Did you know that the Mayfields have gotten 500 likes? And 35 followers? Crazy right?! I know!
With Anthony now in school and still months to go before the Tre Largo convention, I found myself with quite a lot of time on my hands and nothing to do with it.
I usually check on Anthony and Cloud Flower when they get home from school. I make sure homework is done and I supplement the somewhat-lacking education system. Unfortunately, neither child seems to appreciate their schoolwork at all.
Once homework is done, they children are free to do what they want. Anthony normally runs upstairs to use his personal computer and not the chemistry set. Yes, I am a tad bitter. I would have killed for my own chemistry set when I was five.
Cloud Flower prefers…painting. I always admired how Lucy held a brush and could create a blossoming rose with a few flicks of her wrist. Cloud Flower…well…she has a very different style. She uses a lot of black.
A few days were occupied by redesigning the old nursery into a study for myself and Mortimer. But only three days. It wasn’t even a challenge.
With all the distractions I could think of over and completed, I found myself down in the basement one evening, fiddling with some old mechanisms. I was still in contact with the science facilities of the valley and was pondering the meaning of their latest request.
Dr. Jason Funke was rather tight-lipped about it other than it was a project he didn’t want his brother getting wind of. And with how much trouble Spencer had given my family during that court debacle with his mother…well, perhaps I was feeling a bit spiteful at the time I agreed to the request.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. Or a bit suspicious. I decided to ignore the matter for a while longer.
I found myself wandering around, looking at the collection of oddities my family had amassed over the years.
My collection of inventions from my time fiddling with mechanisms instead of code.
The sarcophagi Donovan had shipped over last year. As a teenager, he was always excited to see new places, regardless of the circumstances that took him there. Now, as an adult, he travels the world. His calls are few and far between, but the last one came not long after the children’s birthdays and was made from Greece.
There was Shaye’s living bug collection. She ritualistically feeds all of them. It’s strange.
Stranger still is her collection of bottles. Some contain wine made by Shaye, some contain whiskey given to her by her “friends”, and some continuously smoke even though corked. The latter seem to just appear on the shelves. I’ve never seen one actually enter the house. And I have a security system installed. Very strange.
I finally found myself in the back of the basement, staring at my old love. I flipped the switch. And quickly became utterly immersed in the world of binary.
Perhaps it’s time to rethink that robot, I mused as my fingers glided over the holographic interface. I have so much time now. There were no diapers to change or meetings to arrange. I didn’t even have to drive Anthony anywhere. He knew how to use the teleporter.
I deconstructed my ideal robotic assistant. What did I want? Laundry to get done without my help. I chuckled, but yes, I wanted a house maid that didn’t need food or money. And maybe something to help Shaye in the garden, I mused. For that, it would need flexible joints, but nothing too flimsy. That waterproof adamantite alloy will do nicely. It was leftover from when my company had tried to design a game console that could be played exclusively underwater. A strange chapter in its history, no doubt about that.
I lost track of time, analyzing bytes of data and 3D representations. Everything will be perfect. It was a mere fact, I knew. As my mind raced down lines of logic, my body descended into a kind of stasis. My eyes tracked binary across the screen, my fingers plucked and pulled at 3D models, but otherwise I didn’t move. Not until Mortimer insisted I eat.
I ate the carbonara, which I assume was delicious, but I didn’t taste it. My brain was too preoccupied to redirect trivial synapses such as those from my taste buds.
“Honey?” Mortimer’s soft voice broke through my great wall of thought, shattering everything. “Did you hear me?”
He seemed excited, but sad. But I didn’t have time to dwell on the play of emotions across his face as I scrambled to collect the trains of thought before they vanished completely. Wait, what did he say?
Mortimer sighed and gave me a small smile. “The diner got its 5th star tonight! I got promoted, sweetheart. Head chef. I’m officially the star chef of a five-star restaurant.”
I choked down the bite of pasta I’d been working on. “That’s great!” That’s the way! The visual sensor should be connected to the tactical feed unit! Where’s my notepad?!
Mortimer sighed again and stood up, gathering dishes as he went. He kissed my forehead as I scribbled on a handy napkin. “That gadget won’t build itself, dear. I’ll clean up. You go change the world.”
Could this be the start of a PLOT!? Oh, snap!
Thanks for reading! ^_^