Analise's Grandma Rex
Annalise’s
grandmother lies in a bed, tiny amidst green sheets, tubes and wires,
and beeping machines. The stench of bodily fluids and bleach
permeates the windowless ward. Grandma reaches a wizened hand through
the side rails and clutches Annalise’s arm.
“Get
me out of here. I hate hospitals—” Grandma starts to cough.
Each
hack reverberates through Annalise’s own chest. She waits for the
episode to pass, pats the old woman’s hand and speaks gently,
“These machines are keeping you alive, Grandma.”
“I
don’t care. I’m bored.”
On
the other side of the stained blue curtain, an old man shouts and
someone moans.
They
are confined to the geriatric palliative ward. It’s tucked away in
a beige-tiled subterranean level, where the dying won’t bother the
younger patients in their private, sunny rooms.
On
Annalise’s first visit two days earlier, an old geezer cackled and
told a joke. “Close to the morgue—for convenience.”
That
was the day after Annalise wrangled a week of unpaid leave from her
job at the largest VR gaming corporation in the world.
“Better
hope your granny goes quick,” her Reality Tech boss said. “Time’s
a crunching. Get some work done while you’re sitting around and
don’t expect to take more days for a funeral.”
She
gave the finger to his retreating back.
Her
narrow skill-set involves building user-interfaces into the
personality programs of the company’s proprietary line of life-size
mechanical toys. The work crushes her soul, but the non-compete,
non-disclosure clauses in her contract are iron-clad according to two
different—and expensive—employment lawyers.
She’s
trapped.
She
glances at the bed. Grandma has fallen into a fitful sleep.
She
notices the seniors have two things in common: insight gained over
the decades and a resulting anger they actively repress in order to
survive.
Her
own anger bubbles. She should have paid more attention to Grandma
these last years. Instead, she worked long hours of overtime,
foregoing a personal life because she thought she could make a
difference in the world. How naïve she’d been and look where it’s
gotten her—forty-eight years old, no personal life to speak of,
holding vigil at the deathbed of her last living relative.
Fretting
about things she cannot change won’t get the work done. Annalise
grabs her briefcase and pulls out an uplink, control panel and
head-set. Regular network signals can’t penetrate the concrete
basement, but Reality Tech’s satellite signal is almost full
strength.
She
enters VR and works for an hour, regularly checking on Grandma. A
special order from the Far East has her boss’s knickers in a
knot—life-sized and life-like dinosaurs for the tenth birthday of
the child of a richer-than-Satan investor. The project is obscene
when contrasted against the everyday reality of millions of people,
like the impoverished seniors around her.
But
even this level of care is only possible because Annalise signed an
undertaking to pay medical costs exceeding Grandma’s limited health
insurance.
“What’s
that you’re doing?”
Annalise
startles. Eyes bright and alert, Grandma is awake.
Reality
Tech’s development projects are top-secret. Annalise opens her
mouth to deliver the standard response—a series of carefully
constructed lies—but thinks twice. What’s the harm? Who will
Grandma tell?
Annalise
explains about the dinosaurs. The technology fascinates her even if
she despises its application. She barely registers the snick of
curtains being pulled back. Too late, she notices the entire ward is
paying attention. Her heart jolts and stutters.
Grandma
pats her hand. “Can I try?”
“Of
course.” Annalise swallows and looks around. “Please don’t tell
anyone. I’ll lose my job.”
A
blue-haired lady pipes up, “We won’t give away your secret, but
it would be nice if we got a turn too.”
Murmurs
and nods of assent from across the ward.
An
old saying of her Grandma’s comes to mind. “In for a penny,”
Annalise murmers.
Grandma
smiles.
Annalise
places the opaque goggles and headset on Grandma. “It links you
into a mechanical toy. You can choose to do little things—drink
water or lie down—but the program controls most of the experience.
Don’t try anything wild or the test centre will notice.”
For
the next two days, the seniors take turns inhabiting the dinosaurs.
Annalise creates an app to enhance their experience. For the first
time in a long time she’s excited about the work, and spends long
hours fine-tuning the interface. She hides the new programming behind
firewalls and messages the site staff to let them know she’s
running a series of pre-operation tests.
It
works. Annalise relaxes—no one will find out. She’s heard more
laughter down here, seen more smiles, than she has in a long time.
Some of the seniors even look younger.
Then,
Mr. Gray in the third bed dies while inhabiting a triceratops. After
Annalise retrieves the headset and goggles, she’s unable to
establish contact with the dinosaur.
A
moment of panic.
She
should do a site visit to ensure the programming is working smoothly,
but showing up at the company warehouse will signal to her boss that
she’s returned to work.
“Maybe
I should stop.” Annalise buries her face in her hands. “I’m
breaking so many rules they could do a lot worse than fire me.”
Grandma
reassures her. “This is a wonderful gift, but we’ll understand if
you can’t.”
Annalise
blinks through tears. Grandma’s generous nature is one of the many
things she loves about her. “It occurs to me that following the
rules is part of my problem.”
Grandma
smiles.
Betty,
the woman with blue hair passes next, seizing up as she cackles with
laughter. Five more follow. The nurses wander in, unfazed, and cart
away the bodies. Apparently, the death rate is normal.
Annalise’s
programming continues to glitch. She’s no longer trying to get the
dinosaurs back on-line. Her boss will fire her if she doesn’t fix
the problem. She’s not sure she wants to.
She
clutches Grandma’s hand. “It’s my last day, but I want to stay
with you.”
“It’s
okay, sweetie.” Grandma chuckles. “I could use one last ride in
that magnificent T-Rex.”
Love
and grief fill Annalise. She places the headset. A sob escapes her
lips. Grandma is the last of the original group.
The
machines shriek as Grandma’s eyes film over.
Annalise’s
satellite phone rings. Her boss shouts, “Get back here now! The
dinosaurs left the centre. It’s like they have minds of their own.”
Annalise
grabs the headset, and sprints past an incoming orderly. Picking up a
fire-extinguisher from next to the nurse’s station, she smashes the
lock of the medicine cabinet and grabs a handful of bottles.
Even
her dense boss will figure it out soon. Grandma and the other seniors
need her. Crawling between two dumpsters in the alley, she conceals
herself with cardboard boxes, and uplinks and partitions the
satellite. It should take weeks—with luck, months—for Reality
Tech programmers to break her code.
Her
hands shake. She stuffs her mouth with pills and swallows.
It’s
hard to recall specifics, but the seniors liked the bigger dinosaurs.
She chooses a velociraptor. Something fast to catch up with them.