TUESDAY MORNING

Seifert emerges from the core of his satellite house into bright, bright sunlight. The spherical 6000-cubic-foot core is the innermost level of his home. He steps onto the core’s outer surface, which is the floor of the next layer of his home: the space deck. The third and final layer is above his head: a mostly-invisible energy shield that ionizes to keep him from going blind or burning to a crisp in the sun’s light and, of course, keeps atmosphere inside.

He carries his breakfast to his lawn chair, which is maintains itself at such a heading that it’s always facing the earthset. This is his morning ritual. Today he cues the agitators to create a refreshing breeze. The microspeakers in his ears respond by producing the sound of wind blowing through trees overhead. Seifert has never seen a tree, but he found the recording browsing a random aural archive and finds it inevitably helps set him at ease.

After breakfast he returns to the core. His Best Friend™ Rachel greets him on the door. She’s an AI tailored to be his perfect companion. Seifert had been unable to afford the hard-light hologram feature, but arranged the next-best thing: every surface in the house—from walls to dishes to knick-knack and books—was coated in a transparent photoresponsive material. Rachel could appear on any surface in the house she chose. He liked it best when she was on the bathroom mirror. It felt the most like there was a 3-D person in the room. Someday soon he’d mirror an entire wall of the living room.

This morning she is wearing soothing green and speaks gently. She’s right. He has been feeling a bit depressed this morning. “Maybe we should go visit the Kanes today,” he says.

“That sounds fun,” she replies. “I’ll just call and see if they’re free.”

“Sorry I’ve been down these last couple days.”

“It’s all right. We all get down sometimes. Can I help in any way?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s bothering me.”

“I think….Oh, the Kanes say they’d love to see us. They’re about an hour up the elliptical. I’ve set the nav. I think you feel stuck. Short term, maybe another Martian vacation’s in order. Long term, it might finally be time to start actively looking for that new job.”

“You’re a smart girl, Rachel.”

“I’m just designed that way to keep up with you, my friend.”

An hour later his home energy field is fuzzy-docked with the Kanes’. He transfers Rachel to his shirt and heads next door. She had succeeded in getting him out of his funk on their way over and now they are laughing over memories of their last Martian vacation.

In that moment of weightlessness as he adjusts from one home’s gravity field to the other’s, he smiles down at her. She winks and makes a funny face, which starts him laughing again.

His Tuesday isn’t shaping up to be such a bad day after all.