My Wish Is Your Command

Epilogue

Lisa Simpson, age twenty-one, was returning home after another rewarding day as president and CEO of her environmental consulting startup. She had created the business plan for the company as her senior thesis project at Yale—where she graduated summa cum laude at age nineteen—and so far, it was thriving.

She got out of her car and looked up at the hill where many wind turbines spun, generating electricity for the town. When Lisa got her powers at age eight, she’d cleaned up Springfield’s nuclear waste with a wave of her hand, and with another wave replaced its reactors with a wind farm. These days, her father and his former coworkers from the power plant now wore overalls and straw hats—Lisa had thought it would be cute if their uniforms were in keeping with the “farm” theme—and spent their days breathing fresh air as they maintained the turbines.

She walked into the small but beautiful house she shared with her life partner, Sam Bergstrom. A few years back, after she had given him a permanent position at Springfield Elementary, she had rejuvenated him to her own biological age and invited him to move in with her.

There was one other resident in their home. He occupied a back room and did most of the housework, as well as certain other tasks. He was cleaning the kitchen counters when Lisa came in.

“Bart,” she said, “make sure my EV is waxed and charged by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Lisa,” the young man replied meekly.

“Fully charged,” she added. “Unless you want me to put you on the treadmill again so you can charge the battery the old-fashioned way.”

“No, Lisa, it’ll be all topped off, I swear!”

“Good,” Lisa replied smugly.

She went and sat down at the desk of her home office. Then, eying Bart, she shucked off her panties.

“Now come over here,” she said. “Before you start cooking dinner, you’re going to have a little appetizer.”