Adam adjusted the collar of his white uniform and walked out of his room. He descended the glass spiral staircase, his face composed in a mask of indifference, though his eyes were scanning every detail of the house's layout.
In the main hall, his "family" was already gathered. They stood near the main entrance, looking sharp and ready for the day.
His father, George, was dressed in a formal suit that seemed to shimmer slightly under the light—likely some kind of protective fabric. He noticed Adam approaching and gave a brief, acknowledging nod, but didn't say anything.
His mother, Rachel, was adjusting her handbag. As soon as she saw Adam, her expression tightened.
"Adam," she said, her voice stern. "I am serious about what I said at breakfast. When you come back, you must do your Yoga practice. No excuses today. Do you hear me?"
Adam simply nodded. "I understand."
"Rachel, don't pressure him right before he leaves," George interjected gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let's go. We're running late."
Steven, looking dashing in his grey university uniform, flashed a charming smile at Adam. "See you later, little brother. Try not to fall asleep in class."
The main gate slid open with a hiss.
Adam followed them out, expecting to step onto a driveway or a corridor. Instead, he stepped onto a large, metallic platform extending from the side of the house.
There was no road. There was no sidewalk.
Attached to the edge of the platform was a massive, circular machine that looked like a futuristic lift. It was divided into four distinct, pie-shaped sections. These were not just elevator compartments; they were vehicles.
Without hesitation, his father, mother, and brother stepped into three of the separate sections. The glass doors of their pods slid shut instantly, sealing them inside.
Click. Hiss.
Adam watched in amazement as the three pods detached from the main hub. With a soft hum of anti-gravity engines, they floated upwards. Then, with a burst of blue energy from their thrusters, they zoomed off in three completely different directions, disappearing into the neon-lit sky.
"Efficient," Adam muttered. "Individual transport units."
He stood alone on the windy platform. He looked left, then right.
There were no neighbors. There was no street.
His house was an isolated unit, protruding from the side of a colossal skyscraper that vanished into the clouds above and the smog below. To his left and right, there was nothing but empty air and the distant hum of traffic miles away.
"It's lonely," Adam observed, the wind ruffling his hair. "This location... it's completely isolated. No wonder the previous Adam was so withdrawn. There is literally no one else here."
It reminded him of his old life—isolated, hidden away, with only work to keep him company. But here, the isolation felt colder, more artificial.
He turned his attention to the fourth and final section of the lift—the only one remaining docked to the platform.
He stepped inside the glass pod.
The moment his feet touched the metal floor, the center of the pod shifted. A comfortable, leather-cushioned chair rose smoothly from the floorboards.
Adam sat down.
Snap.
Mechanical belts automatically extended from the sides of the chair, crossing over his chest and waist, locking him in securely. He didn't even have to lift a finger.
As soon as he was secured, the pod's glass door slid shut, sealing out the wind.
Through the glass, Adam watched as the main gate of his house automatically locked and powered down. The lights in the hallway dimmed.
Hummmm.
The pod vibrated gently. Adam felt a sensation of weightlessness as the vehicle detached from the platform. It hovered for a second, calibrating its route.
Then, the thrusters engaged.
The pod surged forward, joining the stream of flying traffic, carrying Adam away from the lonely house and into the sprawling, futuristic unknown.