Grandpa

Grandpa sat in his customary seat at the kitchen table. He scowled at the half-dozen robots dancing furiously about, whirling among each other in mathematical unison, preparing breakfast with ruthless efficiency. His grandson Bobby sat to his left. Little Suzi sat on his right. It was the same as every morning.

“I tell you kids what. You don’t know how easy you got it,” grandpa said.

“What do you mean, grandpa?” Bobby asked. He didn’t sound sincere.

“I saw you roll your eyes. I guess you think it’s best to humor the old man. And you know what I’m talkin’ about. When I was a young'un we only had one robot. That piece of junk broke down all the time.”

“What does ‘broke down’ mean, grandpa?” Suzi asked.

“Don’t they teach you kids nothin’ in that fancy orbitin’ school. I don’t know why your dad wastes his money on that place. It means it quit workin’.”

“That’s never happened here.”

“Not that you’d notice with all these robots. What’s that? Your precious powdered eggs two seconds late. Please.” Grandpa rubbed his bald head. “Like I said, you got it too easy. Why one time your great grandpa made me walk to the robot store to get parts. Can you believe that! Walk! He said a walk would do me good. One of my friends passed me on his hover board and laughed at me. I’ll never forget that day. The old man thought he could fix the robot himself.” Grandpa jabbed a thumb into his skinny chest. “Had to make my own sandwich that day.”

“You really had to make your own sandwich, grandpa?” Suzi asked. Her eyes were wide with wonder.

“Yep, peanut butter and banana.”

“What’s a banana?” Suzi sounded out the word banana.

“A kind of long yellow fruit.” Grandpa got a misty look in his eyes. “I miss them.” He grimaced and shook his head. “And the peanut butter these days. Yuck! I can’t believe they have the nerve to call that stuff peanut butter. Just another disgustin’ variety of yeast.” He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “This whole stinkin’ city reeks of it.”

“I don’t smell anything,” Bobby said.

“Of course you don’t. Your smeller's broken.” Grandpa hung his head. “If only I was fifty years younger. . . .”

“What, grandpa?”

“I’d be forty-five. Stupid medical science keepin’ me alive and for what. Can’t have a banana. Have to eat nasty peanut butter. Powdered eggs. Yeah they had powdered eggs in my day but you didn’t have to eat them. You could get a real one if you wanted. Everything’s fake now. Your mama gave me what she called fried catfish the other night. Fried catfish my wrinkled up old”—

“Grandpa!” Suzi covered her ears.

Grandpa cleared his throat. “I don’t know what that stuff was but I’m not so old I can’t remember what fried catfish tastes like. She said it was grown in a lab. They been doing that a long time and it doesn't seem to get any better. I could still taste it the next day.” Grandpa sighed. “I wish I could join your grandma. She’s in a better place.”

“She’s in Florida, grandpa. She divorced you a long time ago. You said she ran off with a younger man.”

“Yeah, she always wanted to be a cougar.”

“What’s that?” Suzi asked.

“A big, wild cat that lives in the woods. They’re probably extinct now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It never made any sense to me either.” Tears formed in grandpa’s eyes.

Bobby took a drink of milk or whatever it was. “You sure are grouchy today. Did you forget your meds?”

“No! If I was off my medication I wouldn’t be able to remember so clearly.”

Bobby turned on the view screen in the table top and slid it over to grandpa. “Here. Watch the weather. That’ll make you feel better.”

A robot placed a bowl of oatmeal (it was gray and lumpy anyway) in front of grandpa and disappeared with a blur. “What weather? The satellites control the weather. We haven’t had a good storm in years. When I was a kid hurricanes would wipe out whole states. Tornados would rip a path a mile wide.”

Suzi shivered. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It wasn’t good but it was excitin’.” Grandpa looked at the view screen. The weather wasn’t on. He stared at the news and stirred his oatmeal listlessly. Suddenly he slammed his fist on the table catching the edge of the bowl. The bowl flew into the air. A robot caught it at chest level and moved it around deftly catching the stream of oatmeal before placing it back on the table in front of grandpa. Suzi clapped.

“Damn P.E.T.C.M is at it again! They always try to mess things up.”

“Who’s that?”

“You know who they are. They’re the People for the Ethical Treatment of Cellular Material. If they had their way we wouldn’t even be able to eat lab-grown meat or yeast. Haven’t you heard ‘em chantin’ on the news ‘No fungus for any of us.”

“What would we eat?”

“We could start with them jerks from P.E.T.C.M.”

Suzi stuck out her tongue. “Yuck! I don’t want to eat people.”

Mom came into the kitchen then. She had a skintight white bodysuit on. Her red, curly hair was piled high atop her head. She lit up what looked like a cigarette but grandpa knew it wasn’t really. Tobacco had been made illegal years ago. What he wouldn't do for a good cigar.

“Hey, dad,” she said. “Are you telling the kids crazy stories again?”

“No,” Billy said. “He’s just being grouchy again.”

"Just like always," Mom said. "The bus will be here soon so you two go to the foyer."

Billy and Suzi left. Mom looked at Grandpa and shook her head slightly. "I wish you were happier."

"I'm an old man. I can be grouchy if I want." Grandpa crossed his arms and frowned. "Besides this world is so sterile, so boring. I just wish something would happen.

"I don't know what to tell you. I'm going to wait with the children." She left.

Grandpa sat in the kitchen alone. Well, not alone due to all the robots standing against the walls, silently waiting instructions. Their brushed chrome faces stared blankly at nothing. It was creepy. Grandpa gave up. He turned off the viewscreen in the table top, left the now cold oatmeal and headed for his room. The robots went to work when he left.