“Morning comes early in New Forrest,” thought Sergey. The cool sounds of flowing water and the rush of wind through tree leaves gently encouraged Sergey to awaken further. He moved the covers back, sat up, and placed his feet on the floor. The floor was always a cool reminder that flowing water and real trees would not greet him today. The artificial ones, with their micro turbines always collecting energy from any passing breeze, always made a thin whine that set Sergey on edge. The cool of the floor seeping its way up Sergy’s ankles and into his lower calves further motivated him to rise. Sergey was grateful, however, that although the floor was cool, it was never cold and biting.
Long faded memories of his birthplace bubbled to the surface of Sergey’s awakening memory. “Ahhh Pohlska, I wonder if my family is still there,” Zaed muttered following a particularly satisfying stretch. He had grown up in a small Siberian town. That was cold, really cold. If the temperature control in the house ever went on the fritz, it tended to make people curl their toes toward the ceiling and hop across the floor as if they were marionettes on invisible strings.