Saturday, 4/27/2216

“Hey,” Ami said as I ate dinner on the couch.

“Hey,” I said back, not looking at her. This was an ‘I’m about to tell you something’ sort of ‘hey’ and we were in the middle of a movie. Not that it was a particularly good movie, it was some clear war propaganda, but I didn’t want to do anything right now. It was Saturday after all.

“You told me to tell you to call your mom in a week.” She said.

Damn… she was right. I had been putting it off for too long. I could afford to move her into a new facility now, and would have priority government access. It would be expensive but my new salary would more than cover it.

“Ok… Ami, remind me to find a new care facility after we evacuate the city.”

“Definitely… but you should still call her.”

“I will, I will Ami. Your shining soul is blinding me.”

“That’s my job!”

“Thank you. Actually, when do we have to evacuate?”

“In about 22 days. Well, we should get out of here before then but that’s when EarthGov estimates their missiles will hit.”

Yikes. People had been trickling out of the city since the war began and the streets that were usually empty were now completely bare. Shops were closing, trucks were shipping out valuables, and people were following after them.

“I wonder how much of the city will be left?” I wondered.

“Probably a reasonable amount if the estimates are correct. The real question is how long it will take to rebuild, and that could take years.”

“I guess we’ll be in Pittsburgh for a while then.” That’s where we were following Seitaro to. It would be hard to leave the city emotionally, but physically it didn’t really matter. I didn’t have much, just Ami, and she was being continuously backed up just in case we had to flee early. Mom would have to move, but the care facility assured me that they would handle that. I wonder where K would go? Would she tell me if I asked her?

“No! Not at all, we’ll probably be there for a few weeks at most. It’s a target for the third volley.”

“Damn.” The missiles kept launching and I couldn’t keep track of it all. “That’s stupid. Even if a peace was negotiated it couldn’t stop.”

“Well, not exactly. They can send a signal to shut down the explosives at light speed and they do have a small amount of onboard fuel in case they have to make trajectory adjustments.”

“Oh… ok.” Shows how much I know. “You’re so smart Ami.”

She smiled at me, hands clasped in front of her. “I’m only smarter than you, but thanks. Now call your mom.”

“Ok, ok.”

. . .

“Hey mom.” I said when the call connected. The image of her that I saw was nearly unchanged from my childhood, albeit a little more grey. She still looked like the stern academic that she always had been, but those who knew her knew that underneath that rigid exterior she had a heart of gold that was always ready to melt with empathy. I couldn’t even imagine her assaulting a therapist, but that’s how she ended up here.

“Hey Kriss!” She said, voice clear and strong despite exhibiting some withering from age. “So good to hear from you. How are you doing?”

“I’m good mom, I’m good.” And I was good. Mom always had that effect. I should really call more often. “I just got a new job.”

“Hey, that’s great, congratulations. What are you doing?”

“It’s basically the same thing I was doing before, but it’s for the government now. I’ll be making a lot more money. Seitaro put me on.”

“Thats great Kriss. How is Seitaro?”

“Uhhh, he’s fine I guess.”

“Oh no, that boys not in trouble again is he?” She asked, sensing my hesitation.

“No, no, he’s fine.”

“Ok, I do worry. It’s so great you two are still friends.”

“Uh huh.”

“How’s ChingWei taking it? Make sure to thank him for all he’s done, he had to pull some strings to get you that job in the first place.”

My throat clenched up.

“He’s,” my voice cracked, “he’s good. He was fine with it.” I managed somehow.

“Send him a bottle of wine or something. He’s a good guy.” I could’ve cried right there. If she were physically in front of me I might have, but I suppressed the urge.

Select main menu, select neural network, select pre-loadouts, scroll to ‘solid’, select yes.

“I know mom, I know. I will.”

“What’s wrong?” I thought I did a good job, but I guess moms can always tell.

“Can you switch NAC recording off?” I asked, knowing on some level it was futile.

“Patients can never be off.”

“Ok, yeah… I figured.” I took a deep breath. “What was dad trying to do?”

Long silence.

“He…” she started, slowly, cautiously, “he just wanted things to be more equitable, more fair.”

Long silence.

“How did dad die?”

Canton Institute Visitor Notice: The allotted time for this call has expired. Please call back during visiting hours. Have a wonderful day.

The image cut out before she said a word but her eyes said all I needed to hear.