Tevun Krus #127 - Best of 2024

Planned Obsolescence - A Story by @Elisabeth_Long

Planned Obsolescence

By Elisabeth_Long

Prompt: Grandma's secret past and 'certain set of skills' come to light when a school fieldtrip to an alien world goes wrong (prompted by RJGlynn).

The orderly, Donia, stomps through the open door of the office and stops before the Director's desk. She folds her thick arms over her chest. Her nitrile-gloved fingers tap a staccato rhythm on her biceps as she waits to be acknowledged. The Director is reading something off the Meta Channel on her desk tablet.

"NaNa84 wasn't in her bed this morning," Donia says without preamble the second the Director deigns to look up.

The Director slides the tablet screen off and leans back in her chair.

"Shut the door," she tells Donia.

The blare of a car horn draws my attention to the window beside the desk. The street below is busy with morning traffic. One vehicle appears stalled in the middle of the main lane. Looks fancy. Cars run on hydrogen fuel cells now, don't they? I saw that on an ad while I perused the Meta Channel last night. That reminds me, I used to have a vintage Tesla, stored at my house. Long gone now, no doubt. Both car and house.

The Director rises from her chair and heads to the beverage bar where she pours herself a coffee from the steaming pot.

"Where was the Grandma?" she asks.

The Grandma. How quaint.

The forms of address they use for us here –Grandmas and Grandpas– are supposed to foster warm feelings between residents and staff. I call BS.

"She was sitting on a bench in the staff lounge." Donia runs a beefy hand over her face. "Director, she was fully dressed in a staff uniform, with shoes on. NaNa84 looked me straight in the eye when she saw me and wished me 'Good morning, Donia'. Then..."

The orderly's voice trails off and she scowls.

"Then?" the Director prompts. She takes a sip from her mug before settling back down at her desk. Unlike Donia, the Director is all smooth movement and calm airs.

"Then she bent over and started doing all kinds of fancy tie-ups with the shoelaces."

I bite back a smile. What can I say? Thought I'd have a spot of fun at Donia's expense. The look on her face when she found me was priceless.

Of all the orderlies, I like Donia best. A cold-hearted bitch after my own heart. She likes slamming the food trays in front of us so hard things spill. She proceeds to force-feed those who can't hold their own utensils till they gag.

When it comes to bathing, she uses a washcloth like it's sandpaper and hoses us down without a care for the temperature or water pressure. She's also fond of jabbing hard when it comes to giving us injections or drawing blood. I rub the latest sore spot on my inner elbow.

Seriously though, if anyone should be scowling, it should be me. I was having fun before Donia showed up. It's only in the last three days or so that my hands and fingers have become nimble. Now I can clasp and pull and yank and snap and tie knots and do all kinds of twisty fun things with my thumbs again.

"Before you ask, Director, I was the one who put NaNa84 to bed last night. She was in her standard issue nightdress."

That synthetic piece of shit they put all of us in for bed. It's nothing more than plastic wrap. Man, what I wouldn't give for my old flannel pyjamas. They were fluffy and warm and indestructible in the wash. I wonder if pyjamas like that still exist.