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Electric pulses shot through my body, urging me to remove my VR headset. I groaned, hit the ‘five more minutes’ button, but a sharper pulse reminded me that ignoring it wasn’t an option. I had to eat. I groaned again and removed my headset. My room gradually brightened as automatic curtains opened, revealing the dull grey walls. I scratched my butt and approached the window.&nbsp; 	A drone hovered outside, a metallic finger stretching out to my window to knock. I opened the window. “Hello, Liam. Your lunch is here. A perfect meal to balance what your body needs,” it announced with a cheerful, robotic voice. A light lit-up on the drone telling me to look at my nutrient levels. I peered at my fitness watchI was low on iron, vitamin d (no kidding), calcium, and fibre. Among others, but those were flashing red on my watch’s screen. Another larger metallic arm reached into the drone and passed me my lunch. I nodded the drone away.&nbsp; 	In the box was a nondescript stir-fry–rice, beans, some greens. The rest was hard to distinguish. It was my own fault. I opted for the cheapest food budget so I got the cheapest food. Everyone got food that was customised to their dietary needs, how it tasted, and what it looked like came down to the person’s priorities.&nbsp; 	I used my credits towards the more realistic VR. —a captain of a space crew, far removed from the confines of my small apartment. So realistic I needed the electric pulses to pull me out. Those were not optional. I had read that some of the earlier models didn’t have them and people starved themselves to death.&nbsp; 	I sat cross legged on a hand-crafted cushion that I ordered from a local farmer’s market. I saw no use for much more than that. I preferred being in virtual reality most of the time. Why bother with fancy things in the real world when I can be a captain of my own space crew? The food was passable.&nbsp; 	I was shaken out of my zoned-out eating by a knock at the door. I pushed myself off the floor and walked over to the door of my small bachelor’s apartment. Peering through the peephole I saw a young girl, probably around 9 or 10. “Hi, mister. I’m Elle and I’m selling teas. I made them myself from my mom’s garden.” I wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but I’ve seen the girl and her mom outside before. Though I rarely left my apartment. They were always friendly enough and smiled back when I smiled at them.&nbsp; 	“What sort of teas do you have?” I asked, trying to match her enthusiasm. 	“Umm. Mint. Terrorgon. Lemon. Dandelion,” she listed. It was obvious she was proud that she remembered that list 	“Hmm. Are those all mixed together, or separate?” 	“Separate! But you could mix them yourself.”&nbsp; 	“Sure, I’ll take one of each. How much?”&nbsp; 	“Umm. Maybe three credits?”&nbsp; 	I bit my tongue. Three credits was a lot for some tea, especially since I barely drank it. Supporting a young entrepreneur–and someone who reminded me of my sister and I when we were young– felt worth it. I&nbsp; might have to put in some extra coding time, but that wasn’t a big deal. 	I handed Elle the three credits and took the small bags of tea. “Thanks, mister!” she said. 	“No problem, Elle. Good luck with your sales.” I closed the door, looking at the teas in my hand. I wondered if I’d ever actually drink them. I opened the little mason jars they were stored in and gave them a sniff. The earthy scents were calming. A small smile appeared on my face. That alone was worth the three credits.&nbsp; 	As I returned to my cushion and finished my stirfry my VR headset beckoned me. Yet something about Elle’s visit lingered. The teas, grown in a real garden, seemed to represent a world I had been neglecting.&nbsp; 	I looked around my small bachelor apartment. There was a tiny bathroom, toilet, shower, and sink. No real kitchen other than some cupboards, an air fryer, and a sink to wash the couple dishes I owned. My small bed. And of course my computer..&nbsp; 	I finished my food, put the container outside the window for a drone to retrieve and went to my computer and picked up my VR headset. Colours filled the screen and I was in my ship. My crew awaited orders.&nbsp; 	“Captain, should we enter Galaxy E451? We know nothing of it other than the space pirate’s are using it as their base of operations.” said First Officer Bril, my second-in-command, an alien from Alpha Centauri.&nbsp; 	“Yes, we can’t allow them to get away.” 	“Aye, Captain. On your call, we’ll enter.” 	My mind wandered to the scent of the tea. It evoked a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time.&nbsp; 	“Captain?” 	I took off the headset, stood up, and walked to my kitchen. I think I had a kettle somewhere in here. I opened a cupboard. There were a few coffee cups, a bowl, and a plate.&nbsp; I opened another, a pot that I couldn’t use as I didn’t even have a stovetop. Ahh. The kettle was behind it. I filled it with water and waited for it to boil. The earthy scent of the teas filled my apartment, bringing a strange sense of clarity. 	I paced the apartment and waited for the water to boil. The urge to look outside overcame me. The only time I ever even went to my windows was to get my drone-delivered food.&nbsp; 	I looked out and saw the green rooftops of the neighbouring apartment being pruned by an old man. He waved and smiled when he saw me. I waved back, feeling a twinge of connection. I didn’t know him at all. Down the street I saw kids riding their bikes. Another group of people sat on a patio at the coffee shop I’d go to when I opted to leave the apartment. Someone was playing guitar and singing. I opened the window a bit more and noticed they had a beautiful voice. I saw Elle walking down the street, still selling teas.&nbsp; 	The kettle clicked. I filled a cup with hot water and dug through my cutlery drawer for a loose-leaf holder. I found a frog-shaped one, awkward but functional. I sprinkled in some mint, lemon, and a bit of tarragon. I sprinkled some of the mint and the lemon, and a little bit of terrorgon into the frog. Shut it closed and placed it in the water. How long do I even let it steep for?&nbsp; 	As the scent filled my tiny apartment, I felt a strange sense of clarity. Maybe it was time to rethink my priorities. VR was great, but I never went outside anymore. After my parents died in the hurricane, I moved away from the coast. My sister and her family still live there. I think. I lost touch with the world. 	The smell of the steeping tea made me feel okay. I wasn’t depressed or anything. My life was good. My job was enjoyable, if not lonely. I guess I just allowed myself to isolate myself.&nbsp; 	I grabbed the coffee cup that I put the tea in and slipped on my shoes. I opened my apartment door and went outside. I walked across the street. People zipped by on their bikes. Drones watered the city plants. A bird landed on top of the street sweeper as it cleared dust and debris from the road. I felt alive in a way I hadn’t in years. I was noticing things.&nbsp; 	I walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench that overlooked the river. Automated cleaners pulled garbage from the water and drones grabbed the garbage to bring it to a processing plant. From what I knew, most of the garbage was from decades ago. Not that it all was.&nbsp; 	“Mom! That’s the guy that bought one of each flavour!” Elle’s voice rang out. I turned and she was walking with her mom. I smiled and waved.&nbsp; 	As she got closer, I asked, “Did you manage to sell all of your tea?”&nbsp; 	“Yeah. All of it.” A goofy, prideful, grin filled her face 	“Good job. It’s very good. It really woke me up.” 	She scrunched her eyebrows. “Woke you up? But it's noon.” 	“Elle.” Her mom admonished. 	I chuckled. “Yeah. I’m a bit of a sleepyhead, aren’t I? Let me know the next time you make tea; I’ll get some more.” 	“Of course.” Elle and her mom walked off. I took a sip of the tea. It was hot but drinkable, calming me. I allowed myself to think of my parents, my sister and her family. “I think I’ll connect with some people later. But for now, I’ll just enjoy the moment.”&nbsp;

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Lost at Home

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A short little, solarpunk-ish story. Slice-of-life, in a somewhat futuristic/sci-fi setting

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Lost at Home

SMVLTrudeau

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Lost at Home

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Shawn Trudeau

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