You know that moment when you want to say something but don't know the exact words to vocalize it? That's how I felt on the ride back home with my dad. It was probably the most awkward car ride of my life, to be honest with you. It's like I had enough thoughts to write the sequel to War and Peace, but I just didn't know how to put those thoughts into English. Sometimes, I know exactly how to express my words but physically struggle to say them; it's like my throat just locks.
My father turned on the radio, and it started playing Woke Up This Morning by Nickelback; hearing it made me think about how much I screwed everything up with my time travel. I experienced the most uncomfortable chills as I listened to it and felt sick to my stomach. I opened the glove compartment to see if we had anything for motion sickness and was pleasantly surprised to find some Dramamine. To make matters even better, it was the chewable type.
We meet again, old friend!
I took out a pill and chewed on it to ease my nausea. The taste of synthetic oranges brought me back to being a child. Remembering my childhood hurt indescribably.
"You're carsick?" my dad asked in utter surprise. I got over motion sickness at eleven, so this shocked him.
"My meds make me feel pretty queasy," I lied.
"I see..."
"So uh... how have you been doing, dad?" I awkwardly asked. It felt surreal seeing him in the flesh again. It was as if I had spent my entire life at St. Clara.
"I'm good; I've been working like mad on that robot I told you about. One day, everyone will own them. Knowing the positive impact I'm making on the world motivates me. So much in life can change based on perspective," he said with a look of excitement in his eyes. I hadn't seen him so passionate about something in years, and it hurt me deep down, knowing that his boss would eventually screw him over. Knowledge is the worst; dumb people have it easy.
"You're right, dad. Say, how did you even get interested in this robot business?" I asked curiously.
"Son, robots are slowly replacing human effort; someday, the future will be automated with robots doing what we could have only dreamed of. If we want to have a prosperous future, then we have to let technology evolve," he said passionately.
"So uh... when was that?" I asked, confused.
"I've loved robots ever since reading Isaac Asimov, didn't I ever tell you this?" he asked, looking at me like I asked him the dumbest question in the world. The constant alternation between the versions of my dad drove me insane.
"You did now. So, have you thought of a name for your robot yet? You seem to only refer to him as that robot."
"Good point; I'm thinking of naming it Recycle-O-Nator. See, the thing with names is that if you pick a stupid one, you'll have to live with it for the rest of your life. What do you think of that name? I mean, honestly?" he asked, looking me right in the eyes as if judging to see if I was being honest.
"I like it, but dad, wh-"
"We're here!" he yelled out, likely trying to ignore my attempts to warn him of Maynard.
One day you'll regret all of this...
YOU ARE READING
The October Amaryllis
科幻Clive Andrews is a typical 16-year-old boy who never had anything out of the ordinary happen until May 16th, 2020, when he was struck by several feet of ball lightning and nearly killed. After being discharged from the hospital, he realizes that he...
