3

Saying goodbye

Before riding his bike to his father’s house, Jon pumped the tires and adjusted the breaks—something he ought to have done a while ago. It was sunny and warm, and the ride took only thirty minutes.

Technically, Jon’s father did not live in Sandwich, but in Minor Sandwich, although the town itself was small enough to make this distinction almost meaningless.

The seaside of Sandwich Bay had a winding path along the beach for people who enjoyed walking or jogging. Nobody but Jon rode a bike, and everybody he passed stared at him, turning their heads to follow his progress until he turned out of sight. Sometimes they would keep watching, motionless, as he became a tiny dot in the distance.

Jon could have taken the Jar, a glassy jar-shaped subway transportation system that connected towns and parts of towns, but riding his bike got him there quickly enough. The Jar passed by him several times wherever it rose up from underground. People ‘on the Jar,’ as we say, barely noticed him, being distracted by the news, Eye-calls with friends, or TV shows.

(Like most inventions that fall out of use, the bike had been replaced by something else: the solarcycle. Even at night, they generated a charge and required no effort whatsoever to operate. In fact, the riding seat reclines backward, like a moving armchair, but it never falls over due to auto-balancing capabilities.)

Jon parked his bike at the front of the house, which faced the sea, like all houses in Sandwich. At the door stood knee-high jars of translucent sea glass that Jon’s father had gathered on the beach over the years and organized by color: blue, green, purple, white, and pink…

“Dad? It’s me,” said Jon, knocking. “I’m coming in.”

Inside, Daniel Vélo sat in his wheelchair, staring vacantly at a news program in the air that Jon could not see or hear.

“Oh, what’s this? My son’s visiting and I didn’t even have to call him begging?”

His eyes focused on Jon, and he grinned Jon’s eye-scrunching grin.

“I visit you all the time, don’t I?”

“I’m just teasing. But usually you come over after I call you saying it’s been a while…”

“Fair enough.”

“So, what’s up?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he got a better look at his son.

“Why’s your Eye always out?”

“You know I don’t like wearing it all the time.”

“All the time? More like never.”

“Well…”

“How are you supposed to see my photography on the walls without your Eye in? I took some good ones last weekend up by Sandwich Spoon.”

Jon put his Eye in to look at the rather typical photos his father had taken of the beach. It happens with certain elderly people that they adopt an invention more quickly than someone younger, and rely more completely on its conveniences, as life gets lonelier. We believe this described Daniel Vélo’s relationship to 3RD-Eye technology.

“I didn’t know you went all the way to Sandwich Spoon by yourself.”

“Well, it wasn’t very far. Why are you so surprised?”

“I just thought you normally stay around the beach out front.”

“Yeah, but I picked it clean of sea glass, so I went scrounging around up there. Check this out…”

Dan pointed to a table and his Eye-controlled wheelchair rolled in that direction. (Pointing is unnecessary, but most people cannot help making gestures to complete tasks via the Eye). On the table was a pile of sea glass in a beam of hot sunshine, which cast a colorful glow over the wall behind it.

“I found all of this yesterday.”

“It’s pretty.”

“Anyway, what’s going on with you?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“I know. So tell me.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? I don’t imagine you came over to say hi.”

Jon grinned like his father had done earlier. “You make me sound like an awful son,” he said, laughing.

“No, just a normal one.”

“Well, I’m going on a little trip… Actually, it’s a long trip. I’m going to ride my bike around the whole of Icomo.”

“Oh… “ Dan looked stunned for a moment. “That sounds fun!”

Jon took a deep breath of relief.

“You think so? You don’t think it sounds crazy?”

“Crazy? Yeah, maybe. But I wish I could go.”

We, the biographers, imagine Jonathan Vélo to have inherited his romanticism from his father.

“You do?”

“Don’t you know I used to ride my bike everywhere long before you were even born?”

“But nobody rides bikes anymore.”

“Things go in and out of style. Just wait. You’ll see how it works.”

Jon smiled.

“That’s true.”

Dan turned his wheelchair toward the front window.

“If I was a typical old man, I’d probably say something like, ‘Aren’t you supposed to hang around here and take care of your dad?’ But luckily for you, there are robots for that nowadays. It’s also not your fault your mom and I had children so late in life.”

“I won’t be gone forever. Everyone seems to think I’m never coming back.”

“A year feels like forever, until it’s over.”

“Mom would probably be worried about me taking a trip like this.”

“Yep, but that’s what moms are for.”

“So what are dads for?”

“Dads are for saying, ‘Give me a foot rub before you go,’ but I’ve got a robot for that, too.”

“You had to rub grandpa’s feet?”

“No, I’m only joking. We had robots back then, too. I’m not that old. Anyway, I wouldn’t have touched your grandpa’s feet with a stick.”

Jon laughed.

“So you really do have a foot-rubbing robot?”

“That’s for real. Want to try it?”

“I’m all set…”

Dan’s eyes wandered to a window that had a view of the bright, rolling ocean.

“How about we gather sea glass together this afternoon?”

“Sure, let’s do it.”

They walked up and down the narrow coast for two hours, collecting sea glass of every color, according to the Eye archives of Daniel Vélo; and by that afternoon, they had filled a small bag.

Dan’s wheelchair rolled over the sand with ease and crawled over boulders like a tank. He used an Eye-controlled robotic arm to reach forward and dig around. Drawing the arm inward toward himself, he sifted through the sand on its palm.

In the evening, they ate dinner together, and it occurred to Dan that his son’s trip could be about more than a simple craving for adventure.

“This trip doesn’t have anything to do with Brittany, does it?”

Jon felt a rush of déjà vu. Catherine had said almost the exact same thing. Staring at his food, he replied: “Of course not.”

“Well, just asking.”

A pause while they ate.

“You know, your mom and I were also separated for a while before we got married. But you know that already. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn about staying behind while she went to school for her superlaureate. Years were wasted feeling lonely and regretful. In the end, though, we finally came back together…”

Dan knew some of the history between his son and Brittany. He thought it seemed rather like what had happened to him and Jon’s mother, Kate. Jon said nothing and kept eating.

After dinner, he promised to call often via the Eye, then rode home. He felt a little sad about leaving, but excited as well.

At work on Monday he trained his replacement. By the end of the day, the trainee was mostly ready to take over. Jon spent the rest of the week reading or assisting when necessary. After all, it was an easy job.

On Friday night, he clocked out for the final time, went home, and thought about everything he needed to do that weekend so that he would be ready come Monday to set off.