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I’m running late, negotiating mergers across three lanes of freeway traffic, when my father calls.
“Do we know a Richard Thruster?”
It’s the third time he’s phoned today. During breakfast, he called to report sparks in his oatmeal. (“Pull your spoon out of the bowl before it goes in the microwave, Dad.”) After lunch, he wondered what possessed his television to change channels by itself. (“Your dog is lonely without Mom there. Don’t let him chew on the remote.”)
This time he says, “This Thruster fellow keeps sending me computer mail. First he was pushing pills for some very embarrassing medical concerns, now he’s got some god-awful pumping thing he says will turn my trouser mouse into a python. It’s unnerving what this guy knows about me.”
I’ve slowed to 50, tailgating a driver who’s taking the speed limit literally. With the phone to my ear I don’t see the pickup truck, sitting high and angry, that’s barreled up behind me on the right. It bellows a blast of horn when I cut into its lane.
“It’s not a real guy, Dad. It’s like Prince Albert in a can, someone’s idea of a joke. Tomorrow it’ll be Woody Cox, or Ida Banger.”
“Both friends of your mother’s, no doubt.” He wheezes a defeated sigh. I picture his breath filling the room like mustard gas, a toxic cloud that would send my mother fleeing if she hadn’t already left. “Day and night that woman sat at this computer, typing to total strangers in those chatting rooms. The things she must have told them about this wilting old body, this stone-age brain of mine. No wonder these morons keep mocking me with their phony ads.”
I realize this call might take some time. I dig in my jacket for the hands-free earpiece and tap it into place. It’s then that I notice the pickup truck has swung wide and rumbled up alongside me. The driver, a skinny kid who looks barely old enough to reach the gas pedal, has mistaken the finger on my earpiece for a rude gesture. He grins and makes a slow slicing motion across his neck with a greasy thumb.
“I’m not proud of what I did with that hammer,” my father continues. “I figured a couple of whacks to the computer box and your mother would return her attention to me. But she liked her distractions. That retired electrician she brought home was no gentleman, with all his salacious talk about slots and hard disks. She ate it up, and I caught her glancing sidelong at my trousers every time he mentioned ‘micro soft’. The guy wrote a number on the back of his card. The next day your mother was gone.”
The pickup truck races into the lane in front of me now, barreling forward and spitting black exhaust at my windshield.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that. Listen, Dad, I’m in traffic, I’ve got to go.”
“Well, mister big shot corporate guy who can’t make time for his father, throw me a bone. Explain how I’m supposed to survive now. I walked to the market for a few things today, they asked for my club card, debit or credit, paper or plastic. How the hell do I know? Your mother took care of everything.”
The pickup truck brakes in front of me, accelerates, brakes again. The driver wags his skinny middle finger in the cab window.
“I’ll call you, Dad. There’s a tunnel ahead. I’ve got to go.”
“Whatever. I’ll be here in my dark hole, beating on this stupid computer with these useless remote controllers and this silly folding phone. This junk was supposed to bring us together, now I’m lonelier than ever…”
The freeway drops down into the throat of the tunnel. The driver of the pickup truck brakes hard, knowing I’ll swerve sharply to avoid him as he barrels away laughing. My father’s voice crackles in my earpiece while I growl a stream of obscenities that must sound to him like the clamorings of some primitive beast waiting just outside his door.
Greg Likins is a mild-mannered public librarian who resides somewhere near Nampa, Idaho. He refuses to own a cell phone.
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30 Responses to “CAVEDWELLER 2.0 • by Greg Likins”
Comments
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June 2nd, 2008 at 4:44 am
Excellently written and probably funny, but I don’t understand my latest software, I’m facing my first cell phone purchase, and I’m not happy. Perhaps you’ve caught the zeitgeist, if I know what that means. But really, an excellent story.
June 2nd, 2008 at 5:23 am
Agreed. Touched a nerve with me and my own aged parent.
June 2nd, 2008 at 5:30 am
Lots of empathy in your story, definitely touches the reader. Good read!
June 2nd, 2008 at 5:56 am
Good one!
June 2nd, 2008 at 6:57 am
Enjoyed this a lot. Well done!
June 2nd, 2008 at 7:25 am
Funny! I really enjoyed it.
June 2nd, 2008 at 8:06 am
I love the way you really told two intertwining stories here and each shed light on the other.
June 2nd, 2008 at 8:10 am
Felt sorry for the old guy. Good story.
June 2nd, 2008 at 8:34 am
I love this story. I think it works well on all levels. I like the humor, the topicality (for those of us with aging parents and there are sooo many of us now), how much info you got into such a limited amount of words, the relationship, the characters. They are all pitch perfect.
The only thing that worries me about this story is the title. I almost didn’t read it because the title did not give me the right idea about what the story is about. I know you mention dark hole near the end (a very nice set-up and pay-off despite my comment here) and of course it’s about technology. BUT the word “Cavedweller” threw me off. First there’s a book with that name. The 2.0 made me wonder if you were referencing that book, doing some riff on it. Then the spelling. I studied it looking for hidden meaning. It distracted me and made me think Sci-fi or fantasy which I like a lot but I was already thrown and felt reluctant to take the time. So I did what I always do and read the comments first.
Then I HAD to read it because everyone loves it and I am so glad I did.
I offer this comment not as a criticism but rather as an observation from a reader who almost skipped over your excellent piece.
June 2nd, 2008 at 9:28 am
Stupid newfangled computers. If I stop by the library can I pick up the first 10 seasons of 60 Minutes on Betamax?
June 2nd, 2008 at 10:18 am
Great combination of humor and pathos. Very contemporary, enjoyable reading.
June 2nd, 2008 at 10:22 am
This is very funny, Greg. I like what it says about technology and relationships. Good job making the protag sort of a jerk.
I’m more empathetic toward the old dude even though I’m “supposed” to be with the protag–being not an aging parent, but a hip, modern one. He’s right about so much while being all wrong about it. “This junk was supposed to bring us together…” Exactly.
I like it a lot and I’m giving you a lot of stars and it’s not just because I used to reside somewhere near Nampa, too.
June 2nd, 2008 at 10:52 am
This is one of my all time favorite EDF stories. I like the real-time tense and the pace of it — I was careening down the freeway with you. It was funny and grouchy, and touching too. Sparks in the oatmeal — I loved that. I’m not going to study it too hard. I’ll just read it a few more times and then read it out loud to the old guy (the other aging parent in our house). Maybe I’ll send it to my son. (But I didn’t get the title either.)
June 2nd, 2008 at 11:50 am
Great story, Greg. I feel your protag’s frustration. Love the intertwined storyline.
June 2nd, 2008 at 2:01 pm
Title is confusing…but who cares
A previous commenter made a true comment…i really was in that car…and i was kinda with the old guy too. Anyhow…im tired so i’ll keep it short.
It’s good…i enjoyed it, it served its purpose.
June 2nd, 2008 at 2:41 pm
My Mom, even after copious amounts of training, still calls my voice mail and asks me to “pick up” if I am home. She will sit quietly staring at the tv for hours too proud to call me to come over and “fix” her “broken tv” that she she merely hit INPUT and sent into aux mode. She doesn’t get the “InterWeb” and prefers to pour through the yellow pages for phone listings.
You nailed it. You hit it to the cheap seats. Nicely done for a guy with no cell phone.
June 2nd, 2008 at 6:51 pm
Nicely done, Greg. This was the first story of yours I’ve read, and I liked it. Made me laugh. I’m too young to have aging parents, but working in a public library, I can totally relate. Very evocative scene in such few words.
I agree with others about the title, though. I think it’s the wrong image, because the dad hasn’t foresworn technology; (after all, he’s using a computer to check email); he’s just frustrated that his former prowess (technological, sexual, etc.) has been rendered feeble by new technologies he can’t master. Maybe the image should be of a rusting old car; perhaps the pickup could serve as a nice segue between the two worlds–representing the dad’s faded glory but still besting the son’s technological ascendancy.
June 3rd, 2008 at 4:12 am
I wasn’t going to add another comment until I saw the ones questioning the title. I had a long drive yesterday and plenty of time to think, and your story had stayed with me so I thought about the title. this is what I came up with.
Obviously, the father is living in the “new dark ages,” unable to cope. The son plunges into the dark tunnel, signifying the “dark ages” that come to all of us as we age. But the kicker was the skinny-butt dump truck driver — an obvious Neanderthal!
We’re all living in the cave. Since I have to get a cell phone, I’m going to get that one for old people that has the big, backlit numbers that we can see without our bifocals on. No young whippersnapper blackBerry thumbwriters are gonna keep ME down!
Great story.
Bonnie!
June 4th, 2008 at 7:43 pm
Great story, Greg – really hits the nail on the head. It sort of incorporates a lot of the everyday items that we deal with and mostly ignore, showing that we, indeed, are a product of our environment.
I think we all know someone like the dad.
Keep writing.
June 5th, 2008 at 12:12 pm
Great subject matter,Greg,and fine story-telling…put me right there in the driver’s seat.And,believe me,I could relate because I’ve had jack-asses like that slam on the brakes in front of me because of their vindictiveness.Also,I used to receive similar calls from my 93-year-old dad after my mom died a few years earlier.When’s the novel coming out?
June 6th, 2008 at 1:23 pm
Greg,
You’ve managed to integrate several issues and themes into two interwoven stories, and you have done so seamlessly. There is the universal issue of aging parents ‘lost’ in a sea of technology, the alienation caused by technology, and the idea that no matter how advanced this same technology becomes, we will always have primitive instincts (the truck driver).
I loved the use of language and the symbolism; the tunnel as the cave, the hammer as ‘club’ revolting against the ‘machine’ (PC).
Great work! Let us see more!
Spike Taterman
June 6th, 2008 at 4:28 pm
Thank you all for your comments and encouragement. This is my first online publication, and the experience has been really positive. I hope to read more stories from each of you, and maybe submit here again! –Greg
June 7th, 2008 at 6:54 am
That was a great story. The others have said it all. Reading it was like watching a film in my mind.
Jennifer
June 7th, 2008 at 3:30 pm
hey hey,
Short & sweet, I don’t think it matters how techno savey we think we are. The next gen will always think us old guys will never understand the latest gadgets that make them cool. Because if we did we might be cool too. Well, that just can’t happen. You’re Father couldn’t drive the microwave just like the punk thought your son couldn’t drive at all.
I loved this story. You conveyed the real tension a lot of us feel when we try to discuss, not just new tech, but relationships with anyone twenty years older.
Thanks for sharing.
June 9th, 2008 at 5:17 pm
WOW! The most amazing story I’ve ever read! It was so REAL!
June 10th, 2008 at 4:40 pm
Excellent writing, Greg. I was there in the seat next to him wondering what evil maneuver the driver in the truck was going to attempt. Seattle road-ragers are just as awful.
I find the naivete of the father a stretch to believe, but certainly not his ignorance of and frustration with technology. What will technology be like when we’re that age??
Thank you for sharing your gift of writing with us all.
June 11th, 2008 at 8:17 pm
I was really caught up in it but really don’t think the oldsters are that far behind,esp. once they get their cells and computers. Then you can’t get them off. I too thought it was going to be sci-fi by the title and am glad it wasn’t as I don’t like sci-fi. It made me smile, frown, and laugh out loud. Anthing that can do that when I am alone in a room has got to be good. I found myself looking for the end of the story because I couldn’t believe that was all there was. Surely there will be a sequel!! Ha!!
June 16th, 2008 at 6:46 am
You have really honed your writing craft in this story well. The opening phone call and observation is a terrific hook. It painted the immediate situation. And it was one I drawn to follow.
The stark/impersonal cell-phone techno-connection between a confused father and confused son worked very well to keep the story clipping along. Father and son communicate on parallel paths but widely separated in their emotional worlds, son still seeking his father’s approval and dad seeking his son’s understanding.
Psycho-babble aside… This was fun stuff as the son blasts down the freeway, thwarted by other’s clueless and overt life path intrusions. I think Rod Serling would have been proud. Nice work!
Best,
Bob
October 10th, 2008 at 1:53 pm
hey Greg, this defines FLASH fiction,
An injection of a story, i know a lot about these people, but then i keep looking over the whole story, that fits on my screen…. yep, there it is, the beginning & the end…but there’s so much floating around my head…did the last person plug the toilet, now everything’s coming up?….
-yours…
January 15th, 2009 at 10:21 am
Love, love, love the third paragraph. Deftly crafted. Excellent character and relationship development. Very truthful. Maybe it will inspire me to write in complete sentences…