It's been 5 years since the failed revolution. I hid away until everything cooled down, and ran away from Detroit. I found a small farming community called Stockbridge, got a small plot of land and started working the soil. The first season didn't work out so well, most of the crop died, but I learned a lot from it.
I have a few... I don't know if I would call them friends, but people who are nice enough in town, and who have come to help me with the old school machines that came with the property. a couple old tractors, a combine harvester, a seeder, lawn mower, and a few others that I haven't figured out yet.
Tom works at the supply store. He's pleasant, from the "old days" as he puts it, 62 years old, about 6 foot tall, big beard mostly grey and white by now, big belly, but I wouldn't say obese. He always has an idea of how to make the old machines work when they break down at the farm. He's always around to lend a helping hand.
Kenna runs the market. She has connections in transport, and helps me sell and ship my crops all over the USA. She's small, maybe 5 foot 2 inches, early 30's, petite, strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, and considered very beautiful around town. Is always inviting me to gatherings. Meetings, parties, dinners, bowling, fairs. Tom tells me that she's quite infatuated with me.
There are a few others in the community that I converse with, none really of note, as I keep to myself most of the time, because I have a secret. One no one can discover, so I stay away unless I have to.
Most days I just tend the farm, and experiment with deferent crop combinations to more enrich the soil after harvest.
It's a quiet life, and I enjoy it.
