High G Turns

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I was super excited to head home to my gallery apartment today because in this week's grocery shipment I fully expected to find a lovely box of HAAS avocados waiting for me alongside all the usual. When I was a kid I recall heading off to the supermarket with my mother and walking away with loads of these little buggers. They were so tasty. She'd cut them in half, pull out the pit, and hand me a spoon. But it's been an age since there was such a thing as markets, and avocados have become about as rare as ice in the Arctic.

Unfortunately, I let my anticipation of this delectable treat and the nostalgia for old-timey unprocessed foodstuffs come before any sort of reasonable, contemporary assessment of the status quo. This despite the fact that I'm constantly surrounded by swarms of pilotless delivery drones. They dodge through crowds of people at the train station. They zip past my head when I take the skywalk from one end of the arcology to the other. They're everywhere and always moving at a tremendous speed, performing amazing acrobatic feats that would turn a mere mortal into jello.

So it should have been no great surprise that the box I received on the doormat before my apartment was little more than the final resting place for the once delicate fruits of one Persea americana tree. The cardboard coffin contained only a greenish-brown slush resembling guacamole that had gone off. It's truly amazing what 10 gravity turns will do an avocado.

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