Perception Changes (Chapter 2)

My chip buzzes in my arm to wake me and alert me to the fact that we have reached my destination.

I stand a moment too soon and am tossed forward slightly as the bus comes to a final stop. I catch myself in time and depart from the vehicle.

My eyes follow the side of the building front of me up to the twenty-first story. A ritual I started the very first day we moved in. Then I count over to the fifth window. My window.

Having completed the ritual I move toward the door. I swipe my chip for entry then embark on a journey up the elevator to the twenty-first floor. The elevator does not stop to pick up new passengers as it sometimes does. In only a few seconds I reach my destination.

I step out and walk down to the appropriate door. With a swipe of my chip I gain entrance to the apartment. A wet tongue greets me immediately.

“Hey, Nine-Sixty. Were you a good boy while I was out?” I rub the dog’s ears and push my way into the hall, shutting the door behind me. There was a time in the past when people would have had to take their dogs out. But now, with a lack of lawns for the dogs to do their duty in, a dog version of a litterbox has been created.

It’s not exactly a litterbox, it’s more complicated than that, but it’s the closest thing I have to compare it to. I means no mess to deal with, no cold walks in the snow, and no muddy paws.

There, of course, are animal rights activists or whatever who remind you that dogs still need fresh air as much as the next individual. And I do take Nine-Sixty out occasionally, but it can wait. For now I need a little introvert time.

I plop down on the couch to recharge. Menial tasks and errands really drain me of energy, especially when I have to deal with other people.

Nine-Sixty decides he can fit on the couch next to me, even though he really can’t, and hops right up, landing halfway on top of me.

My niece named him when she was three. I don’t know where she got the inspiration for the name, but it stuck. Nine-Sixty moved in with us when my sister and her family moved to a place that doesn’t allow dogs.

There’s a large age gap between me and my sister. I’m still working to complete high school while she’s managed to graduate college, get a job, marry the man of her dreams, and have two beautiful daughters. I’m not jealous though. I’m taking advantage of being a kid while it lasts. Responsibility looms right around the corner.

I pick up a scroll from the end table above my head. Today’s scrolls are made to look and feel like the papyrus scrolls from forever ago in ancient history, but are made of completely man-made materials. No papyrus, no paper. Another minor difference is that these scrolls are electronic.

When we started running out of trees a big push was made to replace paper entirely. But not everyone wanted to switch fully to electronics. So a compromise was reached. At first some people pushed for something that looked like the books of old, with hundreds of pages. But as you can imagine, that was far too expensive.

The scrolls, on the other hand, are made quite cheaply. They contain just enough memory space for one “book”, as we still call them. Some traditions never change.

To read the scroll you can either twist it, like people would have thousands of years ago. Or you can simply swipe your finger. Either way, the paper never actual moves, only the words scroll across the page. I personally prefer swiping my finger. I’m lazy.

Most people also have tablets which you can download books onto, but the scrolls are readily available at the libraries and aren’t as rough on the eyes as a lit-up screen.

I immerse myself in my book. It’s a story about a girl who finds a special charm. A charm that not only bring her luck, but take it from those around her.

With my eyes skimming rapidly over the words I use one hand to scroll and the other to nuzzle Nine-Sixty.

The story is just getting good when the front door opens. I reluctantly look up from my story to the door.

“What are you doing home so early?” I ask the figure in the front walkway.

I’m answered with a sigh. My father turns around and I can see it in his eyes. Even though his day’s not even halfway over, it’s already been too long. “It’s nothing to worry about, Kat.” He says. “I just need some time to myself for a little while.”

“Well, can I make you a sandwich or anything?”

“Some coffee would be great.” He says as he shuffles to his bedroom door.

I hop up to start the drink maker. I insert the coffee pellet and place a mug underneath. Less than a minute later I have a cup of coffee. Strong, no cream, a little sugar, just the way he likes it.

As an afterthought I get a second mug for myself and insert one of my own custom coffee pellets.

I let it brew as I bring the mug to my father. He’s left the door ajar. I knock anyway.

“Come on in, Kat.” His tie falls to the floors as he speaks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” I press him.

He sighs again. “I don’t want to worry you.”

“I’m almost an adult. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” Sometimes I think he forgets that I’m not a kid anymore. With Mom gone and Elyse out of the house, I don’t think he wants to admit that I’m not home for too much longer.

“Right. Sorry.” He takes the mug of coffee from my hands. A brief pause floods the room with silence before he continues. “I lost my job.”

“Oh no.” I say in a quiet, concerned voice. “What happened?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve granted me a week of pay to sustain us until I find a new job.” That’s not a lot of time, but it’s something.

I sit down on the bed next to him. “Don’t worry. We’ll find you a job.” I cringe inwardly at my own terrible grammar but continue. “I heard that O’Donnell’s is offering temporary jobs. The hours are really flexible and it only lasts as long as you need it to. It would be perfect while you’re in-between jobs.”

Dad offers me a weak smile. “Thanks, Kat.”

We sit in silence for a few moments, which feel like an eternity, before I stand up to leave. I can tell he’s leaving something out. A few times he acted like he was going to say something, then stopped himself. I’ll give him time. He’ll tell me eventually.

I step into the kitchen. I totally forgot I had made myself a mug of coffee. I pick it up. Still warm. Guess the coffee maker really does know how to do its job.

Perhaps I should get a job myself. Things were already a little tight as far as money goes. Maybe I should chip in if Dad can’t get the pay we need.

I settle back onto the couch, but I don’t pick up my scroll. Instead, I grab the tablet from the end table. It’s time to find some jobs.

Before I can even turn the thing on my father walks back into the room. I look up at him as he opens his mouth to speak. The words that come out do not seem his own. “I’m getting married.”