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Chapter One
Sometime in the near future…
“What do the stars say for today,” I ask the universal computer as I went into the kitchen. There was something in the air that felt…different.
“Happy Birthday, Acedia!” it chirped over the home speakers. “The stars predict you will meet new friends.”
“Doubtful,” I replied with a sigh, getting a cup of water. “I already know everyone who matters.”
“You do?” my computer responded, faking interest and surprise. “You must be popular with your friends.”
Despite knowing that the Ai didn’t feel like humans did, I pretended that it understood my sentiments and cared.
“I am!” I said, leaning against the counter. “But today is my 21st birthday, and I will be hosting my annual party, so maybe the prediction will come true.” I shrugged. “Maybe someone will bring a visiting relative, or I’ll meet a new member of our little city. Did we get any new members added to the population register?”
“No, Acedia. No new members.”
“Too bad.” I sighed. “Are my parents coming to my party?”
“They declined the invitation.”
Of course they did. “Did they say why?”
“They left a note. Would you like me to read it to you?”
“Yes, please.”
“We attended the first twenty. That should be enough. Let us know when you throw a departure party. Those are a bit more interesting.”
I frowned at their asinine logic. I would likely attend their departure parties before arranging my own. Though, I had heard that more and more twenty-somethings were ceasing their existence early, hoping that there was something more interesting in the afterlife. But I didn’t want to go out like that. Not yet.
With collective health and equanimity being what it was, humans lived so long that occasionally some would choose to commit suicide out of the sheer boredom that was life. They didn’t want to wait to die naturally of old age, hence the departure parties. It was a person’s big send off before they offed themselves by jumping from a cliff or whatever, dying in such a way that the Ai couldn’t prevent, nor the medical bots could repair.
“That’s too bad,” I finally offered, suppressing my disappointment. “Who will be coming then?”
“None have yet accepted. There were a few more noted declines. Would you like me to read those?”
Strange. Everyone enjoyed last year’s butterfly party.
“No. Please just call Blasé.”
A holographic screen materialized in the air before me. A moment later, my best friend appeared. I spoke before she could offer greeting.
“Why aren’t you coming?” I demanded.
She yawned and stretched out on her bed. “I’m tired, and I went to last year’s party.”
“So? You’re my best friend.”
“Look, last year your birthday was the social event of the season because no one had done anything like it before. But people are too tired to attend a butterfly show they’ve already seen. Plus, it’s too hot to wear a garden cocktail dress for an afternoon socializing in a field.”
I stared out the window. It seemed so nice out. Did no one enjoy nice weather anymore? “But you all loved the butterflies,” I complained. “And we have amazing ones to release this year. We have different species—”
“Yes,” Blasé interrupted, “but we also had our own house bots plant personal butterfly gardens. Now we can have the same experience from the comfort of our home.”
“That’s boring,” I insisted.
“The open areas beyond the city are boring,” she countered. “There is nothing to look at but trees and grass and wildflowers.”
