Manners of the Age

In Short

Set on a sparsely populated, automated future Earth, Manners of the Age follows Robert, an isolated man whose comfortable routine is upended when he discovers a neighbor living a few hundred miles away. Curious for company, Robert travels by ground vehicle to visit Marcia-Joan, only to find that human interaction involves a frustrating collision of stubborn wills. The story explores the absurdities of absolute independence through sharp domestic comedy, offering a glimpse into a world where humans have forgotten how to live together.

The Story

Set upon a largely deserted future Earth where automated machines and robots handle every domestic need, Robert lives a life of absolute solitude and comfort. His days are spent playing tennis against mechanical opponents, swimming, and occasionally communicating via television with his distant, elderly acquaintance, Henry. During one of their talks, Robert mentions a newly discovered signal from a nearby resident named Marcia-Joan. Prompted by a mixture of boredom and curiosity about human contact, Robert decides to undertake a rare and exhausting journey across the rough, unrepaired ancient roads using ground vehicles. Upon arriving at Marcia-Joan's pale blue and yellow cottage, Robert is met by a stiff, striped robot and soon confronts the homeowner herself. The meeting instantly turns adversarial. Robert expects the automatic hospitality of his own estate, while Marcia-Joan displays a cool, analytical demeanor and a complete disregard for his habits. They clash over trivialities immediately: Robert is outraged to discover she has no swimming pool, and Marcia-Joan is appalled by the garish paint schemes of Robert's visiting robots. Their conversations devolve into petty bickering about diets, doors, and personal boundaries. When Robert instructs his machines to dig a makeshift pool near the brook, Marcia-Joan accidentally tumbles into it, sparking further fury and a tense physical scuffle involving automatic doors. As the days pass, the friction between them intensifies into outright hostility. Robert's robots clash violently with Marcia-Joan's major-domo, Lulu, culminating in a chaotic confrontation where Robert's machine smashes Lulu with a heavy toolbox during a struggle over entryways. Despite this disastrous introduction—or perhaps because of the sheer novelty of conflict—they somehow manage to register a marriage record by television, though Robert harbors deep resentment the entire time. A week after fleeing back to his own mansion, Robert chats with Henry on his telescreen, venting his grievances about Marcia-Joan's refusal to submit to his wishes. Henry listens sympathetically, pointing out the inevitable collision of two people accustomed to absolute personal autonomy. Unwilling to entertain the idea that he might be wrong, Robert continues his rant until Henry abruptly terminates the connection, leaving Robert alone once more with his obedient machines, exactly as he began.

How It Unfolds

A solitary routine Robert enjoys an isolated life on Earth, served entirely by robots and communicating with others only through television screens. Learning of a nearby female neighbor breaks his monotony and prompts a rare journey.

An abrasive arrival Traveling by ground vehicle over bumpy ancient roads, Robert reaches Marcia-Joan's cottage. Their initial meeting shatters any romantic notions of human companionship as they immediately begin arguing.

Domestic warfare The visit devolves into a series of petty conflicts over missing swimming pools, restrictive doors, and meager portions of food. Robert's attempt to remedy the lack of a pool by having his robots dig one results in Marcia-Joan tumbling into the cold water.

Escalating violence Tension reaches a breaking point when automated doors lock Robert out and robots clash physically. Robert's machine ultimately disables Marcia-Joan's major-domo with a heavy toolbox during a struggle over entryways.

An uneasy parting After a hastily registered television marriage that satisfies neither party, Robert flees back home. He complains to Henry about his neighbor's stubbornness, remaining entirely blind to his own inflexibility.

The People

Robert is a self-absorbed man accustomed to total luxury who values absolute control over his environment, schedule, and personal possessions. His primary obstacle is his own complete inability to tolerate disagreement, friction, or compromise, leading him to view other human beings as little more than malfunctioning machines when they fail to obey his immediate whims. Marcia-Joan is an equally stubborn, analytical individual who is fiercely protective of her own domestic space, dietary choices, and established routines. Her primary obstacle is Robert's boorish, intrusive refusal to respect her household rules, her preferences, or her architectural layout. Neither character fundamentally changes by the end of the narrative; instead, they remain locked in their rigid, isolated mindsets even after participating in an ill-advised marriage registered over the public library's television network. Henry acts as an aging, perceptive sounding board who understands the deeper cultural tragedy of a world populated by sovereign individuals who have completely forgotten how to negotiate differences, share spaces, or live alongside one another. He observes their conflicts with a dry, detached amusement that highlights the absurdity of their condition.

In Its Own Voice

Reflecting on the emptiness of Earth during a leisurely swim, Robert evaluates the strange reality of his isolated existence.

Although he had accepted this all his life, it really was remarkable how the original home of the human race had been forsaken for fresher worlds among the stars.

During their tense and bizarre first dinner together, Robert expresses absolute shock and open disdain at the meager food served by his host.

"A few bits of raw vegetables and the tiniest portion of protein-concentrate I ever saw!"

Speaking with Henry over the telescreen after his abrupt return home, Robert vents his lingering frustration over his neighbor's complete lack of cooperation.

"Everything in the house was run to suit her convenience."

What It's Really About

The story examines the profound psychological cost of absolute autonomy and total technological isolation. By stripping society down to a few scattered individuals who are entirely surrounded by obedient, subservient machines, Fyfe highlights how genuine human socialization fundamentally relies on compromise, friction, and shared social norms. When people live entirely as absolute rulers within their own private, walled spheres, they completely lose the capacity for empathy, patience, and cooperation. The narrative uses sharp, understated satire to suggest that true civilization requires a willingness to surrender some personal control, framing human relationships not as seamless conveniences, but as messy, unavoidable compromises.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate dry, mid-century science fiction satire focused on sharp character psychology rather than grand space battles will thoroughly enjoy this story. It feels like an intimate, witty chamber piece, capturing the quiet absurdity of modern isolation with a remarkably prescient eye. Reading it offers a delightful blend of gentle melancholy and understated humor, evoking a world where hyper-convenience has completely eroded basic social resilience and manners. While the story reflects mid-century cultural tropes in its depiction of routine male-female friction, its core questions about technology, hyper-independence, and the profound difficulty of living alongside others feel sharply relevant today. What stays with you long after finishing is the indelible image of two overgrown individuals, entirely accustomed to getting their own way in everything, who are utterly baffled by the simple, messy act of sharing physical space. It is a compact, sharply observed comedic gem that richly rewards readers looking for smart, character-driven speculative fiction.