Another year gone
Bart had almost managed to put what day it was out of his mind, because he'd never celebrated his birthday in the first place. Not really. Bart-day, as he used to call it, was a minefield of questions he didn't have a right answer to. At least training put most of that thinking off to one side.
Now, he was just trying to figure out what to do with a day most people under thirty would celebrate. He sat on the sky-deck, feeding grapes to Bob, who was his usual ecstatic self about food, and thought. Bart wasn't even really sure how old he was. Developmentally, he was about 22, if you counted the years since his birth, it was a negative number. If you counted non-subjective time, he was turning 6, but if you added the four years on Earth-two....
"I think I'm finally in double digits," he told the bat, who chittered up at him in response.
Now, he was just trying to figure out what to do with a day most people under thirty would celebrate. He sat on the sky-deck, feeding grapes to Bob, who was his usual ecstatic self about food, and thought. Bart wasn't even really sure how old he was. Developmentally, he was about 22, if you counted the years since his birth, it was a negative number. If you counted non-subjective time, he was turning 6, but if you added the four years on Earth-two....
"I think I'm finally in double digits," he told the bat, who chittered up at him in response.