RG’s hydrogen-powered farm-stand/fire engine with the big sign of a flaming pea pod on the side was surrounded by eager berry purchasers at the farmer’s market. It was no longer identified as an “organic farmer’s market.” It was just the “farmer’s market.” Nowadays, a person who felt unsafe unless his food was protected by pesticides had to seek out a special “sprayed food market.”A loud buzzing permeated the farmer’s market, produced by the dozens of windmills at the location, all spinning madly.
A woman in her 50s approached her and called out, “Random Granddaughter! I remember your grandmother, serving coffee and home-baked scones at the snack stand! She would be proud to see what you’ve done with her land!” They chatted nostalgically about RG’s grandmother and about how well she had run the coffee stand and how everybody loved her baked goodies.
Grandma used to say, “Everybody wants baked goods that are good for you, but a lot of those health cookies are heavier than bricks. You could bring down a bunny with some of the ‘health food cookies’ people bake.” Mrs. Random had been renowned for baking nutritious and virtuous cookies that were also light and tasty.

RG’s daughter, Random Great-granddaughter, returned from playing in the giant Fun Forest where children and adults frolicked together and asked her mom, “Can I have some raspberries?”

Reflexively, RG corrected her, “May I have some raspberries?” Her mommies had taught her to be polite and grammatically correct. Then she added, “You can’t just live on raspberries, you know.” It had taken twenty years for RG to overcome all her food persnickityness, but RG finally ate a balanced diet, so she expected her daughter to do the same.

A small adult figure appeared at the truck. “Auntie Mia!” exclaimed RGG. Mia swept RGG up in a hug. RG said, “Mia and I are going to have fun in the Fun Forest. She’s too serious. Her shrink has prescribed fun therapy for her. Please mind the stand for a while. Please sell a few berries as well as eating them.”

“Do I have to? I want to play with Auntie Mia,” RGG whined, warming up to a meltdown. She had inherited her mother’s famous temperament.

“Please don’t talk back to me, young lady,” warned her mother. Everyone who knew them expected fireworks once RGG became a teenager.

Later in the afternoon, as the market closed, the farmers headed for their summer potluck and celebration. Chad and Yoshi joined Mia and RG, as the organic pea pod used RG’s fire truck to drive farm children to the farm near the island’s coast where the party was held that year.

 As the evening grew dark, all the organic farmers and their families gathered on a bluff by the beach, gazing nostalgically at where the mainland of America had once been visible before the deus ex machina.