Another journal

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Despite her worry, Emily fell asleep easily and woke at her aunt’s clock stereo blaring the static between stations. She tried to make coffee while her aunt was in the shower, but the stained, capable coffee maker had been replaced by something all shiny metal and clean glass. Emily was still staring at it when Janice emerged in a cloud of steam, towelling her hair.

“It’s a French press.”

“Okay.”

“It seemed silly to have something that made so much coffee when it was just me drinking it. Besides, it tastes better.” She flicked the towel at Emily. “Go wash and I’ll make it.”

Laughing, Emily complied.

Janice drank her coffee in gulps as she got ready for work.

“I have some vacation time due, I can take it right away and then if it all works out I’ll never have to go back.” Restrained joy gave her voice a lilt.

“You’ll just leave without giving notice?” Emily was startled, her aunt had strict rules of responsibility and running out on a job broke several of them.

“Hon, this world doesn’t matter to me. All that mattered was raising you. Now you’re good and raised and I can go back to living for myself. It’s something lots of people do once their kids are grown up.”

Emily made a non-committal noise in her throat and sipped her coffee.

Her aunt gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Things will work out. The rest of the court is too worried to risk jeopardising their chances of going back. They’ll figure out what to do with the children.” Patting her pockets to check for keys, Janice stopped at the door as though she had something to add. She shook her head and sighed. “Love you, kid.” The door shut softly, leaving Emily alone.

Janice had shown her the basics of using the computer and how the internet worked. She’d tried to get Emily to set up an email account, but by then Emily was getting overwhelmed with information and was shying away from the laptop like it was a giant beetle.

Emily had met a giant beetle at the Institute and he’d been very nice. Nicer, in her opinion, than the computer. She made a face and turned the thing on. It glowed dully at her. The keyboard felt weird to use, there was no angle and little feedback and she found herself striking the keys harder than necessary.

She typed in “Polaroid film” and waited for the search query to cycle through. Emily had an idea that the computer could tell her where she could buy a lot of film at once. The results popped up and her heart fell as she scanned through the summaries for each one. Polaroid was no longer producing their instant film and no replacement was on the horizon.

Angrily, Emily slammed the laptop closed. The beetle, she decided, was far nicer.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.