The 40th Year: Dads by Design (Part 2)

Read part 1 of “The 40th Year: Dads by Design” to get caught up before reading on…

On the edge of downtown, in a calm studio filled with the scent of essential oils, Tristan Green led a yoga class. The room was peaceful, with soft music playing in the background and a dozen students of all ages and sizes following Tristan’s lead. An expert yogi, Tristan moved gracefully through the poses, his voice calm and steady.  

“Remember to breathe deeply and focus on your inner balance,” he instructed, his tone measured and soothing.  

Tristan was a tall, lean man with a build that spoke to years of disciplined exercise and healthy living. His skin practically glowed. His brown hair was kept pulled into a tight bun on the crown of his head, and his green eyes reflected a calm intensity that inspired his students to excel. His personal style emphasized his commitment to comfort and wellness, wearing organic cotton yoga pants and a fitted tank top that showcased his toned physique. Around his neck, he wore a mala bead necklace, symbolizing his dedication to mindfulness and spirituality.  

At the end of class, after the last of his students had filed out, he moved to the front of the studio, where a shelf held a selection of herbal teas and healthy snacks. He took a moment to sip on a green smoothie he had prepared earlier, savoring its freshness and vitality. Lying on the front counter, atop a pile of junk mail and dynamic advertisements, was an envelope stamped with the insignia of the Development and Assimilation Directive and Tristan’s name in block letters.  

Tristan took the envelope, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He opened it and read, a cold sweat forming on his brow. The Compulsory Transformation Notice required him to attend an events program to transform him into a relaxed, sociable grill master. His heart sank. His disciplined, health-conscious lifestyle was under threat.  

“Wow,” Tristan muttered, re-reading the notice.  

“Tristan, are you okay?” the receptionist asked, noticing his troubled expression.  

Tristan forced a smile. “Yes, thank you. I just… need a moment.”  

He retreated to the back office, the serene atmosphere of the studio now feeling stifling. He wasn’t even sure what a “grill master” was, but it felt like a betrayal of everything the vegan yoga instructor stood for. How could he be expected to abandon his principles and embrace a lifestyle contrary to his beliefs?  

Tristan’s commitment to health and environmental principles left little room for relaxation or spontaneity. He avoided social gatherings that didn’t align with his values, often opting to spend his time in solitary meditation or within his carefully controlled environments. According to the state, his flaw lay in his rigidity and seriousness. The Development and Assimilation Directive’s mandate was clear and unyielding. Tristan’s 40th birthday had come and gone a week ago. The Directive would now turn his disciplined, health-conscious existence into one of social relaxation and culinary indulgence.  

On the city’s outskirts, yet still within the MuniciPOL perimeter, Noah Fields was in his element, leading a group on a wilderness hike. The fresh air and the rustling leaves were his sanctuaries; the outdoors was where he felt most alive. At six feet tall, Noah had an athletic build honed by years of wilderness activities. His sun-kissed skin, wavy brown hair, and chiseled jawline made him undeniably attractive. He never passed up the opportunity to shed his tight, sweaty t-shirts to show off his body under the midday sun. His piercing blue eyes held a depth that spoke to his connection with nature.  

Noah’s dress was practical and suited to his rugged lifestyle. He wore a well-worn pair of hiking boots, cargo pants with numerous pockets, and a snug, moisture-wicking t-shirt. Slung over his shoulders was a study, weather-beaten backpack filled with essentials for any adventure. His gear was always meticulously maintained, a testament to his respect for the outdoors.  

As the hike concluded and the park pavilion neared, the small group gathered around Noah. “Thanks for another great hike,” one said, clapping him on the back.  

“No problem,” Noah replied with a warm smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Let’s do it again same time next week.”  

The group nodded and cheered to celebrate the completed hike, then carried on toward the trailhead, chattering along the way. As they dispersed, a low hum filled the air, and Noah looked up to see a drone descending towards him. It dropped an envelope at his feet before buzzing away. Noah’s heart sank as he recognized the embossed seal.  

“Please don’t be what I think you are,” he whimpered as he tore open the envelope, his hands already shaking. “Damn.”  

The Compulsory Transformation Notice detailed his mandatory neural interface implantation to become a tech-savvy dad. The thought of being constantly connected to the digital network was abhorrent to his minimalist worldview and his desire to live free from unnecessary technological intrusion. However, the Development and Assimilation Directive saw character flaws, whereas Noah saw virtues. By avoiding smartphones, social media, and other forms of digital connectivity, Noah’s belief that true freedom and happiness were found in nature put him at odds with the state. This lifestyle had isolated him from the rapidly advancing society around him, making him a target for the Directive. His resistance to modern technology and preference for a simple, nature-centered life would be unacceptable past his 40th birthday.  

Having noticed Noah lingering behind, a fellow hiker turned back and shouted, “Noah, you okay?”  

Noah forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got some news I need to process.”  

He retreated down the trail, seeking solace among the trees. The idea of becoming a tech-savvy dad, immersed in the world of constant connectivity and digital dependence, left him dumbfounded. How could he reconcile his love for the natural world with a technology-dominated life?  

That evening, four longtime friends on the cusp of their 40th birthdays gathered at their usual spot, a cozy pub tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. With its warm lighting, comfortable seating, and low din of instrumental music and casual conversation, the place was a refuge from the hustle and bustle of their busy lives. The four men sat around a wooden table, each lost in thought, their notices lying in the center like unwelcome guests.  

Busily cleaning dried clay from under a fingernail, Julian broke the silence first. “They want me to go through VR workshops to turn me into some kind of handyman,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.  

Leo nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Same here. Only they want to turn me into an athletics coach. VR sports immersion,” he said, still in disbelief.  

Tristan sighed deeply. “Grill master. Whatever that means. An events simulation to make me more ‘relaxed’ and ‘sociable.’ It’s everything I stand against.”  

Noah leaned back in his chair, his face grim. He shook his head. “Neural interface implantation. They want to make me a tech-savvy dad, connected 24/7. The thought of it makes me sick.”  

Julian ran a hand through his messy hair and looked around at his friends. “How can they expect us to just give up who we are? The Directive is insane,” he said, his frustration boiling over.  

Leo rubbed his temples, practically anticipating Julian’s reaction. “Look, guys, we all knew this was coming. Getting a notice from the Directive is normal and expected. They make it clear from the time we’re young that if we don’t conform to societal expectations by the age of 40, DAD will come for us,” he said, injecting a needed dose of logic into the conversation.  

Tristan nodded reluctantly, his messy hair knot flopping from side to side. “Leo’s right. We’ve known about this our whole lives. It’s not a surprise. Whatever you think about the Directive, you can’t argue that we have pretty good lives here,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.  

Noah leaned forward, a glimmer of intensity still showing in his sad eyes. “But knowing it was coming doesn’t make accepting it any easier.”  

Julian frowned, his mind racing. “What if we didn’t go through with it? What if we left Madison?” he suggested, ragged desperation creeping into his voice.  

Leo shook his head. “You know that’s not an option. Everywhere else is worse. Milwaukee, Chicago, Minneapolis… they’re overdeveloped urban hellscapes. We wouldn’t stand a chance,” he said firmly.  

“Leo’s right,” Tristan agreed. “Leaving Madison would be a death sentence. The state’s control is even stricter out there. At least here, we’ve got decent lives—and each other.”  

Noah sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right. It’s just… hard to accept,” he said, his voice filled with resignation.  

Leo nodded and threw an arm around Noah’s shoulders. “We’ll get through this together,” he said.  

Tristan raised his glass. “Enough of the soap opera stuff. Let’s drink. To us, our friendship, and facing whatever comes our way.”  

The others raised their glasses, a silent toast to their bond. As they drank and commiserated, their problems didn’t seem quite so bad. Their friendship would anchor a world about to be turned upside down.  

“So, we’re all going to become these ‘dad’ archetypes,” Noah said, a slight hint of irony in his voice. Julian, you’ll be the Handy Dad, fixing things, being practical.”  

Julian scoffed. “The idea of me with a tool belt is laughable,” he said, shaking his head.  

Leo chuckled softly. “And I’ll be the Sports Dad. Coaching teams, leading cheers. Me, of all people,” he said, rolling his eyes.  

Tristan smirked. “I’ll be flipping burgers and hosting BBQs as the Grill Master Dad. Guess I’ll have to learn to enjoy meat again,” he said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.  

Noah sighed. “And I’ll be the Tech-Savvy Dad, always plugged in and connected. The very thought makes my skin crawl,” he said.  

Julian looked around at his friends, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, if we’re going to be dads, at least we’ll be the best damn dads Madison has ever seen.”  

Leo nodded. “We’ll find a way to stay true to ourselves, no matter what the state tries to turn us into.”   

Tristan raised his glass once more. Mustering his resolve, he said, “To fighting back in our own way.” 

The others clinked their glasses together in a vow to remain united. As they drank, the bonds of their friendship grew stronger, a beacon of hope in the face of an uncertain future.