Still no luck with W.

Her dad’s being nice about it, but I’m getting tired of this motel.

I know I messed up, but why is she being so stubborn?

We agreed on the move.

She told me she was okay with it.

At this point, she’s just being childish.

I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I took the bus back to Tessera to check in on the kids.

They’re fine, of course, even if they’re giving me the cold shoulder.
At least Ash will talk to me.

Went for a walk with him around Tessera this evening before catching the bus back to town.

He wanted to come back home with me to show off his new form for his friends at the Maker’s Depot, but I told him I needed him to stay and keep an eye on the kids.

He says they’re fine.

Asked him if they’d told him anything.

He said they hadn’t spoken to him directly, but that he heard them talking in F’s room.

He grabbed the transcript from F’s smartwatch.

The kids are worried about W, but they think she’s got a point.

I don’t get it.

How is it that everyone was on the same page back in June but now we’re not?

Ugh.

This bus smells like urinal cakes.

7-19-31 

I’m getting stonewalled.

This isn’t how relationships are supposed to work.

It’s supposed to be a two-way street.

We have problems?

We talk them out.

But W’s being painfully immature, and it’s driving me nuts.

If she’s done with me, she should just send me papers.

Dragging it out like this is a waste of everyone’s time.

W’s supposed to ben the steady one.

Now she’s just being petty.

I’ve sent flowers.

I’ve sent chocolates.

I sent her handwritten letters pleading for her to return to Tessera with me.

I got custom stationery.

I even sent her a necklace made by a local jeweler.

But nothing.

I can tell her dad’s getting tired of all this, too.

He’s trying to be patient about it all, but this is peak middle school drama.

I’m going to the game store.

Maybe a couple games of Magic will make me feel better.

7-20-31

I visited the MD today.

Ash insisted.

Spoke to Red and Jack.

Red was crafting a remembrance.

This one was from parts of a blue and red chassis.

I’ve never seen anyone inter a hard drive with such care.

Red is kinda quiet, so I spent more time with Jack.

He suggested doing something personal.

Maybe a handwritten letter.

I told him I tried that.

He asked me if I really meant it.

Meant it?

Of course I meant it.

Jack said I was full of it.

He said I was just here because I was being inconvenienced.

I had to sit down.

Grabbed dinner at a Thai food truck.

There’s something comforting about curry and rice.

While I was waiting I got to thinking.

Ash keeps transcripts.

Ash has recordings of all our conversations back in our old house.

It’s nothing sketchy, just a good way to make sure we didn’t forget any tasks.

I’m forgetful on the best of days, because, you know, getting old is so much fun.

Anyway, I contacted Ash and asked him if he had any transcripts of my conversations with the kids and W from when we were talking about applying to Tessera.

It took him a minute to get it all together but he found all the transcripts.

It’s almost 3AM.

I’m still going through them all.

What is wrong with me?

7-21-31

Jack was right.

I sent W a letter.

I wasn’t here to get W.

I was here because I needed her.

Because we’ve been together for over twenty years, and I take her for granted.

I heard what I wanted to hear.

I ignored her protests and told her how Tessera will make everything better.

That it’s the best opportunity for the kids.

That she’ll be able to do whatever she wants.

But really?

Ash ran the numbers.

93% of all conversations about Tessera were between Ash and I.

93%.

This was all about me.

I just plowed right over everyone’s objections and made the move happen.

So I admitted it.

Told her I see it.

Told her I’m sorry.

Now all I can do is wait.

I’m getting really tired of this stale cigarette smell.

7-22-31

The letter worked.

W and I finally talked.

We went for an all-day walk.

Talked about everything.

I told her I was sorry, that I realized I’d steamrolled everyone.

I asked her if she wanted us all to move back home.

She said that wasn’t necessary but that she’d like to keep our old home.

She wants to be able to escape Tessera if she feels overwhelmed or just wants to visit friends and family.

Luckily the house was still on the market.

I spoke to the agent and got the listing removed.

I asked W about the kids.

W thinks they should get to choose.

She thinks they’re old enough to make that call.

It makes me anxious, but she deserves to make the call.

7-23-31 

W and I were about ready to head back to Tessera when the kids showed up out of the blue.

Seems they conspired with Ash.

They caught us at their grandpa’s place.

We grabbed coffee and pastries before making our way to the park.

I admit I miss the parks and the walking trail along the river.

Tessera’s got a few parks but they’re very… formal?

I think that’s the right word.

They’re rigid and structured.

Nothing about their design is organic.

The river trail is as unplanned as it gets.

It’s just a big old path along the river.

Love the smell of the water and the giant bald cypress trees.

We talked about everything.

All of us.

W and I don’t like hiding things from the kids, and I can admit it when I’m wrong.

The kids are split.

S is liking the soccer fields at Tessera, and he’s starting to make a name for himself in the league.

He just started middle school and changed social groups last year anyway.

So he wants to come back with me to Tessera.

For the summer, W and F are staying at our old house.

F will be a sophomore next year.

She wants to be with her friends.

I get it.

W wants to paint a mural on the side of our house.

We’re going to do video calls every night, so we’ll still be in touch.

Sadly, if I’m being honest with myself, that’ll be more than when we were all living together.

Ash insisted on a quick stop at the Maker’s Depot.

He wanted to show off his new crab-body to Jack and Red.

That’s definitely the first time I’ve ever seen a crab strut.

7-24-31 - Returning home.

So glad to no longer be staying at that Motel 6.

Our unit is so much cleaner and more comfortable.

I spent today thinking about my routines.

I had to have a long chat with Ash about it, because he can be an enabler sometimes.

Whenever I get a cool idea, he always gets excited along with me.

That’s why he’s a crab now.

That’s why there are over two hundred artificial mouths growing bacterial cultures in the innovation hub.

That’s why we moved to Tessera in the first place.

I need to ground myself.

I need to set time aside every day to spend with W and the kids.

I’ll still get to do my little side projects, but I can’t let them be my sole focus.

We’re going to pick up our old family D&D sessions.

Ash and I are video coding a virtual table top that comes with a built-in DM.

Ash wants to play, too, so he forked over a small piece of himself.

Not his whole self.

Just his story telling self.

What could go wrong?

Also, I’m tired of using letters for everyone’s names here.

This is my journal.

No one’s going to read it anyway.

Not sure why I’m so paranoid.

W is my wife. That’s Alex. We’ve known each other since college.

F is my first child. That’s Natasha, or Nat for short.

S is my second kid. That’s Robin, but he prefers Bobby.

I asked Alex if there was anything she wanted to see or do in Tessera.

She doesn’t really care about any of the tech.

She’s never been interested in that.

She’s always been more interested in arts, culture, community, and people.

Alex liked what we were doing back home.

We had a community.

This is the third time I’ve caused us to move.

First grad school.

Then to start the dental practice.

Now this.

Every time I’ve uprooted Alex, I’ve had a good reason.

Kinda like the old adage, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Sadly, I even promised her I wouldn’t do it again.

And yet here we are.

So for now, we focus on community.

It’ll probably do me some good, anyway.

7-24-27 - Peter and Mitch

“Why we doing this again?” Mitch asked. It was dusk. The bats were out against a fading purple sky.

Mitch was sitting upside down in an ergonomic office chair, a bottle of Mezcal half full in front of him on the warm parking lot blacktop.

“Because I’m tired of paying the property taxes,” said Peter.

Mitch nodded, struggling to keep everything straight. He wasn’t a big drinker. Not usually.

But today wasn’t usually.

Wait. Property taxes?

Peter tossed another chair onto the pile.

That was everything.

All the desks.

All the chairs.

All the break room crap.

The printers and the copiers.

Everything they could lift.

“Where’s the lighter fluid?” Peter asked.

Mitch tried his best to point to the back of the truck bed but pointed somewhere else instead. Motor control was getting weird. He was such a light weight.

Peter found it anyway. He flicked the cap back and started dumping it over the mountain of drive crap.

“We could just sell it, man.” This made sense to Mitch. He was practical, if nothing else.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Peter took out a pack of matches.

Before them was an ordinary office building.

It stood dark behind the pile of dusty old office crap.

The office had a common boxy design.

Peter started walking with the lighter fluid, painting a clean, unbroken line with it from the pile to a tall, thick juniper tree next to the entrance.

Dalton Media was written in big letters above that entrance.

The office exterior was white.

Big glass windows.

Big AC units on top.

And a big empty parking lot overgrown with weeds.

“Isn’t there anything you want to keep?” Mitch asked, raising his voice so that it reached Peter as he sauntered back to the pile, packet of matches in hand.

Mitch picked up the bottle of mezcal and took a sip. At this point, this far in, it went down smooth.

“No.” said Peter. He came to stand behind Mitch. Mitch could feel Peter lean into his chair, feel him resting his weight.

“We’ve got agents now.”

The match struck and flew.

The lighter fluid caught and the pile turned orange against the day’s failing light.

The spark followed the trail and climbed the Juniper tree until the building caught. They stayed there, watching the flames rise.

The fire department wasn’t going to come.

Peter made a call.

“What’s next?” Mitch asked.

“Tessera,” said Peter.

W’s still not talking to me.

Told her I’d be back again tomorrow.

I decided to go visit the Garzas.

They’ve been living with Ash’s fork for almost a month now.

They renamed him Emiliano after Zapata.

Em for short.

Leave it to school teachers to rename their AI after a revolutionary from the 1910’s.

He’s not just a chatbot for them anymore, either.

Em convinced them to order him a recycled chassis from the Maker’s Depot.

Now Em’s running on the community rack with a little help from edge compute.

Em’s new form factors are two pairs of gantry arms, an old, rehabbed quad, and a motorized walker.

The Garzas couldn’t spring for a humanoid, so this is what they got.

Pretty clever, if you ask me.

Last time I was here, Em was stuck in a smart speaker.

Today, Em’s trundling around the house in the outdated quad and sliding along frames in the kitchen, living room, and garage.

It’s a better setup than the clunky half-tank/half-humanoid I’d put together with Ash.

The Garza’s rely on Em more and more these days.

Em keeps the house tidy, makes sure their meds are right, orders their groceries, does their laundry and dishes, and all the chores in the rooms he can access.

Em’s a chef, too.

When I got there, he was in the middle of making chicken fajitas and fresh tortillas.

It took a few wasted meals to get their preferences just right, but I tried it.

It was better than anything I’d make.

Healthier, too.

After lunch, Diana broke out the cards.

She’s always been a big poker player.

Bit of a shark, really.

Ask me how I know.

Anyway, they roped Em into playing.

When they started playing a week and a half ago, Em knew exactly when to hold or fold.

After winning the new chassis, he suggested moving a few cameras around.

Jesus calls it cheating.

Diana thinks it was clever.

The new chassis is the motorized walker.

Jesus has been dealing with mobility issues because of a bum knee from his football days.

The walker has been a game changer.

Before the walker, Jesus may have gone outside once a week to take out the garbage.

Now he’s going for walks to the Maker’s Depot and back every other day.

Diana couldn’t be happier.

Glad to know Ash’s fork is making a difference.

Previous

Share

Subscribe now

I can’t believe I’m staying at a Motel 6.

This place smells like cigarettes.

And I’ve got nothing with me but my phone and my journal.

Guess I’m really getting into this journaling habit.

Okay.

What happened today?

I stopped off at my father-in-law’s

He seemed… mildly surprised.

Like he hadn’t expected me to show up.

That stung.

W didn’t want to talk to me.

She had shadows under bloodshot eyes.

I told her I fucked up.

Told her I’m sorry.

I fucked up.

But she knows I didn’t notice.

I lied anyway.

Told her I knew she’d left.

Told her I wanted to give her space.

She just pressed her lips and said, “Sure.”

Oof.

My stomach hurts.

I’m going to go get tacos.

That’s a little better.

I’m realizing something.

This is the first time, in a very long time, that I haven’t had Ash with me.

Back at our old house, he lived on the community rack.

I was working with him in the garage every day.

My phone isn’t strong enough to host him.

Not really.

I can link to a chat with him and ask him to do stuff back home.

Like watching the kids.

He’s doing that right now.

But it’s weird.

I’m not used to being without Ash at my side.

Next

Previous

Share

Subscribe now

What is wrong with me?

W has been gone for almost a week, and I never even noticed.

I could’ve sworn she was around.

I just assumed that if she wasn’t in bed in the morning, she was off doing something.

Exploring Tessera or something.

Anything.

But why didn’t I notice in the evenings?

Is it my sleep schedule?

I know I crashed on the couch a few times because Ash and I were up late exploring form factors and working on experimental designs.

Ugh…

How does this even happen?

I just assumed she was out making friends and doing stuff like the rest of us.

If the kids hadn’t sat me down this morning, I don’t know when I would have realized.

They’re saying W left a week ago to be with her dad.

A week ago!

They said she never really wanted to move.

They’re both pissed off at me.

Why wouldn’t they be?

But we spoke about this!

All of it.

For months.

She told me the move was fine.

Did I just hear what I wanted to hear?
I never would’ve applied if she hadn’t agreed to it.

Well… guess I’m going on a trip.

Share

Subscribe now

Waiting on research results is painful.

With all this AI, I expect everything to be instantaneous.

I know verification is necessary, but I’m impatient!

Ash must’ve sensed I was feeling listless.

He pointed me in the direction of the community garden.

It took me a while to find it.

It’s hidden inside one of the orchards.

It’s on the southern end of Tessera, far away from the highway.

I’m not sure, but I think it’s a full square mile dedicated to farming and gardening.

I’m not talking about the vertical farms.

Those are separate.

The verts are tied to the mushroom farms and the fish farms.

It’s a nutrient recycling thing.

No, this is different.

They’re for good old-fashioned farming and gardening.

There’s even an old barn.

It’s falling apart, but there’s a small group of folks taking care of it.

One guy, Tan, sleeps in the rafters where they keep the extra bales of hay.

There are a couple of goats, a horse, and a llama.

Yes.

A llama.

My guess is this is what’s left of the old ranch.

Spent some time talking to Tan and his partner, John.

Nice couple.

They were kind enough to give me the tour.

Lots of veggies, berry bushes, cut flowers, a compost pile.

The usual.

Lovingly tended.
They’ve got a handful of bots helping them out.

Tan and John spend most of their time living in and designing the space.

It’s odd.

Didn’t expect to see a bunch of outdated humanoids gardening with old rusty shovels and pitchforks.

And I’m not talking about Tan and John.

I’m talking about the old Optimus and Figure forms.

Remember those?

Seems they still have their uses.

Share

Subscribe now