Fic: Love in the Modern Era (writerverse)
Title: Love in the Modern Era
Fandom: original
Prompts: Trials and Tribulations & Automated Romance for Prompt 02: Weekly Quick Fic #1 at writerverse
Word Count: 585
Rating: R (in a wink wink nudge nudge sort of way)
My mother despairs of me ever marrying. Once, I tried telling her once that I was married to my job and it was enough for me so why wasn't it enough for her. She cried for four hours straight.
"I'm not getting any younger," she told me on our last call. I offered up an article I'd found where scientists in the Dibyila Quadrant think they've successfully found a way to reverse human aging. Of course, they can only do it the one time so you die a squalling infant instead of a angry octagenerian. I think I'm taking my chances only going the one way toward death because who wants to go through the teenage hormonal imbalance the opposite way?
The conversation, mostly one way, only made her start crying again. Seriously, I mentioned that she might want to see a doctor just in case she's having her own case of imbalanced hormones. She murmured something about not being the one who was imbalanced and signed off.
If I was the sort of person who liked going out with drinks after work with colleagues and making agitated small talk, it might be easier for me to date. As it is, I only ever see my colleagues when something's wrong with the air coolant system or it's time to swap out the waste chambers.
The argument But I'm orbiting Earth's atmosphere has never worked for my mother. She only answers back with, "No one meets in person any longer. You can have an internet romance." Because that worked so well for Uncle Harold who is now selling watches out of the trunk of his car because someone stole his identity and ruined it pretty severely before giving it back. He's got an appeal before the Chancellor of North America coming up sometime in the next century so here's hoping he can eke out a living on one of the free colonies they've set up for indigents on the Nevada Peninsula.
What my mother doesn't understand, and what I will never tell her, is that I'm perfectly happy where I'm at, both in life and in location. I've got a great job that makes me feel needed. I'm utilizing all of my education, not something that everyone can say in these days of high unemployment. I've got time to read to my heart's content and no one pesters me with mindless conversation.
A series of beeps reminds me of my appointment as I send the newest letter to my mother. Just in time. I push the keyboard back into the wall but keep the remote handy as I settle my chair back in the reclined position.
"Would Madam like me to dim the lights?"
"Yes, please." This is really the one thing that my mother will never understand. Who needs some nervous guy on the screen, attempting to find something we've got in common, when I'm surrounded by the latest gadgetry and robotics that respond to my every whim? Of course, my mother would probably think my every whim to be a tad kinky but I've always had a thing for AIs, especially now that they make them look so lifelike. Whenever I get tired of their faces or personalities, I can make them new ones. It's like having my own little harem of men and women who will do everything I want them to do. I have no desire or inclination to date when I've already found my happily ever after up among the stars.
Fandom: original
Prompts: Trials and Tribulations & Automated Romance for Prompt 02: Weekly Quick Fic #1 at writerverse
Word Count: 585
Rating: R (in a wink wink nudge nudge sort of way)
My mother despairs of me ever marrying. Once, I tried telling her once that I was married to my job and it was enough for me so why wasn't it enough for her. She cried for four hours straight.
"I'm not getting any younger," she told me on our last call. I offered up an article I'd found where scientists in the Dibyila Quadrant think they've successfully found a way to reverse human aging. Of course, they can only do it the one time so you die a squalling infant instead of a angry octagenerian. I think I'm taking my chances only going the one way toward death because who wants to go through the teenage hormonal imbalance the opposite way?
The conversation, mostly one way, only made her start crying again. Seriously, I mentioned that she might want to see a doctor just in case she's having her own case of imbalanced hormones. She murmured something about not being the one who was imbalanced and signed off.
If I was the sort of person who liked going out with drinks after work with colleagues and making agitated small talk, it might be easier for me to date. As it is, I only ever see my colleagues when something's wrong with the air coolant system or it's time to swap out the waste chambers.
The argument But I'm orbiting Earth's atmosphere has never worked for my mother. She only answers back with, "No one meets in person any longer. You can have an internet romance." Because that worked so well for Uncle Harold who is now selling watches out of the trunk of his car because someone stole his identity and ruined it pretty severely before giving it back. He's got an appeal before the Chancellor of North America coming up sometime in the next century so here's hoping he can eke out a living on one of the free colonies they've set up for indigents on the Nevada Peninsula.
What my mother doesn't understand, and what I will never tell her, is that I'm perfectly happy where I'm at, both in life and in location. I've got a great job that makes me feel needed. I'm utilizing all of my education, not something that everyone can say in these days of high unemployment. I've got time to read to my heart's content and no one pesters me with mindless conversation.
A series of beeps reminds me of my appointment as I send the newest letter to my mother. Just in time. I push the keyboard back into the wall but keep the remote handy as I settle my chair back in the reclined position.
"Would Madam like me to dim the lights?"
"Yes, please." This is really the one thing that my mother will never understand. Who needs some nervous guy on the screen, attempting to find something we've got in common, when I'm surrounded by the latest gadgetry and robotics that respond to my every whim? Of course, my mother would probably think my every whim to be a tad kinky but I've always had a thing for AIs, especially now that they make them look so lifelike. Whenever I get tired of their faces or personalities, I can make them new ones. It's like having my own little harem of men and women who will do everything I want them to do. I have no desire or inclination to date when I've already found my happily ever after up among the stars.