Phil Williams - 2050 - Psycho Island

His phone chimed in his pocket. He grabbed his cell and swiped right with his left thumb while still holding the suction hose with his right hand. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” April replied. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re busy.”

“I’m not that busy. The picker’s doin’ all the work. I can do my job with one hand tied behind my back.” Derek continued to suction oranges as he spoke with his girlfriend.

“I won’t be able to see you this weekend.”

“I was lookin’ forward to seein’ you.”

“I know. Me too. I’m sorry. We’re prepping for next week’s trial. I’ll be lucky to sleep, much less have the weekend off. Don’t you have Lindsey with you this weekend anyway?”

“I want you both here. It’d be good if Lindsey got to know you better.”

“She probably wants some father-daughter time.”

Derek exhaled. “I doubt that. I don’t think she even wants to visit anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

“I wish it wasn’t. I don’t blame her. She lives in a mansion where she has all the latest gadgets and doesn’t have to lift a finger. She comes here, with no VR room, no butler cleanin’ up after her, and the internet’s slow as molasses in January.”

“She’s a teenager. It’s a phase. She’ll get over it.”

“You’re right.” Derek paused for a moment. “I need to quit my whinin’.”

“I should get back to work. I’ll call you this weekend.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.” April disconnected the call.

Derek replaced his phone in his pocket. The picker shuddered and stopped cold. Derek checked the dashboard screen. It was blank. He turned off the power and waited. He’d been having trouble with the machine overheating. To save itself from frying any important parts, the picker shut down when it got too hot.

His mechanic had told him that the picker was in desperate need of refurbishment and probably needed a new motherboard, but Derek hoped to get through the fall, using the money from the harvest for the repairs. Ten minutes later, he turned on the machine. The picker resumed work, and Derek breathed a sigh of relief.

The Roths tapped on their tablets as the robot served them breakfast. The dining room table was covered in white linen, a chandelier overhead, antique and ornate plates on display in the nearby china cabinet. Jacob and Rebecca had smoked salmon and eggs benedict and roasted potatoes with chicory and hollandaise sauce. Their boys, David and Ethan, had buttermilk pancakes, bacon, and organic apples. Their eldest child, teenager Lindsey, also had pancakes, but hers were chocolate chip with cinnamon whipped cream.

“Hey, no fair,” David said, scowling at his sister’s breakfast. “Why does she get whipped cream?”

“And chocolate chips. You need to learn to code.” Lindsey grinned at David and took a bite of her pancakes.

“I do know how to code,” David said to Lindsey. “Better than you, stock girl .” He said stock girl under his breath.

“But who has chocolate chip pancakes, and who doesn’t?”

“All the pancakes are good,” said Ethan, the youngest. He looked up at the robot and said, “Thank you for breakfast, Jeeves.”

“You’re very welcome, Master Ethan,” Jeeves replied.

“Make me chocolate chip pancakes now ,” David said to the bot.

“Right away, Master David.”

The five-foot-six robot was shaped like a human, with arms and legs and a head roughly proportional to a human being. His aluminum and titanium frame was covered in white and blue plastic, making him look softer and more toylike. Six years ago, when Jacob had purchased the household bot for Rebecca, the bot’s demeanor and British accent had been chosen by Lindsey.

Rebecca looked up from her tablet. “No, Jeeves. Don’t spoil him. Nothing is wrong with the breakfast he has.”

David crossed his arms over his chest, his face reddening. The six-year-old had straight dark hair parted to the side, dark eyes, and a gap where his bottom front baby teeth had fallen out. “That’s not spoiling me. Pancakes cost like one Fed Coin.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“Do you want me to have a bad day?”

“This isn’t a debate.”

“I want chocolate chip pancakes!” David smacked the sides of his fists on the table.

“That’s enough ,” Jacob said, glaring at David.

Rebecca took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “Jeeves isn’t making you another breakfast. That’s final.”

David huffed and pouted, his lower lip protruding.

Jacob held out his coffee cup, never lifting his eyes from his tablet. “More coffee.”

“Right away, sir,” Jeeves said, taking his cup and walking to the kitchen.

Rebecca turned to her daughter. “Don’t forget. You’re at your dad’s this weekend.”

Lindsey set down her fork with a clang . “Do I have to go?”

“You missed last time.”

“But the farm is so boring. And I wanna go to this VR party.”

“I’m sure your dad will be fine with you going to the party.”

“His internet’s too slow for VR.”

“Well, I’ll talk to him. We’ll see what he says.”

“What about the adoption?” Lindsey asked. “Once I’m adopted, I don’t have to go, right?”

With that, Jacob looked up from his tablet, chewing his food.

“He hasn’t agreed to that yet,” Rebecca said.

“Have you even asked him?” Lindsey replied.

“Not yet, but I will. He’ll want to talk to you about it though.”

Lindsey’s eyes widened. “But he’ll be upset.”

“He’ll understand,” Jacob interjected. “It’s for the best. He’ll see that.”

“One step at a time. I’ll talk to him this week,” Rebecca said.

“About the weekend and the adoption?” Lindsey asked.

“Yes.”

David giggled and said in a singsong voice, “Lindsey’s not a Roth. Lindsey’s not a Roth—”

“Lindsey’s already a Roth,” Jacob said, cutting off David’s song. “This is just a formality.”

Lindsey smiled at her stepfather sitting across the table.

Rebecca turned to Jacob and mouthed I love you . Jacob placed his hand atop his wife’s and squeezed. Rebecca was in her late-thirties, but she looked ten years younger, no doubt improved by modern cosmetic surgeries. She was naturally pretty with high cheekbones and bright brown eyes, but she was made flawless by science.

Unwanted fat cells were killed by nanolipo, a technique that injected gold nanoparticles into problem areas, the fat then melted by a laser. Other lasers were used to smooth and to tighten her skin, to remove unwanted veins and stretch marks, and to heal sun damage. Without invasive surgery, she stayed young, … at least in appearance.

“Grandpa doesn’t think Lindsey’s a Roth,” David said with a crooked smirk.

“Yes, he does,” Rebecca replied. “Who told you that?”

“You did.” David paused for a beat. “’Cause you said Lindsey has a different dad.”

“Not another word,” Jacob said, pointing his knife across the table at David.

“ Word .”

Jacob shook his head, looking at Rebecca. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Without Jeeves, I’m not sure I could.”

“I love you,” Ethan said to his half sister. “I don’t care if you get adopted.”

“Thanks, peanut,” Lindsey replied.

“That was sweet, Ethan,” Rebecca said.

Five-year-old Ethan beamed at his mother’s approval. Like his brother, he looked like he could be a child actor, with his light-brown hair and big brown eyes, like his mother; whereas David had jet-black hair and dark eyes, like his father.