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Domicile 4.5

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Domicile 4.5
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“And he said, Whereunto shall we liken the kingdom of God? or with what
comparison shall we compare it? It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when it
is sown in the earth, is less than all the seeds that be in the earth: But when it is
sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great
branches; so that the fowls of the air may lodge under the shadow of it.”
– Mark 4:30–2
The morning was flowing in through the eastern facing windows, hot white light that was
being filtered through the tri-weave diamond panes inset in the fine faux-wood frames. Inside
each pane, invisible micro filaments picked up a small percentage of those errant photons, those
troublesome subatomic particles that weren’t quite particles or waves, and channeled them down
to the basement where they were stored in the house’s main generator. In the kitchen, Martha
was busy heating up a pan of water that would soon be dedicated to the boiling of some eggs for
their Sunday brunch. Gerald, her husband, and their little Timmy, who would be arriving home
at any moment, were known to get hungry at about this time.
In the den, the aforementioned Gerald sat and read from a copy of The Times. The single
page was unfolded in front of him, text and streaming video moving about and giving him the
day’s events. International news was proving depressing on this fine day, so a simple verbal
command changed it immediately.
“Sports,” he said softly. The pictures and text immediately changed, only the title and the
days date, and the cost of the circular, still apparent at the top. Within moments, his senses were
distracted by the smell of browning toast and hot eggs coming from the kitchen. He smiled when
he realized that fresh cheese was being brought out as well, and his mouth began to water in
anticipation.
The stove moved deliberately slow, drawing photons from the house’ generator to power
what appeared to be an old-fashioned electrical appliance, but what was in reality a superior
nanotech model. Every element was constructed of super resilient metals that had very little
atomic weight and required very little energy to heat. Thus energy was applied slowly and
evenly to give it the feel of an old-style cooker, the kind that took minutes or even hours to heat
something to the point where it was edible or could be cooked with.
There was a sudden pounding at the door. Gerald and Martha both looked up to see their
son standing there, his arms laden with all kinds of materials. Gerald was quick to his feet,
chivalrously volunteering to let him in so Martha could continue cooking. When the door
opened (a slight breeze coming in due to a temporary change in pressure from the perfectly
climate-controlled interior) he noticed that his son was indeed heavily laden. His arms were
stuffed with what appeared to be scholastic reading materials, sports equipment of various kinds
and personal items. And at his feet, the petmodel they had named Rufus was impatiently
walking around his legs.
“Come in, son! Come in Rufus!” he said to them both. The model Rufus obliged and his
son did as he was told as well, the result of internal compulsion and not embedded voice
command software. “How was your morning?”
“Oh fine,” he said, putting all his things down at once in the corner. “Why you insist on
sending me to such a primitive academy is beyond me, though.”
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