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Tilly stared out the window, in a haze. She was dreaming, as she usally did, letting her mind run wild and free. She was a writer, and a good one at that. She usually liked to let her thoughts run wild before writing anything – her good stories were the ones she didn't have to work hard to produce. Tilly sighed. No good ideas seemed to come to mind at the moment. Tilly wondered if it was the boring world that surrounded her. She stared at the walls around her. Plain. How boring. "Tilly, come downstairs, dinner's ready!" the walls shouted. Tilly sighed – she did that often. She walked over to her wall screen and blinked obviously, five times. A picture of downstairs was displayed on her wallscreen, through hologram. The rest of her family were glaring at her. Whoops. "I'm coming down!" Tilly assured her mother. Tilly walked out of the room, and the soft glow of her bedroom lights faded. Tilly graced the stairs and walked down into the family room.
Tilly's family was waiting for her. Her dad was at the table. She didn't even hear him come in. He must have come back early from Sydney. "Dad!" Tilly yelled, delighted.
Dad looked hurt. "You didn't even come to greet me when I came in the front door."
"I didn't hear the car!" Tilly argued. It was true. You never heard them these days. Hydrogen engines. Tilly sat down, and stared at her plate in horror. "What is this?" Tilly asked her mother, horrified. Tilly's mum looked taken aback. "It's steamed Asian greens. You know they're the only vegetables you can get at the moment; ones imported from Asia!" That was true. The demand for vegetables in Australia had dropped dramatically. The demand had dropped so dramatically that there simply wasn't a business for vegetables there any more. You had to place an order personally to an overseas farm if you wanted vegetables. They were cryogenically frozen and shipped over. Tilly sighed, as usual. She picked up her fork and ate.
After dinner, Tilly helped her mother clear the table. "Tilly, why didn't you come and greet your father when he came home? You know he's hardly ever home," Tilly's mother complained. Tilly's jaw dropped open. How could this be happening? She didn't hear the car. "Mum, you know new cars are silent these days!" Tilly yelled. Tilly's mum shook her head. "The house would have told you." She tapped the small wallscreen that was mounted on the kitchen wall. That was right. The house. Its name was Betty, named after Milly's great grandmother. Every house in Australia had one. The authorities said they installed them for safety. They were there to keep and eye on everyone. In case anyone was doing the wrong thing. If someone broke into your house, the house would know, and notify the police. Seemed fine. The only setback was that the house told you everything that was going on. You had no excuse not to be informed. "Then, I guess I was lost in my imagination!" Tilly said. She shook her head, and walked away.