The director of the department I work for called me to his room today. He showed me one of the seats and said, “Sit down.” I put my hands on my knees like madrasah students. All I wanted was to get out of that room as soon as possible.
"How are you, in a good mood?” he asked.
“I am fine.”
"As you know, market conditions are not good. We'll cut wages.”
"But some of my friends are waiting for a raise.”
"There may be exceptions. Your deduction rate will be 35%. I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
“It is unacceptable for me.”
"It is the strict order of the senior management. That's why I can't do anything. You can also take your accumulated rights and leave the job. The choice is yours.”
The next day, I quit my job, which I had worked for six years. I don't feel any worse now than I did when I was working.
I had such a tedious day yesterday that I didn't even feel like putting on a virtual reality device and play games. For the first time in months, I haven't been to the hospital to visit my mother. Pars arrived this afternoon. He asked me to go to the Lumen nightclub, which has been popular lately. I said, If you want it, go alone. He insisted that I would come too.
After watching a few movies at home, we went to the place around midnight. They tried to give the environment a futuristic air with colorful laser lights and serving gynoids. They only played music composed by artificial intelligence programs at the nightclub. Even the DJ was electronic. I expected more original things from AI. I think the music was ordinary. At the risk of spending half the money in my wallet, I drank a lot. My brain went numb because I shook my head a lot on the dance floor. After a while, I started having fun. In such environments, people begin to experience a common trance state. You start to think you're adapting to the world and people. Even if it's short, it's comforting.
A girl with red hair, whose name I later found out was Melissa, came up to me and started dancing. As she moved by the rhythm of the music, the lullabies in her red hair grew longer and shorter. The music fueled me, so I tried to reach out and grab her hand. Just as there was electrification between me and the girl, a crackling voice came from our meeting hands.
While chatting in the foyer, she said that too much static electricity had accumulated in her body. It would be worse if she didn't put copper soles on her shoes. The frequency we caught with the girl was fine, but her friend was doing everything she could to ruin it. She told me that I seem like a good boy, I'd better go home alone as soon as possible.
"Shall I drink my milk before I go to bed?" I asked.
“You should be ready for what you will face,” the sullen girl said, turned around, and started walking down the runway.
I liked the energy that Melissa radiated. We took two more shots of tequila from the gynoid waiters and broke up with Lumen.
On the way out, Melissa was on my arm, tossing her red hair and telling me something. I couldn't focus on what she was saying because I was dizzy, but I liked her excitement.
She showed me the copper soles of her shoes when we had a second electric crash on the door of the house. I couldn't remember how we decided to come home. A few minutes later, we found ourselves kissing on the couch in the living room. Although I was afraid of being hit by static electricity, I liked being surrounded by her. I have no idea what is happened after. When I woke up in the morning, I was lying naked in my bed and Melissa wasn't around.
My head hurt like it was going to crack. When I went to the bathroom to take a shower, I saw robes and towels thrown on the floor. I washed my face and went back to the bedroom. The bathrobe and towels were OK, but it was strange that my wallet was thrown on the floor. I took it and looked inside. All my cash was gone. It wasn't a big deal, but the feeling I had at that moment was terrible.
My mother suddenly became ill and fell into a coma, and we lost her. It's hard to describe my feelings. I don't know how to get used to her absence.
I hate this city.
My move to the farmhouse was quick and smooth. I find it hard to believe I have a huge cherry orchard, a two-story house, and chickens. The two little tractors on my farm work like bees all day decked out by the stewards. I was surprised when my client representative at Agritech mentioned a housekeeper who would run things without pay, and I thought the company would pay the housekeeper. It turned out to be a computer program called The Butler. There are cameras all over my land. The housekeeper monitors what is happening and gives instructions to self-controlled tractors through cameras. There is a high platform in the middle of the Cherry Orchard. It throws bombs at the clouds so that when the cherries matured, it wouldn't rain on them.
The firm and I were at odds about the robot dog patrolling the area. I was surprised to hear that it had a gun on it and that it was shooting at the wild animals trying to enter the land. What if it accidentally hurts a person? They agreed to dismantle the gun on the robot dog, or I would stop being a partner in the land.
Spring has come a little early, but the trees are not allowed to bloom. A strong frost is expected in a few days. In the water given to the land, there is a substance that blocks genes that allow trees to bloom. After the frost passes, they will no longer add this substance to the water, and the land will be filled with white flowers.
I'm very happy to be intertwined with nature. My friends call and ask how my days are going. Although I don't do much work, I'm not bored until now. People who learn about my business ask why the company needs novice farmers like me. I sold our house in Istanbul and invested quite a bit of capital in it. And I'm a free caretaker of the land.
An intruder has been coming into my garden for a few days. Actually, I don't want her to come, but I can't say anything. I guess she got used to coming to my farm. There is a swing and a game pool in my garden. If I say,” Take those to your own garden, " it will be rude. A chubby-cheeked girl. A complete dreamer, she tells stories as she wanders, moving her hands and arms. What I don't understand is how her mother let her come here alone. Doesn't she know that the farmer had changed?
I'm getting used to Duru. When she didn't show up yesterday, I was worried if something had happened to her. I asked her when she came in today, and she said she and her mother went down to the county. She was walking around with a little robot that looks like a hamster. At first, it seemed interesting, but after a while, that metallic mouse started getting on my nerves because it was always watching us. When I took him in my hand and leaned over to examine, he opened his mouth and handed me the barrel of the gun inside. I found out later that he was a protection robot. I'm not sure if there's a bullet in the little gun. How easily they put weapons to robots.
Duru's mother Leyla came today. She realized a little late that a new farmer had arrived at the next farm. A medium-sized woman with round lines, probably a few years older than me. A hyperactive person who can't stand where she stands. I mentioned her daughter's little robot. It had a bullet in it, but it was dummy, so it wouldn't kill anyone, she explained.
Leyla, Duru, and I took a long walk under the blooming cherry trees. I inhaled the immaculate village air and thought I was lucky to get out of Istanbul. Birds were singing in the trees; bees and butterflies began to hover over the grass as if they wanted to celebrate something. Under the white flowers of cherry trees resembling a veil, Leyla looked more beautiful to my eyes.
I think I have a wild nature. I'm still not tired of being alone. No word from Leyla and Duru today. The virtual housekeeper on the computer gives me some simple tasks as well as tractors. I'm so tired of people that I don't mind taking orders from a computer program.
Programmable plants are more common in the world than I thought. In some agricultural areas, I read that plants do not bloom, despite the trigger substance. They worry about rising food prices. This issue has already been much debated. Now there are demonstrations against big agricultural companies in many places. I think, nothing will happen. People get used to everything over time.
Leyla called and reproached me. If she hadn't called, we'd never have seen each other. I couldn't give a straight answer. I can't be sure how I feel about Leyla. I would never have been interested in her if we weren't neighbors.
Today, Leyla and I took a walk in the woods above their land. I felt the sediment that Istanbul had left in my soul had been cleared. Towards the end of March, a spring rain subdued. Fortunately, Leyla brought an umbrella. Under the same umbrella, we went to Leyla's house, sniffing the smell of wet soil into our lungs. Leyla offered us rosehip tea. Something tells me we're moving into a romantic relationship.
Leyla called and asked me to come to their house in my car as soon as possible, and the confused robot dog accidentally shot Duru. Fortunately, the bullet grazed his shoulder, and she was fine. “What if something happened to Duru,” she said, perhaps ten times on the way to the hospital.
All the robot dogs patrolling the area have been stripped of their weapons. In fact, there needs to be a legal arrangement on this issue.
I've decided that there can't be anything romantic between Leyla and me. I guess isn't sure about her feelings either. She doesn't seem to care much about me.
I woke up this morning with a big rumble. A system that “protects” the surrounding land from rain has been activated. The system sent three or four bombs in a row to the rain clouds that decayed. If it had rained on the cherries at this time, we would have lost a lot. Surrounding villagers complain that their fields are also deprived of rain because of the company.
It's been a while since we harvested the cherry. Agritech got the lion's share, of course. I guess I can make a living with the money I earned.
My friends have been coming and going over the summer. Therefore, I was never bored. I'm happy here for now; I don't want to go to Istanbul even as a tourist.