Gramps

Gramps has old, antiquated ideas. But is that a bad thing?

"This is a direct result of the school systems taking competitive play out of recess," Gramps grumbled from the seat next to me.

"How do you mean?" my ten year old son, Mark, asked from the back seat.

"Well, back in my day, we used to play, keep score, compete. We didn't know it, but it was teaching us about life. When we got older, we'd compete for a better job, or a spouse, or just a better life."

"Compete?" asked John, eight years of age. "I don't understand. Like a race? How do you race for a job?"

"Or a wife? You mean you didn't sign up for the Compatibility Plan?"

Gramps shook his head sorrowfully. "There was no government run Compatibility Plan back in my day. Not even in your grandfather's day. In my time, you found someone you liked, you would get to know them, court them, and, if the chemistry was right, you'd marry. None of this sign up on a government list and have a compatible person matched to you. And yeah, sometimes it was like a race, especially in the job market. You'd apply, as would other applicants, and you'd all compete for that job. It would be up to you to try to make yourself look like the best choice."

"Crazy," Mark commented.

I glanced at Mark from my rear view mirror. I could tell he didn't quite comprehend what Gramps was telling him. I understood, but just vaguely. That was not my time, not my way.

My husband and I had been matched up through the Compatibility Plan. There was no getting to know each other, no courting. We simply signed up, got tested and then matched. We liked each other well enough. Enough to enroll in the Procreation Program. In one office visit, our child plan had been organized and implemented.

As for work, both my husband and I worked for the government, just as ninety percent of the country did. We registered when we became of age. We were chosen, based upon our test scores, and placed where the government saw fit.

I can't even imagine having to compete for anything.

It all just seemed so uncivilized.

My grandfather, well, make that my great, great grandfather, is old. Very, very old. He is the oldest person I know. He is, as of two days ago, the oldest person in the world. His time, well, was so, different.

I don't know why he hangs on. He's outlived his friends, two wives, all of his children, most of his grandchildren and one of his great grandchildren.

My dad says it's because he's too ornery to die.

He's in pretty good health, considering his age. I don't see how, as he grew up in an era where people still smoked and drank and put preservatives in their food. He said he was never a health nut, just ate what he wanted in moderation, took walks with his wife and dog, gardened a bit. He got cancer once, but it had been after a cure had been discovered.

What's left of his progeny take care of him. He lives with my father and mother, but my siblings and cousins and I take him out; to the store, to the park or even on mini holidays.

He gets bored because his mind is sharp even if his body has failed him. 

He's still pretty mobile. A little slow, but he can get around with the use of his cane. He has a walker, but he only uses that on his bad days.

Today, I am taking him to the memorial service of Joan Smith. She had the record of being the longest lived person at a whopping 132. She finally gave up and died after her dog, Barkley passed. She had no living relatives, no friends left. She told her nurse that she was tired of living, so she went to bed one night and never woke up.

Gramps didn't know Joan, in fact had never met her, but, as he put it, he felt that he should pay his respects, seeings how he was now her replacement as oldest person on earth.

It fell to me to take him, as I am the only one with a vehicle. Well the kind that you drive by yourself anyway. Two of my cousins have a car, and my parents have a car as well, but they are all Street Automated, as in, they can only be driven on the city streets that have an automation strip. You program in your destination and the car simply takes you wherever you wish to go. You don't even have to touch the steering wheel. Well, most fully automated cars don't even have a steering wheel anymore. It's like having an invisible driver my dad says.

Of course, no one really needs vehicles any more, not really, not if you live in the cities. There are plenty of transportation options. However, when my husband and I signed up for the Procreation Program, and our children were born, it was a perk that we chose to take advantage of. Nothing fancy, but it meets our needs. It even has a manual operation option. And we needed that particular option today.

Joan Smith had lived in a farm community. The town itself has the Street Automation feature, but the church and cemetery where her service is to be held is in an old section of town, where no Street Automation is available.

Which is why we need my car. And since I am one of the registered drivers, I have to drive. I am required to actually place my hand on the wheel, manually put the car into gear, press my foot on the accelerator and drive.

It's absolutely terrifying.

But I've managed so far. And the kids, well, the kids have considered this trip the biggest adventure of their lives.

"Used to be you could turn on the television and watch any number of sports for entertainment. Football was the biggest of all, well in our country anyway." he told the boys.

"Football? But all they do is take turns running the ball from one end of the field to the other," Mark frowned, "how could that be interesting?"

"What country are you talking about, Gramps? It's all one big country," John added.

"We used to be called the United States of America," I told them.

"Used to be the greatest country on earth. But we forgot how to fight, how to stand up for ourselves. When China decided they were ready to take over, all the leaders of our nation had to do was sign a piece of paper, and the China/America Consolidation was born," Gramps shook his head with disgust.

"It was the most pragmatic thing to do," I reminded him. "We owed the Chinese so much money, it was just easier for them to take control of the country, erase our debt, and move on."

Gramps glared at me, causing me to catch my breath. I sometimes forget that Gramps' idea of assault and battery is not the same as my own.

"Pragmatism. We could have at least put up an argument. Pragmatism is no replacement for a good, hard core debate," growled Gramps.

"Violence is unreasonable," Mark quipped.

"Debating is not violence. Yes, I suppose it has the possibility of perhaps leading to violence, but a good debate expands one's mind as well as one's understanding. As it is now, you kids won't know how to expand your mind unless the government spells it out for you."

"Gramps, please. I don't want to hear a political tirade. This is stressful enough as it is," I pleaded.

I was used to it. Every time we'd get together the conversation would inevitably turn to how it used to be, how we used to have minds of our own, how people of today, how does he put it? Take the easy way out.

I don't know what he even means.

Scientifically, we as a people, simply lost the need to compete. Take competitiveness out of school play, then out of sports, then out of life, you just don't require that particular gene anymore. My generation literally has not got a competitive gene in our collective body.

Before today, I never thought about how problematic that could be.

"Jenny, honey," Gramps said in his most supportive yet still gravelly voice, "someone's gonna have to make the first move."

"Right," I said as I licked my lips for the umpteenth time. I wiped the sweat from my palms onto my slacks. "Right."

I looked out of the front windscreen of my car. Three other drivers stared back at me, their expressions mirroring my own. One of us had to be the first to move, but whom?

"Jenny," Gramps said softly, "it's okay. Go ahead. Someone's gotta do it, may as well be you. We are going to be late if you don't."

Again I licked my lips, grasped the steering wheel and gently pressed my foot down upon the accelerator.

We moved forward.

As I drove through the four way stop, I noticed the faces of the other drivers; horror and awe, maybe even admiration. It felt, well, good. Maybe a competitive spirit wasn't such a bad thing to have after all.

I smiled as I drove on. "Who ever heard of making a four way stop anyway?" 

Reviews

[CelesteB]

This story was created with a look into the future of this country and the world as many of us have envisioned. Very interesting point of view. I enjoyed it and am happy to have the opportunity to read more of Wendy's writings. Keep them coming Wendy Cooper!

[Jon Roggie]

I like it! Nice to see your words here!