"So, she moved in with her boyfriend?" Berkeley Moreno asks as he turns the steering wheel.

He turns right through a busy intersection and drives onto a freeway ramp. He’s on a phone call with his younger sister, Genevieve.

"Yeah. She left the condo last week. Made a big fuss about it. You know Cordelia." She explains.

"Psh. Actors. So, who’s still living there?" He rolls his eyes.

"It’s just been me, Allegra, and Giorgio. It’s been so quiet."

"What about mom and dad?"

"What about them? It’s the same as always, they’re never here." Her voice becomes slightly aggressive as she says this.

"Wait what? I thought they both retired last year! They posted a picture of some party." Berkeley also looks upset.

"Yeah, they did. But it doesn’t stop them from going to the lab. Sheesh. I don’t think anything would."

"Not even this?" He asks.

"They’re not here yet."

"Well, I am. Almost anyway. I’ll be there in a few."

"See ya." Genevieve hangs up the call.

Berkeley drives along a wide freeway lane in a nice blue hatchback moon rover. The dark, star filled sky shines bright behind the Earth as it hovers illustriously above. The golden skyline of Mare Crisium gleams luxuriously around the freeway. Beyond the cityscape, rolling hills of green grass and mustard flowers sway along with an artificial breeze. These hills go on for as far as the eye can see. They perfectly resemble the Earth’s surface before the impact—or at least the photographs he has seen.

Berkeley takes an exit towards Swift crater, one of the city’s many residential hubs. These hubs consist of two to three large living complexes that house the residents of the city. There are thousands of units within these complexes that vary in size depending on household population and income. The majority of the Moon’s population reside within hubs like these. He enters the towering dome-shaped complex through a large entrance arch. Within the dome, in the center of the structure, is a massive park. It is filled with trees, gardens, walking paths, and community activities. Residents of the hub’s lower levels tend to be the staff that maintain these community centers.

He drives around the lengthy roundabout that surrounds the central park, making his way to a ramp that leads to the higher levels of the complex. Hierarchically, the wealthier residents live in the upper levels and the lower classes live below. The Moreno family lives somewhere in between. More upwards than down. Berkeley parks his rover and quickly makes his way into the hive of hallway plazas that divide each living space, retreading the ever-familiar path that leads to the family home. He taps in the pass code to the front door and enters to find an eerily silent household.

"Hello?" he calls out.

There is no response. However, he hears the familiar slow footfalls of the family pet. From around a corner, a Galapagos tortoise pokes its head out.

"Ah, Hermes!" Berkeley smiles, as he takes off his shoes. He jogs over to the tortoise, meeting him ninety percent of the way. "Good boy!"

Berkeley gives Hermes some head rubs and neck scritches. The tortoise is happy. A voice calls out from upstairs.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I’m down here." Berkeley responds.

Rapid footfalls traverse the unseen upstairs hallway. Genevieve appears in the upstairs loft that overlooks the entrance room.

"Oh. You made it." She says as she dries her long curly hair with a towel.

"Have they shown up yet?" He asks.

"Nope."

There is a slight shuffle on the other side of the front door.

"That’s them." Genevieve says.

The front door opens, and the Moreno parents enter the room. Elisia walks in first followed by her husband, Flavius.

"Oh, there you are. Are you ready to go?" Elisia asks.

"Ready to go? I just got here." Berkeley looks up at Genevieve then back to his mother.

"Very good. You didn’t have to wait long." Elisia says. Her candor is very formal, almost robotic, yet it remains earnest.

"Hey, Berk." Flavius speaks quietly as he walks past and into the living room.

"Hey, Dad."

"Let’s go. Genevieve, are you ready?" Elisia asks.

"My hair’s been drying for like an hour." Genevieve responds, pressing the towel tighter against her hair.

"Then braid it."

"Hm…" Genvieve grumbles.

"Do you need help?" Elisia asks.

"No. I got it. I’ll be down in a minute." Genevieve says as she turns around and walks away.

"Where are we going?" Berkeley asks.

"To Helena Archer’s vineyard. You remember her, right?" Elisia explains.

"Of course I do."

"It’s okay if you don’t, Berk. Your father and I are both very forgetful, and bad memory is supposedly hereditary." She lectures.

"Are you sure you’re remembering that correctly?" He smiles.

Elisia smiles. "Hm. I suppose you’ve called her Auntie once or twice before. When you were small."

"They’ve shown up to several birthdays. I remember the Archers." Berkeley clarifies.

"Of course. A likely byproduct of our family celebrating ten birthdays every year. Did you know that she’s been divorced?"

Berkeley wavers from the whiplash of that sentence. "No, I didn’t. That’s good to know."

"Precisely. Don’t mention Uncle Brie."

There are descending footfalls from the stairs. Genevieve’s hair is tied into a long, neat, braid.

"Now, let’s go. Flavius! We’re leaving!" Elisia raises her voice loud enough to fill the house.