Artificial Sweetener

Ethereality

Realizing it is not time itself, the watch rebels, destroying its purpose: movement.

“I made a cake for your birthday.”

“Grandma, you know I can’t have that.”

“But I used an artificial sweetener.”

“Fake stuff. I know.”

“Oh.”

She returns to the kitchen table and sets her baking pan on its blue and white plaid plastic sheet, printed to impersonate cloth. With a fork, she takes a bite from the whole and rolls it over her tongue, tasting the experiment, not her mother’s recipe: a dim memory of childhood. Her version is free of this, free of that, liberated from allergies and natural poisons; synthetic flavors combined with substitutions for wheat, sugar, eggs, and dairy. A make-believe for her grandson; delight lacking genuine essence. She slides the rest into the garbage.

Walking back to his room, she says, “I’m going to the store.”

“For what?”

“Your microwaveables.”

“Okay, one moment… There, I’ve ordered them.”

“With your headset?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“That fast?”

“Isn’t it cool?”

“I guess so. Are you in the store now?”

“No, I’m at the gym.”

“Exercising?”

“More or less.”

“But you’re sitting.”

“Same thing.”

“Except you’re not doing—”

“Technology has come a long way since you were my age, Grannie.”

“Can I do anything for you?”

“Nah.”

“Still at the gym?”

“No, after so many hours it’s recommended. I’m at the Louvre.”

“Recommended? Why?”

“It’s… You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Ektyp says our experience is better if we recalibrate daily before moving through the world, it’s called the gym. It isn’t a weight room, but it is the same.”

“Interesting. Still at the museum?”

“No, I’m watching the battle of Gettysburg.”

“That was quick.”

“Nothing takes forever anymore. The Louvre’s average is nine seconds. I did it in eight point seven.”

“Better than most, like you’ve always been.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Where?”

“To the park.”

“For what?”

“To watch ducks.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Really?” she says, both doubtful and surprised.

“Yes, well, I’ll go with Ektyp. It has everyone and everything, even you.”

“Oh.”

It is a short walk for her, an instant for him. He travels through numerous cameras and sensors woven together, programmed and projected light mixed into his senses, controlled by an elegant prosthetic that takes him to the pond with his grandmother. She watches the trees and grass sway, feels the wind, hears birds sing, and smells lilac, relishing it all.

She sits on a plastic bench where once was one of oak and iron. A drake mallard splashes; hens waltz nearby. She smiles at their drollery, then looks at the empty seat beside her.

“Funny how the boys are prettier than the girls,” she says, waiting for a response, hearing none. Another duck paddles to the edge of the pond and quacks loudly, disrupting the four who fly away, with the drake crying in protest.

With a laugh and wave, she says, “Is that you?” The supernormal bird moves along, losing itself in the white topped buttonbushes, yellow marsh marigolds, and pink swamp roses. The water becomes glassy, reflecting her calm.

Twenty feet away, a man is strolling the path. He smiles and waves. She impersonates for the stranger, barely lifting her hand from the backrest. He drops his brow and hurries his steps.

Leaving the bench and walking to the pond’s edge, her shoes sink in the mud to their laces. Water seeps in, wetting her socks. She grins and takes a deep breath, submerging a little further. A crow flies overhead, disappearing in vibrant green treetops.

Bemoaning her apartment, she leaves the fen. A young woman with opalescent eyes jogs by pushing a baby stroller. They exchange quiet courtesies and wilting gestures, vestigial appendages of a cultural corpus.

At home, she finds her grandson sitting.

“That you, Grandma?”

“Eaten yet?” she asks, letting her voice answer his question.

“Yep! How was the park?”

“I thought you were there with me?”

“For a bit, but I got bored.”

“Was that you who swam up and scared away the ducks?”

“And the crow! The man and the woman, too. They have Ektyp implants that I’m earning credits for. Isn’t it fun? We’re all connected now.”

“I guess so.”

“You should try Ektyp,” he says. “Here, try mine.”

He removes the headset and hands it to her. She takes it from him and studies the device. He looks down and says, “Grannie, your shoes! You’ve tracked in mud.”

“Oh, I forgot to take them off at the door.”

“Are you okay?” asks the boy.

She nods and says, “How do you use it?” turning his Ektyp over and around, running her fingers across its smooth matte finish.

“Put it on like a crown, then Ektyp will scan and calibrate. Once it knows you, your thoughts control the experience, allowing you to go anywhere, do anything, be anyone.”

“My thoughts?”

“Grandma, just try it. Take my chair.”

He stands from a recliner and groans.

“You’re too young to be sounding like that.”

“Or maybe you’re too old.”

“Hey! What would your father think if he heard you say that?”

“Put on Ektyp and ask him.”

“You mean a simulation,” she says, holding the contrivance.

“Feels real.”

She looks at a photo beside an urn. “But Caden, he’s been gone so long.”

“We’re only data. Ektyp uses Dad’s source material for its reincarnation feature. Try, I know you miss him.”

“Is that why you’re always wearing it?”

“Not really, I like traveling.”

“Maybe,” she says, handing the boy his hi-tech coronal, “when I can’t remember anymore.”

She wiggles her toes and smiles.