The guys were covered in mud and none of them cared.
“How about a beer?” James.
“I’ll fire up the grill.” Don.
“I know how to clean fish.” Mel.
“I can light the kindling.” Mark.
Together they ran a microcosm of civilization in the acre of woods to which they retreated one weekend per year.
On the outskirts of their camp the hovercrafts steamed in the cool air. They sat in folding chairs, enjoying their meal. The trees blocked all views of the distant skyscrapers. In the silence, they remembered why they made sure to come here, year after year.
Author’s Note: Science fiction is great for showcasing advanced technology, but also for escaping it.
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