The Weight of Tomorrow

The Weight of Tomorrow San Francisco Bay Area, March 2030 The morning light filtered through the smart-glass windows of their Palo Alto home, adjusting automatically to Mira's circadian rhythm as she stirred awake. Beside her, Elara's breathing was still deep and even, her dark hair splayed across the pillow like ink on silk. Mira watched her for a moment—this woman she'd chosen, who'd chosen her back, who'd become family in ways that transcended every traditional definition. The house AI, Aria, whispered a gentle greeting through the bedroom's ambient speakers. "Good morning, Mira. Your cortisol levels suggest restless sleep. Shall I brew your usual blend?" "Please," Mira murmured, careful not to wake Elara. She slipped from beneath the temperature-regulated sheets and padded barefoot across floors that warmed beneath her feet. In the kitchen, their domestic android—a sleek Companion-7 model they'd named Jules—was already arranging fresh fruit into a mandala pattern, its movements fluid as water. The world had changed so much. ASI had solved climate change, cured most cancers, made scarcity nearly obsolete. Autonomous systems managed everything from traffic flow to food distribution. Humanity had reached heights once confined to science fiction. And yet. Mira's hand drifted unconsciously to her abdomen as she accepted the coffee from Jules's articulated fingers. The genetic report sat on the counter where she'd left it last night, its holographic display dormant but still radiating an almost physical weight. BRCA-X Variant: Novel Mutation. Recommendation: Conception contraindicated via natural or assisted reproductive methods. Genetic correction: Currently beyond therapeutic capability.