Lords

I don't know what's worse: the overall stupidity of the folks around me, or my mother being so damn smart. A few days after I was born, Fraser, my father, was trying to give me a name, and lucky for me, my mother stopped him. But I almost got a heart attack from the way she did it: she told my father, that 'we haven't discussed that yet, and we should consider what name he wants'. She's been like this since day one, treating me like an a.d.u.l.t, while the country folk just laugh it off or think she's crazy. But it's driving me crazy, I didn't want to get exposed even to her, and if these people find out about me not being a regular child, I can even imagine them dumping me in an orphanage or taking me on a long trip that I don't come back from. They're backwards thinking peasants, to put it mildly, with almost no technology to assist their lives, and the most interesting thing happening to them is a bar fight – which occurs every other day, as far as I can tell. For crying out loud, it's 2056, AI technology was invented some 15 years ago, and I'm stuck living like in the middle ages. Well, a bit better, since they have some tractors, radios and a post office with a computer, but to me this is pretty unbearable. The only upside is that I'm too small anyways to use a computer or a smartwatch, but when I grow older I'm going to want to have more access to the world than the 'Ol daily news with Shawna McAlister on Radio Caora'. I'll have to think of something, but first, I have to somehow get my mother under control.

Regarding my name, when my father left to the bar, she asked me if I had a preference, but since I can't talk, she didn't even look at my reaction, just started thinking out loud. Our family name is MacLeod, so she proposed either Duncan or Connor, with a bright smile on her lips. I, on the other hand, started crying. There was no way I'd have accepted those names. She saw my despair, and assured me, that those names are off the list. And since I have proven with looks of distaste how much I don't like this country lifestyle, so are traditional names like Angus, Fergus, or Muir. To solve the situation, she took me to the post office, and she rented out the computer for one hour of internet usage. I really wanted to get on the internet, and started to wave at the laserboard, but Moira just scolded me, and told me to be patient. She opened up a site with a list of Scottish boy names, and wrote down some of the better ones in a .Note file. She repeated this with two more sites, adding a few more names to the file. In the end, it wound up being a list of 14 names, all acceptable in our community, but not too eye-catching outside of it either. I was really impressed with her being able to come up with this method for choosing a name. I looked at the list, and after a quick deliberation, I started pointing to one. She enlarged the font, so it would be easier for me to point to one, and let me closer to the screen. With all my puny might, I poked at my preference, and she selected it.

"James, huh? That's kind of… simple."

I just let out a typical giggle of a 4 days old baby, hoping she'd understand and that she did.

"So you would like to blend in? Are you some kind of alien in a human's body?" I looked at her a bit stupid and kept on giggling, as she continued to talk. "No, of course, you're not. Whatever is going on in that brilliant little head of yours, it's probably more human than the thoughts of these backwater folk." I giggled even more, in approval, and she smiled. "James it is then. My husband would approve of it too, it's a good name. I still can't wrap my head around how you're this smart as a newborn, but it's certainly refreshing. But you and I are going to have a long conversation about this as soon as you're able to talk, young man."

I think I'm starting to understand. This lifestyle took its toll on her. As far as I can tell, she loved the bustle of the big city, the intelligent crowds and the research opportunities, while being utterly bored with being a farmer's wife. She loves Fraser and their children, but she really feels out of place here. Me being born revitalized her, as now she can hope for at least one of her children to bring her some relief from the boredom. I kept on giggling and she scolded me again.

"Oh, stop it with the giggling. As long as we're here, we might as well get good use of the computer, who knows when we'll be able to come again. Would you like to look up something? Just keep it simple, you're a baby after all, and I can't imagine you being able to type in 'thermodynamics' even if you know what it means."

I thought about it for a bit, then held out my hands, and she leaned closer to the laserboard so I can reach it. It wasn't easy, but I managed to spell out three letters on the projected keyboard, and pressed enter.

"Eve? Who or what is that?"

This should be more than enough to get her attention.