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chaosmagetwin · 2 months ago

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I took a deep breath, knocked on the wooden door, and felt my tail flick with nervous energy. "Hello? I'm from the Bureau of Device Regulation? Is this... Is this the home of Sofia Way?"

"Oh! Just a minute!" An elderly voice called back, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. It'd been a lot of travel to get out here, away from the offices and bustle of the city. A couple trains, a bus ride, and a thirty minute hike past the wind farms that I'd underestimated. Worse, it was hot, making sweat drip down my chest and soak the blouse I'd chosen to look professional.

The door opened, and for a moment, I took in the sight; an elderly woman with silvery hair kept in a tight bun, an old frumpy dress, and big round glasses that had been in fashion a few decades ago. She was taller than me, despite her slight stoop. From her head sprouted a couple of horns, black, the paint on them peeling slightly, revealing cold steel in patches. She gave me a kind smile, and opened the door the rest of the way, revealing her cane. "Hello, dear. You must be the update tech." She had a husky, raspy voice.

I gave her a shaky smile back, and tried to remember my training for a minute. "Yes ma'am. Uhm. Obsolete Cybernetics Technician, Eliza-Kat Jones, ma'am." Her eyes crinkled, and I felt myself relax a little. Sometimes people took offense to the name, with the tail. Too 'on brand' or something. Usually they were more mad that it was obvious I chose my own name. "It's time for your one year checkup. Digitally speaking, I mean. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Sofia Way. Charmed, Eliza-Kat. It's lovely to see you. Please, come in. I have some water on. Would you like some tea? It's a local variety." She let me step into her home, and I glanced around, taking it in quickly as she lead me to the living room; the photos on the walls, the old furniture, the soft pastel three color flag displayed proudly on the wall, the old electronic piano, and stack of consoles attached to the television. All pre-revolution. Some newer ones, too, produced more ethically.

"Yes, please," I say absentmindedly as I take it all in. Strange to see photos. Ancient technology at this point. Even stranger, there was no A.R. paint, nothing my eyes could pick up at all in the digital way. I guess older folks never really made that transfer. Not even digital sticky notes, or timers, or... or anything. Plenty of people kept it to a minimum, of course; no one likes clutter. But none felt... how did one stay organized? There were literal bookcases, filled with paper books. I recognized some of the titles; classics, here and there, but mostly romance, if the covers were anything to judge by. And art books, too.

I let myself sit on the couch and felt myself sink in the too soft cushions and fall. I struggled for a moment and found a slightly stiffer cushion, and hurriedly fixed my hair. "So! Uhm! You have a lovely home, Miss Way." It was eclectic. Funnily enough, it felt similar to mine in some way. An organized chaos. Old technology. A wide range of interests, some with more dust on them than others.

"That's a lovely thing to say. Now, what can this old demon do for you?" She spoke as she came into the room with a tray, setting it down on the messy coffee table before sitting opposite from me on an armchair. Neither of the cups had liquid yet; it must be steeping still.

"Oh, well, uhm, we got your email a month ago. And, we just... we wanted to make sure you weren't making any rash decisions, you know?" I winced at my phrasing and grabbed my tail out of anxiety, trying to pass it off like I'd sat on it wrong. "What I mean to say is, are you sure you want to stop getting updates?"

She laughed softly, covering her mouth demurely as she did. "Oh, Miss Jones. I'm afraid the updates aren't necessary any more. I... know that I am the last person in the country with this piece." She tapped her horns carefully.

"Yes, ma'am. They're a sensory type, yes?"

"They are! I got them while I was quite young, to supplement my failing hearing. Too many loud parties and raves. It was offered to me as an option, instead of a simple ear replacement." She smiled wanly. "You understand the mechanics of it?"

"Yes... though it's not my specialty. Only about three hundred were ever made, and the company went out of business a few years later. It's... err, sensors on the inside of the horn that vibrate with sound, right? Mimicking a natural eardrum and the vestibular system?" She nodded. "It wasn't a very... popular cybernetic implant."

"Not exactly, no. I was thirty when I got it. Just before the revolution, though, that company went out of business first. I didn't think it would really need updates when I got it. Physical repair, sure... everything wears down, after all." She pulled wryly at her skin with a bemused expression. "But updates caught me off guard. One day, I heard it beep, and suddenly I was simply deaf. Not long after that, the BDR was formed, so I suppose I should count myself lucky. I wrote in a letter, and they got a technician out to me in less than a month, and replaced the parts that had been designed to fail."

"I understand. May I ask, then... Why are you discontinuing your updates? You've indicated that you're not getting new implants to replace it..." I felt my voice tremble. I knew the answer. "May I ask why that is?"

"... oh, you know how it is. We old people are stubborn...." She sighed, and looked out the window, and I saw a deep well of sadness. "My... wife died, some time ago now. And I'm just... out of energy. You're young, still... What are you, twenty four? Twenty eight?"

"Twenty three, ma'am..."

"And already working for the government! Impressive. You must've done well in tech school. You should be proud!" I could hear the pride in her voice, and flushed a little. "As you get older, things slow down... even, sometimes your mind. I'm sure you've heard it before, but, entertain me..." I nodded, though I felt my teeth grit. "For you, this old technology is a curiosity. And, now your job. You trained to repair and reprogram it. How many updates have you put into this piece? Three, right?" I blinked, surprised, then nodded. She gave me a wry smile. "I can tell because the quality has gone up considerably under your care. I can tell you care about your work. Not just eliminating bugs, but improving the processing with the hardware already present? Impressive."

"T-thank you! I... I didn't think it would be that noticeable!" I couldn't help but beam in pride. It was nice to be recognized. Sometimes, this work was a little thankless, and it was rare to actually see the faces behind the implants.

"It was! I heard things I hadn't in years. Including, funnily enough, the whine in electronics!" I flinched. "Hah! Don't worry, dear, I don't mind. The reason I am not switching is because it's pointless now, not your work."

"... but.... if we stop updating, you'll lose your hearing..." I couldn't keep my voice from catching. I knew what she would say next.

"I know. It's okay. I know that you saw the other part of my letter." She paused as I looked away, my hands squeezing on my bionic tail, making pain flare up my back. "I'm sorry, my dear. I know you trained a lot to learn the coding language for these old horns."

"It's not that! You! You're the last person with these implants! And you're dying, and you won't replace them, and you won't let us update them! You're just.... you're just dying."

She nodded, smiling calmly at me. How could she be so calm? "Yes, I am. I've made my peace with that. My doctor broke the news to me a few months ago. It turns out, the horns are... killing me. I didn't understand the reasoning behind it. Something about old implants breaking down..." She touched the skin where the horn connected, and I felt my heart break, and with it tears began to stream down my face. It wasn't fair. "They, my doctor, said it was too late, really. I should've made the swap twenty years ago. But, I never could have, you know? They're.... part of me. It's like someone offered to cut off my hand! Not because it was doing anything anyone knew about, but because it was old! Twenty years ago, I was sixty. Already old, or so I thought...." She chuckled again.

"You still have time! You have... you have friends, right? Won't you want to hear them?"

"Oh, I'm afraid that I'm quite alone now. Life hasn't always been so kind to me... many of my friends died in the revolution. Fighting for the world we live in now. After it, the ones who lived... Well, not everyone is kind to people like me.... like us." She looked pointedly behind me, and I followed her vision to the flag. "Especially not after the war. It's always two steps forwards, one step back. Many of them were caught in the one step back parts of history. Then by things like cancer, or homelessness... then by things like heart attacks... and then, two years ago, by old age. Aneurysm, technically. I don't mind being alone, you know. It wears on me, but I've enjoyed the quiet most of my life, and I remember all the love I've felt through it. It hasn't gone away. And it makes me so glad to see young people these days, so out and free. It's what we all worked for. All of which is to say.... is that I'm ready. My affairs are all in order." She finished her sentence as I forced myself to stop crying.

"It's not pointless..." I said through the welling up tears. "There'll be people there! And.... and you'd be passing in total silence! You wouldn't even hear anyone say goodbye...."

"Plenty of people do. There's nothing wrong with that," she said gently as she leaned forward, and poured the tea. "Here, drink up. It should be ready now." I took the cup gratefully. "You seem awfully invested in this. Shouldn't you be happy your workload is being lessened?"

I sipped my tea, trying to steady myself. "I just... I didn't think it was fair. My supervisor brought me the letter. When I took your case, you'd been the last person with these implants for.... five years. The person who had been assigned to you, they quit, because you wouldn't update. They didn't understand! They don't know what it means! The importance of... of being supported. Why the BDR exists." The tea was excellent. Of course it was. Why would I be surprised? Fresh, flowery. The subtle hint of green tea flavors. "I read your case file."

"Yes, I suspected as much," she said, bemused.

"I didn't mean to pry. It's just... I needed to know who you were. Why it was important... because it's never just the function with some implants." I flicked my tail forward, showing it. "I've always had a bad sense of balance. I'm so lucky that implants exist at all. But, I had a lot of options that weren't this. Different ways of achieving the same thing. I had the choice, and I chose this. I know what it's like! And.... and I broke the rules, and got invested." I couldn't keep the shame out of my voice as I looked away, embarrassed. "We're alike. And... I know that I don't know you. But I feel like I do! I didn't want you to..." My voice cut off as my throat closed, unable to say the words.

"That's very kind of you, Eliza-Kat. I wrote that letter to release you from your obligations. You are very talented. These past few updates have truly changed my life. You've done so much for me. I wanted to let you put your talents to work in more modern implants. You could be helping a lot more people than just me."

"I do! You're... You're just one case. I work on dozens of obsolete implant models, from the years 2030 to 2060... I... I help hundreds of people. But I took your case intentionally! It doesn't matter that you're the only one! You deserve to have someone working on your case! You deserve to not have to die in silence, and I know! That a lot of people do anyways. But.... you don't have to. I came because I wanted to offer that to you. To offer.... I want to keep working on your implant, until the day you don't have it anymore. And I know... I'm being selfish. My boss told me. My therapist told me. I know it's... disrespectful of your written wishes." I put the tea down, and gripped my skirt with shaking hands. "But I wanted... to offer it." Why was talking to people so hard? Why did my eyes always betray me with tears? Why did my throat close up like this? I just wanted to talk. Like a professional. To make this offer with a cool, calm voice, and change her mind, because.... because I wanted her to change her mind. It wasn't fair.

The pained look on her face made the sob burst free of my chest. She put her own tea down, and offered her hand. "Oh... my dear, I'm so sorry." I took her hand and held it, failing to control myself, and had to cover my face with the crook of my elbow. I don't know how long I cried, or when exactly she moved to sit next to me, holding me, comforting me when it was her impending death coming. It was frustrating. She didn't know me. I barely knew her, and it was only from a case file. To be this emotionally invested....

When I finally came to a hiccoughing stop, she pushed the tea into my hand. "Drink, please. You need the water." Her voice was so soft. Understanding. Like she didn't blame me for being like this.

"I just... I find you so incredible," I whispered. "You were a revolutionary. An activist. You were a part of the force that steered this country away from self annihilation, and into a better world. All before I was ever even born! It's not fair that someone like you be alone at the end. I... I'm sorry. I don't... I don't mean to make this about me."

"... it's okay. To be honest, it's something I've had practice with. I never thought I'd make it to thirty, let alone eighty! Let me make a counter offer. Stop working on my horns. And don't let me be alone when I go. I've a date picked out, and I got the news yesterday that my doctor consented as well. If you are afraid of me dying alone... afraid of you dying alone... then why don't we change that?"

What could I say, but yes?

The day of her death, two months later, was one filled with joy. It'd taken effort, but no one had ever accused me of not working hard. I handed off my cases, took a sabbatical, and wrote to as many old revolutionaries as I could. Her close friends were gone, but she had more people who remembered her than she realized. People who were happy to show up. It was practically a party. We said goodbye in written words, and sign language. We brought flowers. She'd turned her implant off a month earlier, though she wouldn't let them be removed. She wanted to be cremated with them. We talked to each other through messaging services, through written words, through stumbling signs, and she told me about her life. Lessons she wanted me to learn.

Her funeral was a day later. People stood up to speak over her casket. They spoke of her life, parts never talked about in her case file. Of how she touched their lives without ever knowing it. A few were like her. Like me. Not every story was positive, but that was okay. Some were funny. A few talked about how she'd bump her horns into door frames when she was young. Some talked about how she and her wife had been disgustingly into each other. Or how she loved to talk about her latest fascination, like some show that came out. Some talked about her activism; the younger members about how something she had said had changed their perspective.

And then everyone left, and she was returned to the soil. And I went back to work, still alone, but completely changed.

#creative writing #oc #solar punk #sustainability #ecopunk #solarpunk #transgender #tw death #old age #coping with grief #coping with loss

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