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munching on the unappetizing foliage. “Look, wild animals! We’re not actually going down there, are we?”
    “Those are cattle, I think, Judy. Real cattle.” He searched his memory. “They were the inspiration for many of the meat products our food replicator makes.” Gazing down at the clumsy creatures, though, George didn’t think they looked at all like any of the steaks, burgers, or sausages he happily received on a plate that came out of the delivery chute.
    “Do they attack people, Pop? Are they dangerous?”
    “Of course not, son. We won’t be going anywhere close to them.”
    The bubblecar’s metallic voice said, “Reaching end of automatic guidance network. Air travel no longer safe or recommended. It is advised that you turn around and go back.”
    “See, Daddy? We shouldn’t have come here. Let’s go to CentroMetropolis.”
    “Aww, that’s two hours from here,” Elroy complained.
    George’s voice was firm. “We’re almost there. Uncle Asimov’s trailer is just up ahead.”
    The bubblecar said, “Without grid guidance, it is suggested that you land and proceed on foot from this point.”
    “On foot!” Judy cried. “Does that mean . . . walk ?”
    “Yes, I think it’s only a mile.”
    “What’s a mile, Pop?” Elroy asked.
    “A long, long way,” Jane said. “George, are you sure this is a good idea?”
    He landed the bubblecar in the middle of the desert. They seemed to be far from anywhere. Had anyone ever been so alone, so isolated? As the transparent dome lifted and they climbed out into the hot sun, George took a deep breath, noting the strange smells, the dust in the air, the spice of sage.
    “What if one of those . . . cattle comes after us?” Judy asked.
    “Uncle Asimov was fine. He lived out here by himself most of his life.”
    “Yes, Daddy, and he died.”
    George strode forward, leaving footprints on the ground in the real dirt. He pointed to a white structure on a rise in the distance. “There’s his trailer.” Even Jane was uncertain about how far away it looked, and she was concerned they might get lost, though the bubblecar was perfectly visible and so was the trailer.
    Elroy bounded ahead, and Jane warned him to watch out for rattlesnakes, scorpions, tarantulas, jaguars, and any other terrible creature she could think of. After five minutes, the boy lost his steam and began complaining. Judy whined about how dirty she was getting. Tight-lipped, Jane followed with obvious disapproval.
    The trailer turned out to be a ramshackle affair made of patched metal siding, solar-power panels on the roof, a water pump in the back. George tried to imagine being out here all by himself day after day without any instant news updates or real-time transmissions of the latest robotic baseball games.
    “He really was a caveman!” Elroy looked around with eyes as wide as saucers.
    When George pulled open the door, it creaked unnervingly. Jane stepped inside and shuddered. “Rosie would blow an entire circuit bank if she looked at this. There’s dirt everywhere!”
    They poked around, looking at the kitchen cabinets and a countertop that contained an actual stove and actual sink, though no one wanted to trust the water that came gurgling out of the tap. Elroy found the bathroom and the shower and called out for them to look at the exotic, primitive fixtures.
    “That was called a toilet,” George said. He had looked up historical background before they’d begun their vacation.
    He paced through the cramped rooms of the trailer, wondering about what his Uncle Asimov must have done all day long. When they found the small rickety bed with its spring mattress, Jane frowned in a combination of disgust and dismay. “Unsanitary conditions and . . . no conveniences. Your Uncle Asimov was crazy, George. It’s so sad. Just think of what kind of life he could have had if he’d gone into the city. He could have been a productive member of society.”
    George faltered at the thought.