all the comforts of home. With almost the whole world now a natural paradise, why live in a fixed place when you can set down anywhere the view is good. I’d traveled, shacked up, visited offspring, boated ... you name it ... time passed quickly. I had also built other homes around the planet, some of which I missed more than others.

Still, I was happy to see the old house well-kept and clean. There was no dust or mildew, so someone or something had been keeping up with the chores. I saw out the front window that it looked to be a nice partly-cloudy typical fall day. There was no snow on the ground yet and it would be a month or two before the weather was consistently cold enough for anything white to stick around.

I hadn’t smelled anything coming from the kitchen when I had awoken so I guess breakfast was up to me. Entering the kitchen, I found a note on the table.

I frowned at what I had just read. I guess I could live with what they had done. I was a bit surprised that I had not found Ohmu here waiting for me to awake. The AI must fear that I would react harshly. I was not exactly sure how I would have reacted. I could still feel the emotions and shock of the recent events of ... well, I was not sure when the tragedy in Mongolia had happened.

I assumed it was a day or two ago but who knows how long I was unconscious. Air transport from Mongolia to South Dakota could take as little as an hour or most of the day, depending upon the urgency required and the type of air or spacecraft used. I had not remained awake long enough to see the aircraft which had come for me, so I had no way of knowing how fast it had brought me here.

“What day is it?” I spoke to the air.

“It is 7:45 a.m., Friday, October 4, 3112,” a neutral-sounding automated voice said. The words had come from the refrigerator which was just an appliance. Naomi was still adhering to my mandate.

Friday, October 4^th. Let’s see. I had been sedated Wednesday morning before being brought here. I had been kept asleep all day yesterday while they poked, prodded, bathed, and groomed me. It bothered me that I had been kept under for a full day and a half but there was not much I could do about that now. I had practically begged the AI to bring me here after all. I guess I could not blame it for seeing to my medical and cleanliness needs while it had the chance.

Inside the refrigerator, I found enough food for a week’s worth of meals. Some of the items were in the generic containers with minimal labeling which meant they had been locally replicated. Others appeared to have the type of fancy labeling or packaging that meant they had been grown or prepared in the old-fashioned way, by actual human farmers and chefs.

In this new era, some humans had rediscovered the love and satisfaction of cooking and farming. Now, there was a small but thriving market for specialty foodstuffs. I grabbed a bottle of sauce on the rack and inspected its label. “Piper’s Pickled Pepper Sauce,” I muttered. The picture below the label had a small fireball coming out of a turtle’s mouth.

Why there was a turtle on the logo I had no idea. Still, I was curious and put the bottle with the other ingredients and items I was assembling. I added a loaf of unsliced bread (apparently humanity still had things to relearn), two eggs, and a few strips of what I thought was genuine hickory-smoked bacon. I made myself a breakfast of toast with bacon and eggs, spicy style.

I had to admit that Piper’s hot sauce was good. It lacked the kick of Tabasco but had a much better flavor. After I finished, I sat in the quiet familiar house and sipped my coffee. I felt ... well, I guess I felt almost human again.

Later in the morning, I slipped on an old favorite jacket (probably a copy) and a new pair of work boots which I found in the hall closet. Outside, I began to explore my old acreage. As I had suspected when I had looked out the window, I found that the yard had been immaculately maintained.

Being fall, the trees had just begun to drop their colorful leaves, but the grass was still green and had been recently cut. The lack of leaves on the ground indicated that who or whatever had done the yardwork had also collected and reduced the leaf litter as well. There was a good possibility that the replicated portions of my breakfast had been created using the leaf biomatter.

The front porch was as I had last remembered it. There was only the one rocker now as the others had been removed almost a century ago. Since this place now existed primarily for historical tourism, the solitary porch chair had been retained to make the place seem more like it was when I had lived here before the apocalypse of 2021. At least they had not gone so far as to have a metal bucket of empty beer bottles next to the chair as had been common back then.

I strolled down the smooth gravel-covered drive heading towards the paved road which fronted the acreage. The trees along each side of the drive were fully mature except for the occasional younger replacement saplings. The colors of their leaves were amazing. The red maples were a sharp contrast to the evergreens and the tan of the bur oaks.

I realized suddenly that my restored acreage had been here for a century and a half. That meant that the first trees had long since reached full maturity and replacements had been needed. It also occurred to me that this recreation was now almost twice as old as my original acreage had been back when ‘the reset’ had destroyed it. I shook my head, amazed.

At the end of the gravel driveway, I checked my mailbox and found it empty. I smiled when I recalled that over a century ago, when I had spent much more time here and had been on better terms with the AI, I had often found random mail in the box.

The AI would produce automobile extended warranty notices or other junk mail and leave it for my amusement. Once, I had found a yardwork bill which had overdue charges compiling for over seven decades. It was empty today though, much like me, I noted ironically.

I turned from the mailbox and looked slowly around. The paved road leading to the east eventually looped around and became a winding trail that ended at my small lake cabin located a mile north of my current location. The trail route itself was about two miles long as it meandered and was a great path for jogging or biking. I remembered how the kids had loved to ride their floating lev-boards on the perfectly maintained pavement.

To the south of the frontage road was a mowed grassy ditch. Beyond that, the short, mowed grass abruptly became the natural tall grasses and wildflowers which dominated the upper prairie. The ring of sentry pylons just beyond the horizon kept the large herds of buffalo away, so this grass was never grazed or cropped properly.

The pylons also acted as the last line of deterrent that kept any larger predators far away from the area surrounding my homestead. There was little fear of neo-bears here. A third benefit of the pylons was that they prevented any wildfire danger so the tall, thick grass was mostly harmless and presented little actual fire risk.

I stood for a moment just watching the tall grass wave gently in the light prairie wind. It reminded me of the ocean which I suddenly realized I missed more than I expected. Maybe a few months on a beach at Heels in the Sand should be my next plan. I saw a flicker of movement in the distance, probably a jackrabbit or fox.

Heading west from my drive was a more recently constructed paved road. This one headed over the hill and on to the location of the mostly underground facility which had replaced Picket’s old bunker. The replacement facility was only partially above ground and was much larger than Picket’s farm had once been. Good old Picket; may he rest in hell. He had been my neighbor before the reset but had also been an agent of our enemy, the Assemblage.

Back to the field base. Its current function was as a local base for various bits of automation which maintained the ecology of the area. There was also an aircraft landing area and a visitor’s lodge where new humans could stay when they took historical pilgrimage tours to my home. I wondered if any tourist had had to be sent away when I asked that I be brought here a day ago. Oh well, this was my home first. They could wait. Chances are I’d be leaving soon again anyway.

I recalled from the note I’d found in the kitchen that there were two people at the base lodge waiting to speak with me. “Not today,” I muttered to myself as I turned back to continue inspecting my acreage. From the road, the house looked much like it did when I had lived here over a thousand years ago. The garage off to the side was the same. The front porch, the picket fences, and the flower gardens (although now with far fewer weeds) were mostly the same.

I shifted my gaze to the far back corner of my property. There sat the only major change from the original acreage. It was a tall, red-painted Gothic-style barn. This was a recreation of the beautiful old, curved-roof barn that once stood on Picket’s neighboring acreage. That wonderful barn had collapsed and burned the night of the attack when Picket had launched his small escape rocket out of it.

To pay homage to its style and craftsmanship, I had had the AI reconstruct it, but this time within the bounds of my old acreage. The tall arched roof that made up most of the barn held a huge, cavernous open hay mount that I had converted to an exercise and play area when I had lived here with my children and grandchildren.

The barn’s more-intimate lower level had once had stalls that housed a few neo-horses and ponies. Two of my daughters had kept neo-horses in the barn and later, I had kept a few ponies for the grandchildren. I doubted there were any living animals still housed in the barn at this time but I had better go take a look.

As I walked past my house and back towards the barn I saw that its red paint looked streaked and weathered. I smiled as this was exactly as intended. The AI had gone to great lengths to print the exterior coloring as weathered. It was actually a very robust coating that would last a lot longer than I’d probably be around to admire it.

The rest of the barn looked old and worn but this was just more fakery as those parts were also in perfect condition. The sashes with their now-unbreakable composite crystalline panes were intact. The roof had its tarnished galvanized-looking cupola and rusty metal rooster weathervane. I smiled as the vane rotated in the breeze, complete with an authentic squeak. That it had squeaked exactly like that for almost a century and a half was a testament to the AI’s engineering and maintenance skills.