Grandpa Joe had been holding back when he said that the farm needed a little bit of work. The whole place was in a state of complete disrepair. There was definitely potential here for something that could be amazing, with huge areas of flat farmland, a massive dam, and a small hill at the back behind the farmhouse that caught lots of sun. It would be a perfect fruit tree grove.
The only problem was that the fields were completely overgrown with weeds, huge boulders sat in the most inopportune places, and there were trees that had grown large and wild over the years. Some of those trees had fallen and would need to be removed too.
As I sat in the passenger seat of Marlene’s car, I took a deep breath when I saw the work ahead of me. I tried to remind myself that I had a brand new support network waiting to be discovered in town, and I would not have to do this alone. The actual farming side of things I would have to do myself, but if this really did follow the logic of a farming simulator video game then there would be builders and animal handlers and blacksmiths and grocers that would be able to help me in different ways.
This kind of logic was even confirmed by Marlene as we pulled up to the front gate.
“You see this big receiving bin here?” she asked and motioned to a large steel bin sitting just next to the entrance gate.
I nodded. “That's where I put anything that I want to sell, right?”
Marlene grinned. “I thought Joe said that he hadn't spoken to you in years, but you still know how everything works?”
I grinned. “I have a bit of an idea of how farms work, but no. Grandpa never told me any of this. I'm just figuring it out as I go. But if there's anything that you think that I should know, please tell me. I won't be offended even if you assume that I don't know something that I do.”
“Well isn't that something? Just make sure whatever you want to sell for the day is in the bin by sundown. That’s when Mort will come around and pick it all up. It’ll be itemized and you’ll have a breakdown of it waiting for you in your letterbox the very next morning. The money will be deposited into your bank account too.”
“That makes sense. Thanks. Do you have my bank account details?”
“I don’t, but you could keep using your grandpa’s account for now if you want.”
“Sure, let’s do that for now.”
“Great. Now I'm sure your grandpa has some old tools left over here that you can use to start. Do you need anything? I prepared a little lunch box full of food for you, just in case you didn't bring anything.” She handed me a small metal lunch box held together with a metal clasp.
I opened it up and saw what looked to be a sandwich wrapped in brown butcher’s paper, a yellow banana at the perfect stage of ripeness, and a small glass jar full of trail mix. There were cashew nuts, peanuts, cranberries, and little muesli clusters. It looked absolutely delicious.
“I doubt your grandpa would have left you much to eat. He did leave that bank account I mentioned to you before as well, but it's only got about $250 in it. That'll probably be enough to keep you going for the next month or so, but eventually you'll have to start paying land tax, fees for your water, all of that kind of thing. But don't worry, as I said we're always happy to work with the people of Yucaborough, and I know your first harvest is probably going to be pretty light on.”
“Yeah, wow, that’s a lot of pressure.”
“Oh don’t worry, young Jackson! Lots of townsfolk always have odd jobs that need doing. They’ll either offer to trade things in return for jobs, or pay you cash straight up. Just check the community noticeboard in the town square. Now if all else fails, you could always head along to the bank and ask for a loan. Most of the businesses will be happy to help out where they can, but some things are a little too large and too risky, so you might need to go see Mister Stern at the bank for some help. But he's just like the rest of us, and he really is here to help.”
I nodded. “That's good to know. I’d much rather make some money doing odd jobs instead of borrowing money if I can help it. I won’t really know what I need to do until I get to the farmhouse and see what the damage is. Thank you so much for the lift out here, Marlene. I'll probably head back into town tomorrow and pick up some supplies. But for today I think I'm just going to get a lay of the land and settle in.”
“That sounds like a good plan, Jackson. I'm really glad that there's another Jones here on the farm. I didn't like the bank sniffing around the place when your grandpa got sick. If he still owes any money on this place, he hasn't made that known to us. Hopefully you can have a look at any of the paperwork he left behind and figure out how to move forward. I’d probably recommend heading along to see Mister Stern at some point anyway.”
Well that sounded ominous. I didn't like the idea of having to work to pay off my grandpa's debt if he still had one, but what else could I do? Sell the farm and give up my chance of building something for myself, like I wanted to? No, if there were bills due and land taxes to be paid, I'd figure out a way to pay them.
Marlene had given me the keys to the house and the old pickup truck in a big yellow envelope. She had held onto these at the instruction of my grandpa’s lawyer. Apparently mailing a key to an address when they didn’t even know whether Jackson actually still lived there was frowned upon.
I pulled the house keys out as I walked through the front gate and headed towards the farmhouse. The weeds had grown so tall and spread so far that they were actually blocking part of the driveway. It wasn’t just the weeds that were cutting off the way into the farm either. There were some large rocks sitting in the wheel tracks, and one large tree that had fallen over that blocked the whole thing.
Well there’s one of my first challenges. I’ll need to clear this out before I could take the truck into town.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Birds flew overhead crying a strange song that I hadn’t heard before. I guess even the birds in this world sounded different. They flew in a flock but were big like crows. Their feathers were blue and gray, and they had hooked beaks like a parrot.
The farmhouse itself was covered in flaking paint, and some of the windows were hanging from rusted hinges out of the window frames. It had seen better days. There was a shed sitting off to the side, and that’s where the old truck would be.
I slipped the farmhouse key into the lock on the front door and turned it. It took some effort to unlock the deadbolt, but I got there in the end. The door swung inward and revealed a modest but comfortable home that was in desperate need of some tender loving care. A thin sheen of dust covered pretty much everything, and Grandpa Joe clearly hadn’t been one for interior decorating. Now that this place was mine, I would be able to work on making it really feel like home over the next few years.
Just as Grandpa Joe had said in his letter, there was a care package waiting for me on the small circular dining room table. The kitchen itself was not bad but it lacked some of the modern conveniences that I was sure I would miss. There was no AI-driven robotic butler to do most of the menial tasks, no dishwasher, and there was certainly no food fabricator.
I was a part of one of the last generations in my world where people actually learned how to cook, not throw ingredients into a pot, press a button and wait for a robot to do the rest. If that kind of technology didn’t exist in this world, then there probably would be a lot of hard work in my future. But maybe I could adapt some of those ideas from my own life to make things better and easier here. I really hoped that this world had pizza. Did it have an Italy? I’d need to find an atlas or something at some point.
But that was a problem for the days to come. I opened up the box Grandpa Joe left behind on the table. I sat down and went through the contents.
He clearly didn't know when he was going to die, because there were seeds in here for all four seasons. There was a little comfort in knowing that in this world there was still spring, summer, autumn, and winter. In the world that I had come from, in the place that I had lived, we called autumn fall. But I knew what it meant. The seeds were held together with twine in batches, separated by season.
There was a planting guide inside the box too, but I figured I would take a look at that when I was ready to actually plant something.
I suddenly wished that I had asked Marlene what the date was so I could figure out which season I was in. A quick glance out of the window showed that most of the trees were still in full greenery, so it was very likely it was either summer or spring. I quickly had a look around the kitchen and found exactly what I was looking for. There was an old school rotary phone hanging from the wall just next to the refrigerator. There was even a dedicated shelf just beneath the phone to hold a well-worn notebook.
When I picked it up, I realized it wasn't a notebook at all. It was one of those old school contact books where you listed everyone you knew, their addresses, and what their phone numbers were. This was very different than the world that I had come from.
Lots of people didn't even want others to know where they lived, and absolutely nobody had a home phone number anymore. Everyone just had mobile phone numbers, but they were never used for actually talking to anyone. The only people who use actual numbers to call others were scammers. Everyone else used encrypted messaging apps to ensure that nobody else was listening into their conversations.
Like I said, the world that I came from was a paranoid and mistrusting one. There were a bunch of names in here that had job titles listed next to them. There was a guy named Gavin Cartwright who was listed as a carpenter, a woman named Prue Fielding who ran the local bakery, and about a dozen other names that belonged to townsfolk that my grandpa clearly knew.
There was a fellow named Alan Badger listed who ran the local general store. General stores in little towns like this sold pretty much everything, from newspapers to groceries to camping and hardware supplies. I figured if anyone was going to be able to tell me the date and which season we were in, it was going to be Alan.
I lifted the receiver off the hook and dialed the number listed. To my surprise, the number was only six digits long, so this world hadn't even gotten big enough to have to deal with area codes yet. The number only rang twice before it was picked up.
“Hello, you've reached The Burrow, how can we help you?”
“Um, hello there. Is this Alan Badger?” Then I got it. His last name was Badger, and his shop was called The Burrow? Cute, but a little on the nose.
“Yes it is, who's this? I don't recognize your voice.”
“No, this is my first day in town and I just needed to give you a call. I was hoping that you'd be able to help me out with something. My name's Jackson Jones, grandson of Joseph Jones?”
“Oh, well hello Jackson. It's lovely to hear from you.” There was a tenderness and concern in Alan's voice at the mention of my grandfather. He obviously knew him and knew about his passing. “I'm so sorry to hear about your grandfather. He was a lovely man.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I'd never really known how to respond to people giving condolences like that. The older you got, the more of your friends and family you saw pass away. People said that they were sorry, but I think a lot of them just meant that they were sorry that they didn't know what to do or say.
The truth of it is when you've lost someone you love, there's really nothing that anyone else can do for you anyway. No matter what happens, it's on you to grieve and heal and move forward.
“So what can I help you with? You’re here in town now?” Alan asked.
“I am actually, and that's part of the reason why I'm calling. I've just arrived, but this is a really awkward thing to ask. I've been focusing so much on my studies, and the shock of this news of what happened to Grandpa Joe has just totally destroyed any concept of time in my head. Could you tell me what the date is, and maybe what season we're in?”
“Oh, of course. Today is the first day of Erdon, which is also the first day of spring. If you're planning on taking up your grandpa's mantle and trying your hand at farming, we've got the best range of seeds in town. Whatever you do, don't go to the BuyLots Megamart. They've just moved into town and if they keep stealing all of our customers then BuyLots is the only place you're going to be able to buy anything from.”
I already knew right then and there that it would have to be a dire emergency with no other options for me to go and purchase something from a massive conglomeration like that. In the world that I came from, small businesses didn't exist for very long. There were no independent small businesses that had any kind of longevity. The massive corporations that owned multiple businesses and use the ingenuity and tenacity of small business owners just threw money whenever someone invented a good thing.
Soon enough the new idea, the one that everyone loved, would just become part of the corporate tapestry of some rich person who never knew a day of hard work in their life.
“You don't need to worry about that, Alan. Although I don't have a lot of money myself, I should have enough to get by for a little while. Hey, thank you for the information, and I'm sure I'll come into the store tomorrow and say hello face to face.”
“Well that sounds just fine,” Alan said.
“Until then,” I said.
“Until then,” Alan agreed.
I hung the phone up and put all of the seeds back into the box Grandpa Joe left for me. If I was going to head into town tomorrow, then I had plenty of work to do today. I took the banana out of the lunchbox that Marlene had left for me, peeled it, and ate it as I left the house. It was time to go and see what was in the shed.