Dad was tall like I remembered him. Stoic, unsmiling, seemingly inattentive but then suddenly remembering every little detail I'd told him since I was four. He always wore the same white coat, though it was old, and those worn shoes too. He didn't have a RobePrinter here in GutterVille. If he'd wanted one he probably could have gotten it though. My little brother followed him everywhere, wearing the same type of robe, the same serious expression. It was both cute and creepy.
It took him three days to finally let me into that back room he always went into first thing in the morning, and then didn't emerge from until late afternoon. When I saw what he had back there I wasn't shocked so much as bewildered. I mean, why would anyone need a mass of floating grey mold, in a giant fish-tank, big enough for a whale, with little tentacles reaching to the window, growing roots there, and to places all around?
"What the hell is it?" I asked. "Are you inventing a new kind of penicillin?"
"Antibiotics have been ineffective in all forms since 2050. What would be the point?" He said, evading the question, still staring at a table-screen. The screen was primitive but did the job and kept him off the ThinkingCap, which he'd sworn never to wear again. I looked at what he was mapping and it looked like an intricate, multilayered city, but with rivers instead of streets. No straight lines.
"Then what is it?" I tried again. "Is it alive?"
"Oh, its very much alive," he finally spoke up. "It's a living breathing organism. I'm measuring its vital signs, nutrient requirements, electrical emissions, growth rates,...everything really."
"And what does it do? Is it one of those protein cell generators? Designed to taste like cheeseburgers so we can eat it without gagging?"
"I suppose it could be eaten. Very fatty stuff. I couldn't be certain of the nutritional value."
I turned away from him. Couldn't stand it when he was like this. Totally evasive while pretending not to be evasive. Not even looking at me. Just continuing to draw more wavy rivers on his map, and little symbols that meant nothing to anybody but him.
Jim was on the other side of the room staring into a visor of some kind mounted near the fish tank. It looked like he was talking to someone. Someone very funny because he kept giggling. I decided to go over and talk to him, since Dad was about as helpful as a GuideBot right now.
"Hey dude," I said. I'd never talked to a five year old before. I didn't know what they called each other. "Who are you talking to?"
"It's Ollie," he said. "See." He moved his head out of the visor and motioned for me to take a look. I looked inside at Ollie. A holographical cartoonish image of a cat-dog hybrid who seemed exceptionally happy. And slobbery, because his huge tongue kept swiping through his mouth, back and forth, each time dripping virtual saliva. Jim went back to talking and giggling.
"What are you talking to Ollie about?" I asked. Refusing to give up. My father was hopeless but maybe I could have a real conversation with my little brother.
"Just stuff," he said. "Ollie knows everything. Anything I want to ask."
"Great," I said. "A know-it-all dog-cat. Just what every kid needs."
"He asks me a lot of questions too," said Jim. "He doesn't know anything about people. Or kids."
"Of course not," I said, losing patience. "Ollie is a cartoon. But you have a real live sister standing right here. I know a lot of stuff too. And to be honest, the Cap interfaces your father won't let you wear know everything about the world."
"He says I should pay attention," said Jim. "He says to tell you to wait your turn."
"Wait my turn for what?"
YOU ARE READING
MINDLYFT
Science FictionJennaBerry June is a mind-hacker living in a dystopian near future when all humans are obligated to become cyborgs, sidewalks in Los Angeles melt in the daytime, and inner city slums have been turned into penal colonies. Space elevators connect the...