* * * PETRICK'S P.O.V * * *
Life in Palinia, like milk and honey, delicious. Perfect scenery, perfect houses, perfect neighbours, perfect cars, perfectly perfect life.
I was in love with it!
"Sizelle!" I called out to her, scrunching my face at the answer and attitude I was about to get.
"What, you maggot!" She replied from the kitchen with a tinge of mock hatred laced to her sultry voice.
"That's no way to talk to your son," I replied, making it sound like I was hurt.
"Aw, sorry honey," Wait for it, "You came out of my womb, I can talk however the hell I want to you! Now, what do you want!?" I love Sizelle, I'm telling you, I really do. I thought as I smiled. I wouldn't have preferred her any other way.
I sighed, I was so going to regret asking her this, "Where, in the greatest pits of Bundu, is my Tronped?"
"Petrick, honey, how am I supposed to know?" Oh, Iragon, here comes her lecture.
"I tell you every single day that you must take care of your stuff, now you've lost it and you want to ask me? Do you know where I keep mine?" She appeared from the kitchen, leaning against the counter whilst dusting off her flour-covered hands on her apron.
She was busy baking. The warm and sweet smell of cookies and bread hit my nose in an overwhelming flush of senses when she walked out of the kitchen. I savoured the smell and the tingling sensation on my nose.
There was a small opening on the wall to see into the kitchen. It was built in such a way that you could see the kitchen from the lounge, though it was not an open plan kitchen. The stove and oven stood out starkly in the middle with a black limestone countertop.
The house was mostly of the red, brown mendish wood of the city isles of Preto. Since Parlar and Sizelle had wanted to go for a more natural and eco-friendly way of living, we also had most of our power in the house from PQMI energy.
"No, Sizelle, I don't know, please tell me, where?" I rolled my eyes.
"Right here, around my neck, where it's safe and taken care of." She tapped it to emphasis and gave me a sweet, sly smile.
Her Tronped was tetrahedral with smooth vertices, instead of the popular sharp ones. It was pink on top and white on the bottom. The contrast signified her as one of the upper echelons, which she and Palar definitely were. Our family's company was the powerhouse in hardware creations, we were well known.
"Learn to take care of your stuff!" She chastised, snapping my eyes' attention away from her Tronped to her face.
She had round brown eyes that seemed to always be radiating warmth, just oozing it out to consume you whole. They were still oozing warmth. At least she wasn't all the way mad because a mad Sizelle was a not so loving Sizelle. My tendencies tended to do that to her.
"Mom! I left it right here when I went to sleep last night." I pointed at the glass coffee table in front of me. Below it was a soft carpet that was made with loose threads of silk. "How many times should I tell you to never move my stuff without telling me." I sulked. I knew it would go in one ear and out from the other.
"Well, I wouldn't have to move your stuff if you knew where to place them. I've told you countless times that the table isn't a place where you just throw your things at," she scolded whilst pointing the 'finger' at me.
"If we're not supposed to place things on top of it, then what's it made for?"
"Don't back chat, Petrick!" She scolded yet again.
YOU ARE READING
THE TECHNOLOGIST
Science FictionOn Hold Till Further Notice! Thank you so much to those who've already read and those who might pick it up. XoXo ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 2254, the year that things started to take a terrible turn of events for CEO & Technologist...