by Tom Germann
Chapter 12
The next day I had to go visit my grampa with Dad. He was grumpy and always had been. When Grandmamma passed away, he had gotten grumpier and Dad never really liked going to visit him because, as he said, “Grampa is stuck in the past and what went wrong for him. He needs to look forward, but it’s hard for his generation to do that.”
When I would go there, it was usually with Mom. I was always nervous because I always got grilled on what I had done and was going to do with myself in the future.
This time Dad was going in on one of those rare days off. Mom was organizing a charity drive to work on improving the Projects, and so here I was.
We drove there in silence, with Dad listening to the latest stock reports and reviewing what was going on in the markets. He was the head of the state’s training department and kept telling me how important it was to stay current. “If we fail, then the Corporation fails, which means that people will lose jobs. If I do my job well, then I maintain the jobs. And if I do great? Then more jobs are created.”
I never faulted him for working so much. It was why we had what we did and Mom could stay home and we could have the great parties in our area.
I just checked out the scenery as we drove along. There were beautiful trees and small parks all over. We were heading into the downtown core, and we went from detached houses to townhouses and lots of apartment buildings. It was a smooth ride with not much traffic on a Thursday afternoon. Having four lanes going right through the city was the best thing that city planning had ever done.
We didn’t go fast, but it was a constant speed, and with mostly electric cars there was not much noise or pollution. Heck, when they built the underground rapid transit lines for bulk transport, that was just top-notch and traffic was decreased a lot.
But we lived in a state that had more upgrades than elsewhere. I had seen pictures of Europe, Africa and the Middle East, where vehicles were still run on fossil fuels or mixes. All the cities were electric, but the world was a big place.
It was kinda cool when we took the environmental classes in education. Our carbon footprint had decreased over the last thirty years. Within a hundred, there would only be fuel-burning engines for practice or in museums.
It was cool to think that way. But I really hoped that in a hundred years I wouldn’t be in a retirement home like Grampa. He was so grumpy and down all the time. I didn’t get it.
I saw the latest ads for newsfeeds on the billboards as we drove along. The pictures moved and danced along, pushing whatever marketing people wanted.
When we pulled up to the nursing home, Dad looked at me. “Timothy, would you be okay going to the convenience store and getting us both some drinks? I want to talk to Grampa quickly. He isn’t going to want to see me for long as I’m too much of a bureaucrat for him to handle.” Dad said it with a smile, but I knew it hurt him a bit that his dad wasn’t proud of him.
“Yeah, sure, Dad. You want the standard Cola that Mom doesn’t want you drinking?”
He smiled, which was rare; it made him look young. “You got it, Tim!” He handed me a fifty and I headed for the convenience store.
I walked into the store and headed to the fridges. I grabbed Dad’s favourite and an energy drink for myself. Then I snagged a medium-sized bag of the snacks that Mom rolled her eyes at. Dad loved those…
I hopped in line to pay and watched the screen while I waited. It was one of the shows on the net and they were comparing the latest action movies to old footage on how the Corporate Marines worked. The only problem was, the bad guys in the movies were robots so they didn’t work like the footage showed, which was unrealistic. They should move faster and with better tracking after so many years of potential development. Then, the Marine armour’s movement was based on the media release from thirty years ago.
I had seen the movie; it was awesome and all the good guys die, but they save the world in doing so.
I came up to the counter and scanned everything through. I paid the eighteen dollars and headed back, slowly sipping at my drink.
I went inside the home and headed upstairs to the floor that Grampa was on, then grabbed a seat in the sunroom that they had set up in the middle of the building.
I never got it. The nursing home is BIG. It is set up as an apartment building with thirty stories, with a long central hallway and small rooms for the inmates (that’s what Grampa calls them), off of that. There are four elevators available just off the centre of the building. On every floor there is a large sun room in the center that sticks out and gives an awesome view. I have almost never seen more than a few people in any of them and most of the people just don’t use them.
I asked the staff and they told me that over half the residents stay in their rooms not even bothering to come down for meals. I mean, they have special seats with robot brains that can move them around and they can do lots of stuff here.
Most just don’t, though.
I keep getting told that this is how this generation is. I never understood it and I never want to. Get up and go do something, even if it’s only checking out the skyline from the twenty-third floor of the building. It’s way better to do that than just sit in your room watching news all day with the blinds closed, grumbling.
Grampa always got me down, but he was family and it was important to try to make his days a bit brighter.
I saw Dad come out of the room and head toward the elevator. I waved so he saw me. He walked up; I handed him the bag and the change and raised an eyebrow. Mom did that when she was curious but didn’t want to ask.
He gave me a hug, which was bizarre. “Tim, I understand if you only want to go in for a minute. Grampa is having a grumpy day. I can wait here for you?”
I didn’t get much time like this with my Dad. I gave him a hug back because I knew he wanted one and I gave him the out he needed. “Naw, you go downstairs, Dad. You can enjoy your drink and some snacks and focus on the business stuff. I’ll go visit with Grampa and let him grumble and get it out of his system. You know the staff say he is always a bit better for a few days after he vents, right?”
We were walking toward the elevator now and Dad hit the button.
He looked surprised. “Your mom had said that but I never really believed it. Okay big guy, you go and deal. I’ll be downstairs, and will try not to eat all the junk food.”
The door slid open and he entered holding the bag.
I eyed him. “Really? Last time we had a bag, I had to lick the crumbs out.”
As the doors closed, he was smiling. “You can trust me!”
The doors clicked shut and I headed for Grampa’s room. I knew Dad was going to eat everything. I should have kept the change so I could get a bigger bag after this meeting.
I was going to need it if Grampa was grumpy.
I walked down the hall, with its cheerful and sunny flooring and walls. The place was super clean and tidy and I knew they had automated cleaning robots that zoomed up and down the hall in the middle of the night freshening the air, but it still felt depressing.
I walked up to the door and knocked.
“Come in! I was expecting you and I ain’t deaf!”
I opened the door and there was Grampa Labaron sitting in his wheelchair with, of course, the blinds closed and the lights on full.
“Hi, Grampa! How are you doing? And why are you sitting in the dark?”
I walked over to give him a hug and he gave me a whack on the back.
“Well, I’m old and waiting to die is what I’m doing. I am not sitting in the dark. I have the lights on and it is as bright as day. Now, your dad was just in here trying to be all super “everything is wonderful”; I wonder how my son could be so blind to the situation that the world is in today? What do you think, Timmy boy?”
I stood up and moved to the window and opened the blinds. The view is awesome. The window
s start at a foot off the floor and you can see off into the distance. I saw it at night once, when the city was lit up like a Christmas tree. It was so beautiful. I wonder why Grampa—
The chair zipped by me and Grampa flipped the automatic switch. The blinds closed again and I was stuck staring at the little lights coming through the slats.
“Timmy, I don’t like those blinds open. I don’t need people staring in at me like I’m in some sort of fishbowl and watching me when I go into the bathroom.”
I turned and looked; the bathroom entrance was at a ninety-degree angle off the little entry hall. No one could see in.
I mentally shrugged; it was Grampa.
I grabbed a seat on the small couch that he never used. “Well, the windows are tinted, Grampa, and no one can see in and the view is great. As for everything else, life is good. I am doing good at school, with some okay grades. Math is still hard for me. Mom and Dad are doing well and we just had that street party a few weeks ago. There are lots of good times going on. The newest version of Marines HO! That Virtual Reality game that everyone plays is pretty good too. You know I have nothing to complain about. Dad said that the economy is growing and that they are really trying to close the North Am Projects in a few years.”
I stopped and thought about the news media covering who still lived there. It would be good when they were finally torn down and the criminals were cleared out.
He snorted at me and the look on his face was almost disgust. “So your parents brainwashed you, huh? You’re growing up to be as shallow as they are. I knew that when your dad married your mom there was going to be trouble. My wife was okay with her but she was concerned as well, I could tell! Married to her for forty-five years, I knew how she thought. Well, your mom did whatever she had to, to land your dad, and now she’s turning your head!”
I felt a flush of anger growing and spreading throughout my body. I looked at Grampa in shock.
He just kept going. “Yup, if you do well at school, hopefully you can get yourself a good enough job so that you can put aside enough resources for when it gets bad. I don’t know what they are teaching you at school with all that implant nonsense going on. Computers were good enough when I was growing up. Heck, my dad—your great-grandpa—didn’t even have electricity or regular meals because of that damn alien invasion. You have to pull the cover off of your eyes, boy. Everything you love is meaningless when they come back. Your stupid mother can’t see that; all she worries about is block parties.”
He was glaring at me and almost spitting. “You watch, those poor wretches that are living in the Projects? They are going to be better off than we are when the whole system comes crashing down! That’s when the Corporation —all hail the mighty Glentol Corporation!—will be putting most of us into virtual reality games, because it’s better than the real world! I can only hope and pray that the Isolationist movement wins and we finally start fortifying Earth in preparation for when the next invasion comes, instead of wasting our resources!”
He was red-faced and furious. He had leveraged himself up and out of his chair and was waving his arms around.
I could barely hear him as he kept on going on and on. I didn’t know why he was spewing forth such hatred and rage.
But Grampa, no matter how much he ranted, was still old. Heck, he was in his eighties. He ran out of energy and then sat down. He seemed to deflate then and go all quiet and pale.
He was slumped in his chair with his head down. I was staring at his short brush cut. I could hear him panting now.
I just looked at him. Part of me wanted to get up and yell at him and carry on like he had. But I stopped myself and kept breathing like my martial arts instructors had taught me.
The rage and anger slowly faded away until I felt more in control. I was still angry, but I could control it.
It didn’t make any sense to hurt him. He was my grampa; he was old, tired, his wife was gone, and he was left to sit in this great, nice building along with all the other elderly while their kids visited once every few weeks, if ever.
It wasn’t his fault he thought this way.
I knew that wasn’t totally true. Most people from his generation had ended up like this, sorta. That’s what my social teachers said. An entire generation scarred by being born and growing up after the invasion. All the death and struggle had scarred them. One of the things that had changed was that “political correctness” was gone. Things that were bad for you were cool again, like smoking and drinking. Drug use? As long as it did not interfere with how you worked, it was ignored in the younger generation. This was the lashback against the suffering. Of course, cigars and cigarettes had been modified so that the risk of cancer or other sicknesses had been decreased a lot. Medical knowledge was also better, so if you did get sick, you could be cured. What a great time to live in, unless we were invaded again… The generation following my grandparents was different. People like my parents wanted to work hard but still play. I had heard about swingers and extreme sports. I know they were talking about my generation as the generation that only wanted to play. For us there were “no rules.” That was a load of crap, though.
He had always been like this to some extent. But it was worse now that he was older.
I just sat there and told myself he was old and maybe suffering from dementia or some other old-person sickness. I kept telling myself that, but I was still in shock, angry, and felt sick that he could say those things.
He sat there in his chair breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. I hadn’t seen him this active since I was a small kid and he used to take me to a park and chase me on the climbers. A small part of me wondered if he was going to die, he looked so bad.
He lifted his head and looked at me. It struck me how sad and lost he looked.
He spoke quietly, coughing a bit once in a while. “I don’t remember much about the first years of my life. I was born after the invasion. But I do remember being hungry and times being bad. People not wanting to live in the cities or near the coast anymore. I remember growing up and then joining the army. There was no more political correctness and the military was huge but poorly equipped. But if they came back, we were going to fight. Then they didn’t come back, and it was like so many people just forgot that we were invaded or that hundreds of millions of people died.”
His voice was getting quieter and I had to struggle to hear him. “Everyone in your parents’ generation, and it looks like yours, is more concerned with having a good time than preparing for when they come back. Those big, bad, evil killing robots were sent by some bad-ass aliens. The aliens aren’t dead. We didn’t win the war, Tim. We would have lost if they had kept pushing. What are you doing to prepare for when they come back?”
Grampa wound down after that and just sat there breathing quietly.
I just sat there in shock. I was angry at him for saying those things. My family worked hard and tried hard. The alien thing? I had never really thought about it. I knew the lessons about the invasion. I also knew the reality of star travel, just like everyone else did. Interstellar or intergalactic or whatever else you wanted to call it. Real space warfare was not feasible or possible. I had always just thought that the aliens had their society collapse or something else had happened as they couldn’t afford the war.
But what had happened to them?
I mean, Grampa was right. There were still big parts of the Earth that were recovering, and not everyone got everything to eat that they wanted to, but there had always been people going to bed hungry. Any area that was doing well, and even most of the poor ones, did more of the things that were bad for them more often now.
We hadn’t forgotten.
Then I thought about all the movies and series about the war that I had seen. I guess most of my friends did like to play and most didn’t really believe the aliens were still out there. I even knew a few insane-os that thought the i
nvasion had been run by a government or the Corporation.
We must have sat there for five minutes or more while he recovered and I sat in shock.
After that, we just sort of started talking about normal small-talk stuff. Grades, and how I was getting a part-time job as long as my schoolwork didn’t suffer. He liked hearing about that.
I guess we talked for a long time. I could see it was getting darker outside through the closed blinds.
I remember getting up and saying bye and giving Grampa a hug. I walked down the hall and took the elevator to the parking lot like a robot.
I got into the car and Dad was reading some report while listening to some classic Rammstein. I always preferred the Skretch Death Metal that was popular today, but Rammstein? I had grown up listening to them.
He shut the report down when I got into the car. I could see the snack bag had been destroyed and was sitting on my seat empty.
I just looked at him. He shrugged. I couldn’t stay upset when he had that look on his face.
I sighed as I sat in the car. He had cheered me up with that comic shrug and lost look of his but I guess I didn’t look happy to him.
“So what happened up there, Tim? You were a long time. I was going to come and get you soon as it’s getting late.”
I looked at the reactive window on the car and looked over the heads-up display as the car activated. “Sorry, Dad. You were right; Grampa was in a bad mood and said a lot of bad things. I don’t think I agree with all of them, and I’m still wrapping my view around what he said. After that, we started over and talked a lot about nothing.”
The car was running, but Dad didn’t put it in drive yet. He just looked at me. “I’m sorry; I should have read that better and stayed with you, but I thought Grampa would be better with you. You were always his favourite.”