After a few seconds, there was the familiar buzzing sound of the rotating blades. It quickly reached my location and landed in front of me. It was a one seater.
I sat down inside as I had countless times before. The forty minutes I spend in this taxi is my favorite part of the day. As it flies just over the trees, I get a panoramic view of the changing landscape below. First come the farmsteads, followed by the wilderness of vast forest and sporadic settlements that could be best described as small quaint villages. There was still plenty of space to grow the population, which was just as well as each woman on the habitat tended to have at least six or seven children, all of which virtually survived to adulthood.
They live a simple life with religion and land front of centre, dressing modestly and praying often. It is thought that their customs from a group called the Amish that once lived on Earth. Although a spiritual person, my own lack of adherence to church rules has scuttled any chance of a relationship I may have had. I try not to worry as I edge towards thirty. Only, another few hundred years of loneliness to get through. Nobody to cuddle up to at night or discuss my more private thoughts with.
The taxi lands and my journey is at an end. The hatch to my underground work station is only a few metres away. I open the hatch and climb down the ladder to the tunnel underneath.
Mark's Writing Corner 