Podcasting

I appeared in the sky roughly four metres above where my house used to be. I quickly realised that at least gravity was still hanging around, and that I hadn’t screwed that up too. Luckily, my house was now a crystal clear lake, which softened my fall. I floundered my way to the surface, suddenly remembering at an opportune time that I wasn’t the swimming type, and added it to my mental list.

Dripping, I surveyed the land. My house was gone, and so was the neighbourhood. Gently rolling hills extended from the lake, a natural centre of the park. Trimmed shrubbery lined smooth, grey paths, along which strolled suited women walking pods with small dogs trotting alongside. A lawnmower was quietly clipping each rebellious grass blade that dared poke its pointed head above the rest. There was no obvious operator, or even a means of operation. I walked up in front of it, and it smoothly rolled around me, studiously enveloped in its menial task.

As I strolled up the hillside, I took the chance to peer into a passing pod. A small, red baby was sleeping, cocooned in blankets. A screen on the pod measured the inside temperature as twenty-four degrees. The mother, well, walker – I couldn’t be sure whether it was her child – ignored me, so I had to match her pace to keep looking. My inspection completed, I stood still and watched the woman amble away, and suddenly realised she wasn’t actually touching the pod itself. It lazily slid along, perfectly centred in the middle of the path.

It seemed as if my heart grew cold, and with every pump the feeling spread glacially throughout me, until even my bones shivered. I started moving in the opposite direction to the woman. Another pod brushed past, and I jumped, avoiding looking its inhabitant. The dog passed by, oblivious. I sped up, leaping off the path and walking over the manicured grass. A wake of machines straightened the flattened blades of my footsteps. Flowerbeds, hedges, trees, birds; none stood in my way as I scrambled up the slope in panic. I crawled to the crest, and lay panting on the mesa. In the corner of my eye, a framework stood out against the horizon. It was a door.

I stood up and turned around, slowly, hardly daring to breathe.

Pods circled the lake, perfectly spaced, at identical speeds, in precise step with one another, in a horrendous mechanical ballet. I pushed through the door.