Planned Obsolescence

By Elisabeth_Long

Prompt: Grandma's secret past and 'certain set of skills' come to light when a school fieldtrip to an alien world goes wrong (prompted by RJGlynn).

The orderly, Donia, stomps through the open door of the office and stops before the Director's desk. She folds her thick arms over her chest. Her nitrile-gloved fingers tap a staccato rhythm on her biceps as she waits to be acknowledged. The Director is reading something off the Meta Channel on her desk tablet.

"NaNa84 wasn't in her bed this morning," Donia says without preamble the second the Director deigns to look up.

The Director slides the tablet screen off and leans back in her chair.

"Shut the door," she tells Donia.

The blare of a car horn draws my attention to the window beside the desk. The street below is busy with morning traffic. One vehicle appears stalled in the middle of the main lane. Looks fancy. Cars run on hydrogen fuel cells now, don't they? I saw that on an ad while I perused the Meta Channel last night. That reminds me, I used to have a vintage Tesla, stored at my house. Long gone now, no doubt. Both car and house.

The Director rises from her chair and heads to the beverage bar where she pours herself a coffee from the steaming pot.

"Where was the Grandma?" she asks.

The Grandma. How quaint.

The forms of address they use for us here –Grandmas and Grandpas– are supposed to foster warm feelings between residents and staff. I call BS.

"She was sitting on a bench in the staff lounge." Donia runs a beefy hand over her face. "Director, she was fully dressed in a staff uniform, with shoes on. NaNa84 looked me straight in the eye when she saw me and wished me 'Good morning, Donia'. Then..."

The orderly's voice trails off and she scowls.

"Then?" the Director prompts. She takes a sip from her mug before settling back down at her desk. Unlike Donia, the Director is all smooth movement and calm airs.

"Then she bent over and started doing all kinds of fancy tie-ups with the shoelaces."

I bite back a smile. What can I say? Thought I'd have a spot of fun at Donia's expense. The look on her face when she found me was priceless.

Of all the orderlies, I like Donia best. A cold-hearted bitch after my own heart. She likes slamming the food trays in front of us so hard things spill. She proceeds to force-feed those who can't hold their own utensils till they gag.

When it comes to bathing, she uses a washcloth like it's sandpaper and hoses us down without a care for the temperature or water pressure. She's also fond of jabbing hard when it comes to giving us injections or drawing blood. I rub the latest sore spot on my inner elbow.

Seriously though, if anyone should be scowling, it should be me. I was having fun before Donia showed up. It's only in the last three days or so that my hands and fingers have become nimble. Now I can clasp and pull and yank and snap and tie knots and do all kinds of twisty fun things with my thumbs again.

"Before you ask, Director, I was the one who put NaNa84 to bed last night. She was in her standard issue nightdress."

That synthetic piece of shit they put all of us in for bed. It's nothing more than plastic wrap. Man, what I wouldn't give for my old flannel pyjamas. They were fluffy and warm and indestructible in the wash. I wonder if pyjamas like that still exist.

But I digress.

Donia's bothered by the fact I was playing with shoelaces? Obviously the orderly's not the sharpest tool in the shed. Maybe that's why the Director recruited her as a lackey. Big picture, Donia, big picture. The questions to ponder are how did a resident get out of her locked room on her own? The resident whose chart above her bed lists her age as 78 years old with conditions like dementia, impaired mobility, rheumatoid arthritis, age-related macular degeneration.

How did this Grandma get dressed in a staff uniform that'd been in a locked storage closet? A Grandma who used to hobble up and down the corridors with her walker on a mindless wander, whispering gibberish to herself. At least, that's what I recall doing, before things changed.

"Did anyone else see her?"

"No, Director. I was the first to arrive this morning. I brought NaNa84 back to her room and changed her into her day robe. She didn't talk at all any more, just let me move her along." Donia exhales a sharp breath. "Her eyes have changed since yesterday too, Director. They're...they're not clouded any more."

Guess Donia hadn't spotted my roots. Good thing. I only noticed them myself in my room mirror earlier. My hair's starting to come in my natural auburn.

"I'm worried about any security footage, Director."

Please, what a joke. My sweep of the security systems the other night revealed an embarrassing absence of anything more than a cheap camera in the main dining hall and a handful of smoke detectors scattered about, two of which were defective.

There used to be a guard but he got dropped recently.

I've never seen such lax measures in a facility before. Back in my day, in my line of work, bare basic security meant thermal and motion detectors, pressure sensors, laser scanners... Hold on. Why do I think that? Ugh. It's so frustrating not recalling everything all at once. I'll get there though. I feel it.

Anyway the authorities obviously don't consider the elderly residents of a seniors home to be a threat or worth much in terms of protection.

"Where's NaNa84 now?"

"She's in her room, sleeping."

Sorry, that's a no. But my roomie NaNa16 won't snitch. Advanced dementia. Non-verbal. Deaf. It's very convenient.

"Did you take a blood sample at the time?" the Director asks.

"Yeah, here."

Donia pulls a tube out of her tunic and hands it over.

"Leave any possible security footage to me." The Director pockets the tube and starts gathering the papers on her desk. So old-fashioned. The woman doesn't trust electronic data storage. Don't blame her. Makes things easier for me too. I've been learning all kinds of things reading through her paper files she keeps locked away in a safe.

"I have this week's school field trip to prepare," the Director continues, "and a ton of other matters to get to. I'll ask my Pharma contact to try and obtain NaNa84's pre-Collapse identity file. Maybe there's something in her background that would explain the behaviour you witnessed. According to our records, she was an accountant for what used to be a tax office."

Good grief. A bean counter?

I know that's not the truth.

"Administer the Grandma's next re-gen dose in a couple of hours. In the meantime, change the lockcode on her room door."

Oh, fun! I do love a good codebreaking.

"Don't worry, Donia. This is a positive development." The Director smiles at the orderly. "We don't need much longer. Just enough time to provide conclusive results to my Pharma contact. Once the data's in, we get our payout as well as free refurbishments."

"And what if the Corp Gov finds out what we're doing?" Donia sounds nervous. "What if the Grandma causes us to get caught? There was already public attention because of the accident last week."

Ah yes, the accident. I can't help but smirk.

The intercom on the desk buzzes. "Code 1 in GP wing. Cleaners en route."

GP wing, where the Grandfathers' rooms are. Code 1 is the designation for cessation of vital signs. In other words, death.

The Director stares at the intercom. "Then NaNa84 has a Code 1 sooner than planned," she replies to Donia. "And we begin again."

Not if I have anything to do with it.

Donia is nodding, satisfied with the Director's answer. Guess it appeals to her sadistic side. "Right, I better get back on the floor." She turns to the door but pauses.

"Director?"

"Yes?"

"It's your 45th birthday next year, isn't it."

The Director rises from her chair again. "And we'll celebrate together with champagne and nice fat untraceable credits, not to mention new identities and revised best before dates for us and our families." She rounds her desk and motions for the orderly to follow her out.

When the office door clicks shut behind them, I pull my face away from the ceiling vent grid and speed crawl back into the HVAC tunnel towards my room. Best get some sleep for real. I'll come back after bed down. Extra reconnaissance never hurts. Knowledge is power after all and it's best to be prepared.

*****

I yank the nightdress where it's bunched by my hip. The metal siding of the vent is icy against my skin but my firming muscles and return of healthy fatty tissue are padding me enough that it doesn't cause an issue.

I was going to read through more of the Director's files but she's still here in her office despite the late hour. She keeps looking at the time. Is she expecting a call? Maybe it'll be her Pharma contact? I decide to hang around. Gives me some quiet time to reflect on what I've learned so far.

They're conducting experiments using so-called ReFit nanites. From what I can tell, the Director is providing seniors as lab rats for some Pharma group to experiment injecting and withdrawing these nanites into and from elderly bloodstreams. Something to do with trying to hack the nanites' primary code. Force them to operate beyond a programmed 45-year period in order to deactivate what's called... Planned Obsolescence? I've no clue what any of this is. My memory draws a blank. Anyway, their experiment has yet to yield the hoped for results. However, and lucky for me, there has been a rather neat and unexpected side effect. The altered nanites in my bloodstream appear to be rejuvenating me.

Just how far back will they go?

The soft chime of an incoming call interrupts my thoughts. I lower my face to the ceiling vent grid once again.

The Director is facing the lit up vid screen on the wall.

"Ah, sweetheart, it's lovely to see you."

The teenage girl whose smile fills the screen is wearing a school uniform. The name tag reads "Jana".

The girl fusses with the feed on her end for a moment before dropping into a wing chair. I watch in amusement as she flops a leg over one of the armrests. So flexible and spry. Just as I was at her age. Just as I am once again

"Mom, I saw on the news about a guard having been in an accident at your place last week. You didn't say anything about it last time we spoke."

Oh yes. The accident again. The guard had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Caught me poking about before I was ready to be seen. What can I say? Collateral damage. Unfortunate but necessary.

"I didn't want to worry you, Jana," the Director tells her. "The guard was close to his expiry anyway. That's why I didn't mention it in our last call. Everything's fine. It was just an unfortunate accident. The man lost his footing on the emergency stairwell. "

Watch out for that first step. It's a doozy.

Not going to lie. It felt great being back in action at that moment.

"Now then, your class is coming for the field trip tomorrow."

"Oh yes!" The daughter's face lights up with excitement. "Our teacher has been preparing us all week. I'm so excited to see you, Mom! Four classes are going. Should be fun on the buses!"

"I look forward to it," the Director says. "Are there any cute boys in your group?"

"Mom!"

"What? I'm not expired yet."

The teen giggles but then grows sober.

"What's the matter, Jana?"

"Mom... it's your 45th birthday next year. I-I don't want you to expire."

"Jana, let's talk when you're home next weekend, ok?"

"Yeah, ok."

The rest of their conversation is about new outfits and the agricultural engineering program Jana has been placed in for her function after she graduates. I only half listen. My mind is racing with other thoughts.

School field trip. Busses.

I've got a plan.

I just need to access the Meta Channels off the Director's tablet again once she leaves.

*****

The main hall is abuzz with young voices. There must be close to a hundred students present.

I watch from my room's doorway, propped against my walker. My back aches from leaning over the handles when all I want is to stand straight. I make sure to keep my day gown's long sleeves pulled over my hands. Where there'd been criss-crossing blue veins just this morning is now clear skin.

A teacher calls for silence from the front. The noise volume drops and he begins to address the adolescents.

"Today you have been granted a great privilege. Schools from all the remaining City States send their best students to be among those to visit this Elder Care Institute.

"You've learned in True History that when climate change brought about the Last Plague and subsequent Collapse, our Corporate Government research facilities developed the ReFit nanites that saved humanity. In exchange for safe living conditions and to preserve the limited resources of our changed world, we citizens of the New Order have accepted to live a fixed lifetime of service. Our nanites ensure we fulfil meaningful purpose until expiry. We all know optimal operation is finite and quality control must be preserved. Planned Obsolescence at 45 is humanity's saving grace.

"But there are those who defy this. Those who care not about any drain on resources, the damage to the planet caused by sustaining ageing bodies. The suffering to fellow citizens caused by their selfishness."

The teacher makes a grand gesture with his arm towards all the Grandmas and Grandpas that have been strategically lined around the hall. Some stand, some have walkers, many are in wheelchairs. The students openly gape at them. Many of the teens' expressions show revulsion, disgust.

"Behold the consequences of defying Planned Obsolescence." The teacher speaks louder now. "Behold the Outdated. The Beyond 45s. Here are those who refused the ReFit programming, who selfishly denied their best before stature. Witness their suffering, their decay. The utter waste.

"Let what you see today serve as a reminder that Planned Obsolescence is merciful. It is the natural course to accept that we have a fixed window of time to produce, to build, to sustain to the best of our abilities.

"Embrace your life. Live it to the fullest and be happy to fulfil your assigned purpose and perform to your best abilities. Upon expiry, your nanites will be recycled. And will live on in the next generation of youth. We thus learn from the past, function in the present, and prepare to sustain the future.

"Embrace Planned Obsolescence."

*****

The teacher has wrapped up his speech and is now talking to some of the staff.

Students hanging in the back are chatting in whispers. They've no clue I'm listening.

"Ugh, what's that smell?" A girl clamps her hand over her nose, her eyes squinting. The name badge on her uniform says "Galen".

"Stinks like piss and mouldy bread," says a boy whose tag reads Trace.

"Shh" Galen slaps Trace's arm then sneaks a look to the front at the teacher.

A girl named Masie pulls out a tube from the bag on her shoulder, pops the cover and takes a whiff.

"What is that?" Galen asks.

"Perfume stick."

"Gimme." Galen snatches the tube, dabbing the tip straight under a nostril.

"Don't shove it up your nose," Masie hisses.

"Yum, boogers," Trace chuckles.

"Hey, where's Jana?" I tense at Galen's question.

"She went to see her mother," Masie replies. "She's the Director of this place. Can you believe it?"

"Ugh, imagine working here?" Galen whispers. "Your clothes must stink like crazy when you get back home."

"Hey, didn't a guard here die?" The boy who spoke, Benzir, casts furtive glances all around.

"You're such a news junkie, Ben. It was an accident. Who cares about that?" Galen points ahead. "Looks like we're finally moving on."

The teacher is leading the students towards the dining hall area.

As I watch, rushing footsteps approach from around the corner.

Well, well, well, if it isn't the Director's daughter. Jana must have just come from her mother's office.

"Jana!" Galen is waving at her from far ahead. The girl hurries over to join her classmates.

There comes another set of footsteps. It's Donia, carrying a familiar plastic container with bandages and syringes. She starts when she sees me standing in my supposed-to-be-locked doorway.

"Shit. This is insane," she mutters under her breath. She gives me a vicious smile. "Hey Grandma, time for your meds. Don't want to be late with your dose."

Her fingers dig into my arm and she frowns. I keep my face blank while inwardly enjoying her reaction. What's the matter, Donia? Weren't expecting muscle where there used to be sagging flesh?

"What the hell?"

She stares at me hard. "Get the fuck in here." She shoves. "I'm getting the Director after I jab you good."

I let her lead me to my bed. The students and other staff are gone so no one sees when after a few minutes, I'm the one to close the door.

*****

The automatic bus doors swing open.

"New driver?" The teacher who'd given the speech looks up at me from the sidewalk.

"Shift change, sir."

I'm a little out of breath. I cut it close but made it nonetheless.

I adjust my cap. My cropped auburn hair makes for a loose fit. I had to be quick to hack off the white lengths with a pair of bandage scissors. I smooth out a wrinkle in the driver uniform I'm wearing.

The teacher grunts an acknowledgement then proceeds to let the students file up the steps to take their seats.

Holographic displays dance along the dash. I'm not worried. The bus schematics I called up last night on the Meta Channel showed me the basics. And I'm a fast learner.

I check the time display. There's another two hours before the next floor rounds.

I wonder who'll be found first. A blue-faced Donia with shoelaces tied around her throat tucked in my bed. Or will it be the bus driver with the broken neck stuffed into a toilet stall?

I nod and smile at the passing students.

I'll have to follow up on that Pharma contact. Pretty sure my real identity would have been totally wiped from any records.. The Corp Gov wouldn't want their former operatives and assassins to be known--but best to make sure.

It's mostly all come back to me now. My former life. Feels kind of like waking up from a deep sleep. Perhaps I'd been condemned to ageing as punishment for some transgression? Haven't remembered yet what I did. Doesn't matter at the moment. My current mission objective is clear.

"Hello, Jana," I say.

The Director's daughter has just climbed aboard.

"Do I know you?" She frowns at my shirt that has no name tag.

"My name's Celeste." And it is.

The girl gives me a confused smile then moves on to the back.

I can't wait to talk to the Director.