‘Oh the youth of today. No respect for their elders. Not like in my day,’ she said, raising her eyebrows.
They made their way into the living room. To Zak, it was like stepping back into a bygone age. Only one wall was covered with video sheet, and it displayed a single static image, of a nativity scene. The other walls were covered with paper, which like the carpet and sofa covers could only show the single pattern originally printed on. Zak balked at the silvery cut-outs that hung from the ceiling, which he recognised as old-fashioned Christmas decorations. But what he found most unsettling was that nothing was moving. If it were not for the ticking of a small analogue clock on the mantelpiece, he would have thought the room was frozen in time.
‘It’s so nice of you all to pay me one last visit,’ said Gran.
‘Oh Mother don’t be like that,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve explained to you why we have to leave Earth. We would love to join you here, but the government won’t allow it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Gran holding her hands up, ‘you’ve got to get on with your own lives, not fret about mine.’
Dad rolled his eyes.
‘You get along quite nicely living on your own,’ he said.
‘Of course, and why shouldn’t I, I’ll be only ninety-five next month.’
Zak noticed Dad biting his lip. His Gran appeared reasonably self-sufficient, but while living to ninety-five wasn’t unusual these days, she had refused rejuvenating drugs. She looked like the oldest person he’d ever seen.
‘Anyway, sit down at the table,’ said Gran, ‘I want us to make the most of our last ever get-together. I have a meal being prepared in the kitchen.’
‘It may not be our last,’ protested Dad, ‘If journey times to Mars continue to shorten, it may be feasible to pop back in a few years.’
‘Oh I won’t last that long for goodness sake,’ said Gran, tutting.
Both Mum and Dad let out a loud sigh.
