A Chronicle of Sam Moon
The following is for Anthony Davis, a close acquaintance, to show the advantage of dialogue for immediate involvement...
"Hm. You're about out of seed Josie, aren't you? We'll fix that."
Samuel Popovich hobbled over to the cabinet he kept for Josie, his parakeet, and dipped a tiny scoop into a metal cannister. He then emptied the seed into the plastic receptacle in Josie's spacious cage. When he was younger, Sam used to "moon" the other kids when they'd pick at him about his name. So they called him Sam Moon.
His mind wandered back to his usual worry, <I hope my son will be here soon to fix those dad-burned electrical gizmos. I sure am glad I have him !> How he longed for the 'good old' days.
"Josie, you're practically ancient now. How do you think I feel at more than 10 times your age?"
Sam sat down in his armchair, put on his specs and picked up the old family album. He soon drifted to sleep. About an hour and a half later, he heard a double tap, followed by the words "Pop - I'm here", and the door opened - automatically.
"Hi, Son. How's your wife Rainbow?" Sam tried to say his daughter-in-law's given name naturally, but it was all he could do to just 'spit it out'. <Rainbow Popovich. What kind of name is that?>
"Doug, while you're here, will you check out the microwave oven for me?"
The middle-aged Doug's countenance twisted into a halfway stern, yet loving and respectful look. "Pop, how many times have I told you I'll buy you new appliances if you'll just let me, AI appliances? After all, Pop, it is 2037! You have to adapt to the times. Modernize. I'll help you, Pop. Won't you please let me?"
Image Credit » https://pixabay.com/illustrations/binary-one-cyborg-cybernetics-1536651/