Getting Out
This short story was written as a part of a writing workshop by Anderson P. Smith in Fishkill Correctional Facility through Rehabilitation Through The Arts in 2016. I had to dig it out because I came across a few cool links in my CryptoArt journeys that verify the futurist vision of AR/AI pets. See https://beta.cent.co/+sutrc2 and https://vrscout.com/news/beast-pets-leading-the-way-vr-pets/
Favorite place to be: not standing outside a prison on a hot summer day with my brother Kashawn ignoring me and air-coding.
We’re here, just waiting, waiting, waiting endlessly for the father I’d never met. We thought we’d only have to wait a few minutes for them to let him out, but it had already been over 2 hours. Kashawn was lost in his heads-up glasses, soft-hacking a script to make and cancel lyft car reservations. He was trying to force the driverless car that dropped us off to stick around for free.
But I was bored. So while Kashawn amused himself being a fake hacker, I played with his PET(Perception Enhanced Thinking-PET, yeah, that’s recursive) dragon. I know everybody’s got PETs and they’re mostly for kids, but Saurus was coded smarter. Like all PETs, any phone, implant, or heads-up with the PET interface could see him. Kashawn uses his glasses; I use my implants. Kashawn had beefed up the AI so Saurus can learn all kinds
of new games; now Saurus will just sneak up and pounce on you. Drives me crazy, but it kept me sane while we waited forever.
When Dad (Kashawn said I can’t just call him “James” or “your father”) finally walked out the back door of the jail I expected hugs and maybe a mushy family moment. Instead, he looked over the two of us and said, “Where’s your mother?”
Okay, hi Dad, nice to meet you after 10 years. Kashawn was silent and fumbling, so I figured, this being my first conversation ever with our father, I should be the one to break it to him.
There’s no nice way to say the woman you love is completely paralyzed and communicates with the world through a voice synthesizer. So I said it plainly, and I thought with enough sensitivity.
Dad totally ignored me, looked to Kashawn and asked all over again as if I was making the whole thing up. His flying arms and raw screams made the guys on the tower grip their guns and stare down at us. I wanted to leave and right then I didn’t care if our father came with us or not.
Always the peacemaker, Kashawn decided to change the subject from mom and give Dad his present. He totally just shoved it toward Dad and destroyed our whole well-planned we-love-you-dad ceremony. Kashawn’s all crazy about tech stuff so he assumed Dad would want the latest phone. I thought it was a good idea too, so I’d pitched in from my savings.
We both stood there, waiting for Dad to say thanks — or something.
Nothing. Dad peeled off the plastic wrapper and let it blow away on the too-hot breeze.
Whatever. I walked off. Kashawn joined me and told Dad we’d be taking the lyft car to the train. We waited while Dad looked at the car with confusion. Kashawn started explaining the concept of eCars: GPS, sensor grids. Dad interrupted him and said, “it drives itself,” like he had figured out a great mystery.
I couldn’t help it; I smiled and blew air out my nose.
Saurus jumped up to me, ready to play, so I swatted him away. Then he dive-bombed me. It’s like a game of chicken. Sometimes I can’t help it, I have to move. Damn dragon won that round. He was totally gloating, doing circles in the air. I noticed Dad pointing at me and talking to Kashawn. I realized Dad couldn’t see Saurus at all. I must’ve looked nuts to him, dodging invisible crap. Kashawn tried to explain the whole thing, gave up and just handed Dad his glasses.
Dad put them on. This must have been the first time he’d used a heads-up display. Every object he focused on would get searched, labeled, and linked, with all the info floating in the air near it. He’d be able to see Kashawn’s and my pub-Ids, and our friends and groups. Dad’s face showed how overwhelmed he was. But I could see that the purple dragon PET really stunned him. “It looks so real,” he gushed. Kashawn broke down how Saurus learns from experience.
Great, la-dee-da, old guy meets new tech. I was bored with this whole magic glasses moment and was wishing we could get out of the heat and away from the prison. I suggested that maybe we could leave. Dad scowled at my sass and led the march the last few feet to the lyft car. Dad groped at the edge of the car door.
I saw him struggling, but I didn’t want to say anything because I could tell he was getting sick of me already. So I just watched as he tried to shove his fingers in and pull at the tiny groove at the edge of the door. Do I feel sorry for him or make fun of him? Ugh.
“How do you get this thing open!?” he shouted, pounding on the glass in frustration.
Kashawn said, “Car, open door.” The door slid open smoothly.
Behind Kashawn’s glasses, the look on Dad’s face was sad and dark. He looked like he was ready to have another yelling fit when Saurus dive-bombed him. Dad dodged suddenly and waved his hands to ward off the untouchable dragon.
I couldn’t help it; I laughed.
There we were: just your typical happy family standing on a train platform. There was the dermport machine, so of course Kashawn was staring at it, dreaming of a free sample. Saurus was loving all the other PETs. Dad occupied himself by staring at people through Kashawn’s glasses. He looked so silly that Kashawn asked for them back. Dad grunted and took them off, then he pulled out his phone and demanded that one of us show him how to use it. Clearly, my smoothness had come from mom.
Kashawn slid his glasses back on, eyes bouncing left and right. He announced the southbound train would be here in six minutes. I knew my brother was dying to get a quick fix. “Dermaport: addiction-free, anonymous and autonomous mood regulation for you!” went the holo-ad. “Try Silk and enjoy smooth satisfaction.” I hate those ads!
My brother has tiny dermport tubes in his wrist that hold his favorites: Focus, Comedown, Bliss, Fight-or-Fight, and some other crap. Those tubes had been dry since early that morning. One straight sample of Silk from the machine would have him numb for at least an hour. Silk wasn’t one of his favorites, but at the moment, I figured he was both cheap and desperate.
I told Dad I’d show him how to use his phone. Kashawn looked at me with thanks in his eyes. My bro is such a port-head.
I started showing Dad the apps and the games, but he was only interested in one thing: “I want to talk to your mom; I want to call Beatrice.”
I hesitated a little, wondering how Dad would react to seeing mom’s real state, especially after how he’d flipped out earlier. “Okay,” I told him. I showed him how to facetime mom. I could see past Dad’s shoulder where Kashawn was shoving his arm into the dermport machine. Damned designer drugs got my bro so hooked he doesn’t even know he’s trapped.
I’m not sure if Dad noticed Kashawn porting because the phone was doing its little “connecting” animation and that had Dad’s attention. The sight of him — this big, muscled man hunched over this tiny device was funny, but kind-of made me like him.
Dad jerked his head up and looked at me, “What’s your brother doing?” Holy crap, I thought, how am I going to explain dermport drugs to Dad? I umm-ed and ahh-ed for a second, trying to think.
Suddenly, Mom’s sad body filled the screen. Dad forgot all about Kashawn-all about me, too. “Bee, oh my God, look at you!” Dad screamed. His body shook. His distress was starting to infect me, a tightness in my neck and shoulders.
Kashawn worked his way back toward us. His tight face looked like Silk was tickling his underarms and he was forcing himself not to giggle. I could see Dad’s eyes starting to water and I imagined how it must look to him: the whole mad-scientist machine army that kept mom alive. My stomach did some weird flippy thing. Dad screamed into the phone, spit connecting his open lips, “Bee, say something. Bee, talk to me!”
I told him to wait a second, it takes a while for mom to form the words in her mind. As I was talking, Mom’s synthesized voice came through the phone, “Hi baby, I love you. I’ve missed you so much.”
At that, my Dad — big, angry, and un-sentimental — broke down completely. He sobbed through his teeth, “I love you too, Bee.”
It didn’t feel right listening, but I couldn’t turn away. I glanced at Kashawn and asked him calmly, “Silk?” He answered me with a hazy smirk.
Kashawn and I stood in a strange limbo while Dad reconnected with mom. I could see Dad’s heart breaking from what he saw on the phone. Dad turned toward the two of us and put the phone down. Seeing the tears running down his face made my throat burn.
“Come here, boys,” he said, “I love you.” He smooshed us into an awkward group hug as the arriving train pushed a loud wall of air into the station.
Silk had Kashawn too high to feel like crying, and I knew I didn’t want to either.
But I couldn’t help it.
Saurus silently flapped his wings above us.
On the train, Dad stared at everybody through his phone. I sat next to him and tried to show him features other than minding other people’s business. Kashawn sat across from us and stared out the window.
Saurus really seemed to capture Dad’s attention. Dad watched the dragon play with other passenger’s PETs in the aisle. “This is unbelievable.” He muttered softly to himself.
I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make him feel bad. So I shut up. Rare, I know.
“A week ago, a bird got inside our block.” Dad said.
This definitely sounded like a story, and I instantly wanted to hear all of it. The train was rocking and my eyes were puffy and heavy. I leaned into Dad’s side, to hear him better, to be closer. He didn’t push me away.
He kept on talking, “It flew around and into my cell. It looked like it was just a very young bird. It was panicking and kept flying into walls and hurting itself.”
Kashawn, deep in Silk, turned to listen.
“Before I could catch it, it flew out my cell. The windows have bars on the outside and a mesh gate on the inside. Only one gate stays open with an open window at the bottom.
The stupid bird kept flying too high to see the way out.”
The train rattled. Dad spoke. My eyes closed.
“The gates have small openings at the top. The bird sat on top of a locked mesh gate and dropped inside the space. It got trapped between the gate and the window. Once it realized it was stuck, it went nuts. It couldn’t fly out. I watched it for hours. It wore itself out trying. It bashed itself again and again against the gate and the glass.
“Guys heading out to programs all saw the bird. They had dumb stuff to say. I called the C.O. over and tried to convince him to unlock the gate. I told the C.O. the bird would die in there if nobody lets it out.
“As I was pleading with the cop, some douchebag walks up and says, ‘If it got in, it could get out.’ The C.O. repeats, almost like a mantra: ‘If it can get in, then it can get out.’
“I’m like, no, it can’t… that’s the essence of a trap: easy to get in, hard to get out. I told the C.O., “If you don’t open that gate now, you’re gonna have to open it to pull out the dead bird. Either way, the gate’s gotta get opened.’
“The cop ignored me and repeated, ‘If it could get in, it could get out.’”
We waited for Dad to finish the story. My eyes opened slowly.
“Did it get out?” Kashawn asked.
Dad didn’t say anything else; he just turned, phone in hand, and through the screen watched Saurus playing in the aisle.
