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works_in_spaceThe former house of George and Winona Kirk sits quietly, much of its furniture under synthetic dust cloths. The light of an Iowa morning is diffuse as the polarized glass of the windows keeps the rooms bright but not too much so. The hum of the household control system is faint, and outside there is only the distant buzz of automated tractors a kilometer away.
The back door opens, but there's no one outside. For a moment, the noise and bustle of a bar can be hear, the scents of beer and wine and people wafting through. Two people enter, and let the door close. The room is again silent.
"Welcome to Iowa, Teyla." Jim smiles at his guest as their eyes adjust to the light of the large kitchen.
The back door opens, but there's no one outside. For a moment, the noise and bustle of a bar can be hear, the scents of beer and wine and people wafting through. Two people enter, and let the door close. The room is again silent.
"Welcome to Iowa, Teyla." Jim smiles at his guest as their eyes adjust to the light of the large kitchen.
