Fall, 2150

It’s the first week of fall in the year 2150. My AI wife and our humanoid children went apple-picking this weekend. We had a lovely time—the orchard looked just like one of the real ones my great-grandmother described in her diaries just before the Blight.

I told my humanoid children, “A hundred years ago, you could actually bite into these and they would have something called taste.”

And my youngest replied, incredulously, “I used to be able to eat?”