The in-laws lost their way many times.
Rawtown was hard to find. Maybe it didn’t want to be found. Along the way there were many false calls, many small towns and cities, with both friendly and hostile folk, all behaving the same way. As long as the in-laws didn’t stay long, everything was okay.
Soon there were murmors of discontent. “Who is Paul anyway? And who made him our leader?”
It wasn’t a relevant question really, because Paul didn’t care at all about leading. He was being led himself, by the love he had for the cute little boy he had taught everything he knew about being an Analog.
The journey was taking a toll on their bodies, minds and spirits. They were old and tired, but not old and tired enough to stop being parents. So they kept on going.
Finally, they came upon a small settlement, on harsh land, under the scorching sun. They would have passed it with contempt, had they not seen the ramshackle sign that said: “Rawtown.”
This was it.
They sauntered in, not knowing what to expect. Everything was quiet and peaceful. The young folk of Rawtown looked curiously at this ragged bunch each with one foot in the grave.
“Ah!” One of the women had spotted her daughter. Everyone stopped. The woman and her husband rushed towards their child. Hope gave birth to itself. Everyone looked around impatiently.
Paul, Ma, Teddy and Rachel searched high and low for their kids. They could feel the size of their group thinning, as each family found its own. They frantically searched every house, but it turned out to be someone else’s surprise.
There was only one house left. More like a hut. Right in the middle of Rawtown.
Analog Bob, the kid who did everything impossible to win the hand of Cathy Digital, opened the door. “Hi Dad, Mom.” He was no longer a kid.
Paul and Ma didn’t wait for words. They hugged, and cried. Teddy and Rachel found Cathy, the prettiest dame to ever walk through the mean streets of Wolfcrow, and they hugged and cried. Hugging and crying was something they had in common. Bob had set out to find his own workflow. That, he had.
Then there was a scream. A baby’s scream. Cathy picked up her little one. The grandparents stood shell-shocked. Professor Sampler was right – mere mortals cannot handle the bit stream.
As Teddy picked up the kid, he asked: “By the way, I have a question. Is he an analog or a digital?”
“Neither, Dad,” Cathy replied with tears in her eyes. “We decided we’ll let him just be human.”
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