Analog Science Fiction and Fact - June 2013

ANALOG
through the hallway into the family room. Lola
was sitting in her usual chair, a black leather
recliner only slightly younger than Luna and
Ben. Drops of moisture decorated her brow,
and her black curls were a little wilted from
the humidity. She didn’t like artificial air or
heat, so Lola’s house relied on insulated curtains
to keep the heat out.
Lola scooted out of her chair and squeezed
Ben in a powerful hug like he was still a little
one, and didn’t tower over her slight five-foot
frame. She grabbed Luna’s hands in both of
hers and kissed her cheek. “Sit down, Granddaughter.”
I SEE LOLA.
He didn’t smile as he gave Luna his strip,
but her pleasure in seeing her grandmother
suddenly increased. Sometimes it was hard to
separate Ben’s happiness from hers, but it was
a positive emotion, so Luna couldn’t bring
herself to care.
“You’re right, that is Lola,” she said. She
looked at Lola. “Ben’s loving you right now.”
Lola signed “I love you” to him, then pointed
to a large stack of magazines on the floor.
“Pick up please, Ben.”
He lifted the heavy stack, placing them on
the table Lola patted. She immediately began
shuffling through the magazines.
“I saved a good one for you, Grandson.” She
squinted, then looked up at Luna, “Please.
Open the light.”
Luna flipped the light switch, and Lola offered
Ben a travel magazine, “I got this one
from that lady who always tries to get me to
go vacation off-world. It has lots of new places
in it.”
Ben quickly grasped the magazine, but she
held it fast, eyes on his face. After a moment,
he flicked his eyes to hers, briefly. “Thank
you.” His voice was barely audible.
Lola smiled and relinquished her hold on
the magazine. She squeezed his shoulder as he
began flipping through the pages. Her wrinkled
hands were still strong, her grip steady
and confident. After watching a few minutes,
Luna walked into the kitchen and looked in
the refrigeration unit. “I’ll make you some sinigang
tonight.”
“Okay, Granddaughter.”
Luna lost herself in the ritual of cutting vegetables
for the soup. Her hands remembered
Lola’s lessons from her childhood—-a tradi-
tional way to cut that gave a nod to both style
and function. Her contentment mingled with
Ben’s as she set water to boil on the stove and
listened with half an ear to the verbal part of
the conversation behind her.
“What do you see?”
“I like the ocean too, Grandson . . .”
“You’re right. The sky is red in that picture.
That’s Petra I . . .”
Even though he didn’t speak, Ben was talking.
The evidence of Ben’s communication
still made her happy. When they were children,
Ben had rejected the small electronic
communication device Ben’s teachers had
tried to get him to use. Even as a child, Luna
knew that being unable to communicate was
like a prison for Ben. She used the Net to research
and found out what they had used back
on old Earth, before palm-tablets had been developed.
The paper symbols served the same
function as a palm-tablet, but without the electronic
sounds that Ben was unable to tolerate.
The sky darkened to olive, then forest
green. By the time they finished eating and
Luna had placed the leftovers in the refrigeration
unit, the sky had deepened to a thick, velvety
green that was almost black. “You be
careful, granddaughter. It’s late already. Go
straight home.” She wasn’t about to argue;
they had lingered over dinner longer than usual,
and night had crept in while they talked.
The idea of walking home in the dark made
her vaguely uncomfortable, but the path was
well lit, and she would have Ben with her. She
was soothed by his company almost as much
as he was by hers.
“We will, Lola. See you tomorrow.” Luna
kissed her cheek, and opened the door while
Lola gave Ben another tight squeeze.
Ben stared at something above and to the
left of Lola’s head, but his too-soft voice made
another appearance. “Bye.”
Lola patted his hand, “Bye, bye Grandson.”
She signed a quick, “I love you,” before turning
to settle into her chair. She used her palms
to scoot herself all the way against the backrest,
her feet dangling a good foot off the floor
before she reached down to recline the chair.
The door closed behind them, shutting
away the soft light from Lola’s lamps. The lock
engaged with a soft electric buzz, followed by
the hiss of escaping air. Ben pressed his hands
over his ears. She pressed them down again.
28 K. S. PATTERSON