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Coldness in the Heat

Eric Burbridge

    You only have a half charge on your scooter, Dr. Novak.
    “I know, Sheila, but I’m only going down the road. I got enough for a round trip to the Mini-Mart.”
    Since you are cleared for this activity by your doctor stick to the schedule.
    “I’ll be fine, getting out of this technological petri dish for the elderly is good for the body and soul. Fake sunshine, fake this and that, they can keep it. I’m getting out in the real air, dirty or not. Let them tell it, everything you do or have done will kill you. That’s why I’m eighty-five.” Novak adjusted his cap in the mirror.
    Sarcasm doctor? First time this week, I was starting to worry.
    “I’m worried about you. Your image fades periodically and that chops off your big round butt, my favorite part.” He circled the centered holographic projection platform and sat on his scooter. “Good bye, Sheila.”
    Novak rolled by the elevator and down the ramp. He got blasted with a wave of heat from the atrium skylight. The moving walkways were out of order for the third week. None of the usual crowd was about. The security station was empty another apparent budget cutback. The AI screen came to life when he pulled up.
    Pass please.
    He flashed and waited.
    You have four hours, Dr. Novak and you only have a half charged scooter. You have not updated it or the phone or emergency beacons.
    “Yes, I know, I’ll do it upon my return.” He drove through the doors. The heat smacked him. “Damn...it’s hotter than I thought, but his arthritis loved it. He accelerated and merged into the bike lane. The breeze dried the sweat on his face. His earlier model scooter had extra power, it cost battery life, but the top speed of 20 mph came in handy. The path curved and dipped through the golf course. He zipped past several carts toward the manned security gate that lead to the outside. He hadn’t seen his favorite guard in two weeks. She must’ve have been on vacation. He pulled up and the expectant Crystal smiled showing her perfect set of white teeth.
    “Hey, Dr. Novak.”
    “Hey beautiful, you still love me?”
    She laughed while the gate retracted. “You know it. Be careful in this heat, okay?”
    “Got it.” He cruised a hundred meters to the jogging/bike path along Highway 93 North. Half smooth and the other half full of potholes it was the quickest way to the strip mall across the Indiana border. The two percent difference in sales tax made a difference for those on fixed incomes. He swerved to avoid several potholes that were more like trenches. A hundred meters ahead he saw someone sitting on a scooter with its four ways flashing. He pulled up and an elderly lady with sun burnt skin, flat features with huge bags under her bloodshot eyes smiled then frowned. She sized up his scooter, rolled her eyes and looked past him toward the stoplight. “Miss, you need help?”
    She wiped her forehead with a soiled handkerchief. “What do you think? My battery died or whatever.” Novak turned around and got off to check her gauges. “Put it in gear.” It moved. “It’s low, not dead thank goodness. I’ll give you a ten minutes boost that should get you home. You live in ‘The Complex’?”
    “Yeah, where else?”
    “It’s good it died in the shade. Oh, by the way I’m Jose.” He got a grunt. He shook his head. “You’re not in the best of moods, the heat will do that.” He hooked her up and didn’t bother with small talk. Ten minutes later. “Well, whatever your name is, that should do it.” He checked the gauge then disconnected the cable. He waited for a thank you or a sign of appreciation. She turned in the opposite direction and snarled at him. Frustrated he hit the pedal and his scooter bogged down. “What the hell!” He tapped his gauge and it dropped to zero. “Wait lady, you have to charge me for a minute.
    The angry old woman stopped. “I seen you around. You one of those short, shriveled up uppity people who stay in the rich part. And, you look like that Mexican in the White House who’s fuckin’ over the poor. You related? Call somebody, I ain’t helpin’ you with shit. Bye.” She sped away.
    “And you look like that bitch on the pancake box!” He shook his cane in her direction. “I hope you have an accident!” Being nice...now look at me. No cars or joggers anywhere. He reached for his phone. He forgot it; he hit the panic button. Dead. “I don’t believe this!” The golf course was empty, but a wave of vehicles approached. He stood and waved his cane furiously. They whizzed past like he was invisible. Sweat rolled down his face. He sat and took a deep breath. “Don’t get dehydrated, relax.” He prepared to walk back when a small truck pulled onto the path next to him. The window opened and a cool breeze refreshed him for a second.
    “Need help or something, Pops?”
    “Yes, young man, if you give me a ten minute charge that should get me home, I’d appreciate it.” The guy got out and to Novak’s surprise he was short, skinny and wore his hair in two ponytails. His clothes were filthy and a shower wouldn’t hurt.
    “I’m a businessman, nothings free, Pops.” He opened a door on the truck’s back panel. “Well, how much you got?”
    Novak sighed. “Can’t you help a senior, young man?”
    “I’m Jimmy, and no I can’t. He pushed the cable back in. “Taking care of you seniors is why the young don’t and can’t get shit. Good bye.” Jimmy turned.
    “Wait a second, I got twenty bucks.” He pulled out the bill. Jimmy snatched it. “Ok.”
    “You’re one rude person, Jimmy.” Is it him or what? He pissed two people off. Is
    it that bad out here? Current events weren’t his strong point.
    “That’s it, old man.” Jimmy disconnected the cable.
    “It hasn’t been ten minutes.”
    “So...That’ll have to do. I’m gone.” He zoomed away.
    Novak fanned the dust the young whippersnapper’s vehicle kicked up. “You dirty
     son of a bitch, I hope you die!” He picked up a rock and hurled at the long gone truck. A cop drove by and u-turned. He turned on his dome lights and got out. Novak wondered how he squeezed a 6'7" frame in that tiny cruiser. “Sir, you need help?”
    “Yeah officer I do.”
    The cop smiled. “You threw that rock pretty far for a guy your age.”
    Novak read his name tag. “Well, Officer Tate, I gave that guy a twenty for a ten minute charge to get home.” He pointed at the complex. “Two minutes and he’s gone. What’s wrong with young people these days?”
    The officer shrugged. “That’s a long story. I’ll hook you up.”
    “Thank you, officer.” Novak felt relief, but he’d have to put his scooter in the shop.
    Officer Tate jumped out his car. “I have a call be careful in this heat.” The cable retracted and he sped away. The charge was sufficient. He pushed the control forward. He looked down and stopped when he saw a pack of folded cards. It was several scratch-off lottery tickets of various games. Who dropped them? He didn’t notice them before and he hadn’t gone more than ten feet since he stopped for Aunt Jemima. He hoped it was the old hag’s or the smart ass. They deserved it.

*

    “Sheila, schedule my scooter for maintenance as soon as possible. The reason; meter accuracy and battery charge.”
    Ok, Dr. Novak, anything else?
    “Watch me scratch off these lottery tickets. I got a good feeling.” He waved them around like he’d won. “But, I know the odds.” He scratched the first batch. Not even a free ticket and blew the shavings all over the table. “These look promising.” He whispered and his lucky penny went back to work; ten thousand, ten thousand and bust. Dammit. Lucky 50 grand was next. “God knows I can use it.” 50 Grand, 50 Grand and he hesitated, 50...Grand. He shot to his feet.
    Hallelujah!!!
    “Sheila, I hit!”
    Congratulations, Dr. Novak. The AI’s medical scan kicked in. Calm down, your vitals are at a critical level.
    Novak went and fell on the sofa. He grabbed his chest gasping for air. He closed his eyes. “Calm down, Jose, calm down.”
    If your vitals remain elevated I’ll have to notify the EMT’s
    He woke an hour and a half later. For a second he didn’t know where he was, and then it hit him. “I didn’t know I was that tired, Sheila, why didn’t you wake me?
    You needed the rest, Dr. Novak and your vitals are normal.
    “I got plans for this money. I’m getting an upgrade to your software from standard 3D imagery to programmable. I’m giving you Sheila’s body when she was fifty. She looked great, like she was in her late thirties to early forties. It’ll be in privacy mode, of course. You aren’t replacing Sheila in my mind, Sheila, but I feel better seeing her in you. Pictures everywhere is clutter, I hate clutter. After taxes, if any, I’ll give half to the grandkids and go to Vegas.”
    It sounds good, Dr. Novak.
    “And, for a while at least, forget crossing the border to save a few dollars. I could’ve gotten hurt out there. People are bitter, but why get mad at me?” Novak got the cold beer he allotted himself for the week and popped the top.

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