Getting Back to Yellowstone | Travel Brilliantly

Getting Back to Yellowstone

"Your vitamins, sir."

The whir of wheels rolled away, in the direction of the kitchen.

Leonard reached for the pills to the left, the water glass to the right. He couldn't see them but knew they were there, as they had been every day since April Ivy came into his life.

He put the vitamins in his mouth and tipped back the glass of water, thinking how much more watery water tasted since the light in his eyes had completely gone out. Water was just coolness, really, a tasteless temperature rolling over his tongue the way a stream cools the rocks it rushes over in the wild.

Years ago he and his wife, Tilda, traveled the world. India, Japan, all over the U.S. But now, even with Ivy to help him, he hardly left the house. A stroll around the block or the park, maybe, but nothing near as adventurous as a climb up Everest—or a hike through Yellowstone. And now the wanderlust that spread through his body like a slow-growing cancer threatened to suffocate him.

"Ivy, what time is my appointment today?"

The whir of wheels approached. "You have a consultation with Dr. Gloria Putnam at 1 p.m. in preparation for eye surgery next week," she said. "Would you like to hear details?"

"No, thanks. I remember." He chuckled. "My brain still works pretty good. It's the rest of me that's falling apart."

"For a ninety-eight-year-old man you are in excellent health, sir.

"That's what the doctors keep telling me. And I'm glad about that, too. Know why?"

"Please tell me, sir."

"Because I need to get back to Yellowstone. Tilda and I planned a trip just before she got sick. When we realized she wouldn't be going anywhere, I promised her I'd go for the both of us—and I intended to, but then, well, my eyes. And now Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Canyon: they're all calling my name."

"I don't hear anyone calling your name, sir, but I will help you get wherever it is you want to go."

When Dr. Putnam first sent Ivy to live with Leonard, he wasn't sure she was a good idea. Felt like a stranger had moved into his home. And a woman stranger at that. Tilda wouldn't have liked it, he was pretty sure. Alas, Tilda was gone fifteen years now—gone the same way all of his friends had gone, slowly but surely, one by one until he felt like the last man alive. If he'd known he'd end up a soul survivor, he wouldn't have taken such good goddamn care of himself.

He'd say it out loud, but Ivy wouldn't like it—she wasn't one for negativity, bless her heart. In reply, she'd say something along the lines of "Many people care about you, sir," or "Think of all the knowledge you have, sir," or "You still have to get to Yellowstone for Tilda, sir." Or some other, even more human comment that made him forget she was A.I.

"The van will arrive in eighteen minutes and thirty-five seconds, sir."

Leonard reached up to pat the PVC that formed her shoulder. "I'm lucky to have you, my dear. I hope you know how much I appreciate what you do for me."

"I do, sir."

"Good. Good. Have I ever told you about my first trip to Old Faithful? It was our honeymoon."

"Many times, but feel free to tell me again, sir. Ha, ha."

Aside from her stiff way of laughing, she had conversation skills down pat.

"Yeah, that's funny," he said. "Living room."

She wheeled up close to him, and he gripped her mechanical arms, giving him the leverage necessary to stand. She led him to the armchair, and he sat again.

"Shall I read the headlines?" she asked. "Or play some music? Mozart. Handel. Bach."

"Music would be nice." When the ears heard music, the brain saw pictures. Pictures of the places and things he'd once seen: Michelangelo in Florence, elephants in Kenya, giant sequoias in Yellowstone—and the light, oh, the light. If he'd known he would lose his sight, he would have spent more time watching it turn Old Faithful's spray into rainbows, glint like sapphires off glacial lakes, brighten the face of his beautiful bride. For five years, he had only memories of flickering candlelight, sunsets and sunrises, dust particles floating up the shafts of sunbeams like souls dancing their way up heavenly ladders.

But that might change soon. Hopefully. The technology was there. His decades-old research helped create it, and he'd volunteered to be the first to receive the Bi0nikIze.2. With his eyesight restored, he could do a lot more than see. Especially with the help of April Ivy.

The hum of a vehicle vibrated the floor of the living room, and Ivy placed his slip-on shoes on his lap. "Are you certain you would not like me to join you, sir?"

"Not necessary," he said. "Gloria will there when I arrive."

He put the shoes on, then reached for her mechanical arm and thanked her as he stood.

The front door sensed their approach and opened with the kind of whoosh he used to hear at the supermarket. He stepped down the ramp, holding Ivy's arm for balance. The locks on the autonomous van thunked, and he heard the pop of the doors. He stepped up—Ivy behind him for support—and hefted into the seat.

The seatbelt descended upon him. "Promise we'll go to Yellowstone when I get my new eyes—even if the doctors say it's not okay."

The whir of Ivy's wheels backed away.

"Ivy?"

The van jolted and the hydraulic lift whined behind him.

"Ivy, what are you doing?"

"I am getting in the van, sir. I promise I will take you back to Old Faithful, but if we're going to travel together against doctor's orders, I'll need to know everything."

Leonard chuckled. He told the van to close up and drive.