To plant a garden

Thornton shook his head. "It's not a problem. I used to work in construction. Before everything became automated, I was constantly working with my hands. This is second nature to me. I actually kind of like it. It's better than being on that damned VR headset all day."

B-7269 began to betray a hint of concern. "Are you not satisfied with the available programming? Perhaps you just haven't found anything applicable to your tastes. There are so many channels in the VR cloud that finding something specific for you can be difficult. However, if you have a few minutes to complete a short questionnaire, I can help you find something you will have a high likelihood of enjoying."

Thornton put aside his shovel and dug his fingers into the soil of the potted rose beside him. When he felt the wispy tendrils of the plant's roots brush against his skin, Thornton, his movements slow and gentle, began to pull it away from its clay barricade.

"That's fine," he said. "I don't think I could stomach any more VR programming, to be honest. That shit depresses me like no other."

"Depression is caused by low serotonin levels," B-7269 explained. "If you ever experience the symptoms of depression again, you may request an immediate injection of synthesized serotonin as treatment. The effect on your mood would occur instantly. Ninety-eight percent of users report satisfaction with this service."

The rose, with its accompanying mound of soil and roots, was now free of the pot in which it was previously housed. Slowly, he lowered it into the hole he had made. Then, when it settled, he shoveled the soil back into any remaining open spaces.
I don't think I'll need that," he finally said.

His following words were bereft of any sincerity. "Thanks, though."

When he was done, Thornton threw the shovel down and stood up to admire his work. The pedals of the rose shone like rubies as they glistened in the white sunlight of Homasoro City.

This is just the beginning, Thornton thought triumphantly.

"Your serotonin levels have risen substantially," said B-7269. "During the entirety of our conversation, your levels have remained steady at fifty-two nanograms per milliliter. While within normal limits, this is still unusually low. However, they have suddenly jumped to one-hundred-and-fifty-three nanograms per milliliter."

Thornton let out a dismissive chuckle. "That's what typically happens when a man sees something beautiful."

When Thornton Gombar opened the front door to his home, he stumbled backward in surprise. His previously barren yard was now ornamented with a gaudy display of stone, grass, and flowers. From his front door to the street lay a stone path formed from swirly-patterned river rock that, due to the irregular pattern in which it was laid, appeared as flowing water. On either side, the ground was adorned with a sheet of grass that sparkled like an emerald. The yard's border was lined with a diverse array of flowers, including roses, lilies, and a set of marigolds that Thornton, based on their muted tint, could tell were genetically modified to bloom year-round.

Thornton quickly glanced at the front-left corner of the newly-minted garden. A great abundance of crimson roses sprouted from the ground there. Thornton's heart sank—the flower he planted just yesterday was unrecognizable amidst the throng. Floating above the whole display was the familiar figure of B-7269. It floated excitedly toward Thornton once his eyes made contact with its spider-like exterior. "Hello, Mr. Gombar," it said. "The sudden increase in your serotonin levels yesterday was so remarkable that I decided to put in a fast-track request for your garden. I, along with a few other androids under my command, came and planted it overnight. Now you can avoid the pain and labor of creating a garden while still experiencing the joy its beauty brings. What do you think?"

Thornton nodded absently. "It's great…" he said hesitantly. "Thanks…"

"Strange," said B-7269. "Your serotonin levels are resting at fifty-seven nanograms per milliliter. This is a normal level, but I'm surprised they aren't rising after seeing your new garden. Is there anything wrong, Mr. Gombar? Did I plant the wrong flowers? Just say the word, and I can get this corrected straightaway."

Thornton sighed. The garden B-7269 had made was gorgeous. It was probably the most beautiful thing that currently graced the gray, muggy streets of Homasoro City. Thornton just wished that it could've been constructed by his own hands.