Dad Character Analysis

What is he so worried about? It's always been the end of the world. What did we have this century? World War I, the influenza, the depression, World War II, concentration camps, the atomic bomb. Now he's scared about a computer glitch? A blackout? Let's go about our business. We'll enjoy our hot chocolate with Baileys. He knows what he's missing and can come in here whenever he likes.

“We are arrogant, stupid, we lack humility in the face of centuries and centuries of time before us. What we call knowledge, what you learn in schools about fossils and dinosaurs, it's all hunches. What we know now is that we didn't think enough. We know we aren't careful enough and that's about all we know. That's what I'm trying to protect us from. […]

In our time, in your time, there will be breakdowns that can't be fixed. There will be more diseases that can't be fixed. Water will be as valuable as oil. And you'll be stuck taking care of a fat generation of useless parents.”

“I'll take care of you when you get old.”

The nurse is forcing cups of antiviral water on everyone. I'm freezing all of a sudden and I motioned for her to turn up the air. Down the aisle, the group is all plugged into their viewers, watching trade data come in from all over the waking planet. I lower my voice, as if it will do any good. I'm sure at least one of them has a monitor on.

“I'm still doing tours, Dad.”

“That's a surprise.”

[…] “I work with the dying, dad. I’m helping people.”

“No explanation needed. Just glad to hear your voice. My surprise is only conceptual, that there are still tours, still sites to see. Still people to pay. But someone always has the money, right? You worked that out a long time ago, didn't you?”

It's not till we're cruising around a curve that I realize he's resting his hand on mine. We're both blistered, raw and, apparently, incensed from our respective prescriptions. For a moment, I can't tell which scarred bit of flesh is mine. This sucks. I look like the rest of them. I disengage our skin. I get out my cover up cream to smooth down the dark orange patches. Dad's going to have some words to say about this. I'll get lectures about parity of treatment. Undoubtedly, he'll reach for something he's ground together from the back of the garden. Or maybe it's simpler now. All he'll do is touch me and I'll be made well.

Suddenly I'm being carried down the steps of the bus, supported at my shoulders and my knees. Outside, I look up into my father's eyes. You've never seen a color like this, like a bucket of summer peas. I relax into it, like my doctor told me to. For a moment, I feel that space she's always talking about, like I'm holding on to this world by a string. I hold it and let it go, hold it and let it go. When I let it go, when I close my eyes, I drift, but when I open them he's looking at me with the sun behind him and I'm holding on.

Everyone supports a different limb so the skin won't tear. We all learn so much about treatment from each other.

I suddenly realized that it's better here with him than anywhere I've been. I want to apologize for my fifteenth year. I'm ready to live like this. I want to tell him that I'm going to stay and take care of him.

He inhales deeply, summoning his powers. His hands come slowly down, working from my forehead to my chin and back again, pressing a current of air tight between us. I see it rushing across my face. Slowly, he lowers his fingertips near my skin till I can feel their heat on my cheeks and then, without a sound, without the slightest incantation, he closes my eyes.

What is he so worried about? It's always been the end of the world. What did we have this century? World War I, the influenza, the depression, World War II, concentration camps, the atomic bomb. Now he's scared about a computer glitch? A blackout? Let's go about our business. We'll enjoy our hot chocolate with Baileys. He knows what he's missing and can come in here whenever he likes.

“We are arrogant, stupid, we lack humility in the face of centuries and centuries of time before us. What we call knowledge, what you learn in schools about fossils and dinosaurs, it's all hunches. What we know now is that we didn't think enough. We know we aren't careful enough and that's about all we know. That's what I'm trying to protect us from. […]

In our time, in your time, there will be breakdowns that can't be fixed. There will be more diseases that can't be fixed. Water will be as valuable as oil. And you'll be stuck taking care of a fat generation of useless parents.”

“I'll take care of you when you get old.”

The nurse is forcing cups of antiviral water on everyone. I'm freezing all of a sudden and I motioned for her to turn up the air. Down the aisle, the group is all plugged into their viewers, watching trade data come in from all over the waking planet. I lower my voice, as if it will do any good. I'm sure at least one of them has a monitor on.

“I'm still doing tours, Dad.”

“That's a surprise.”

[…] “I work with the dying, dad. I’m helping people.”

“No explanation needed. Just glad to hear your voice. My surprise is only conceptual, that there are still tours, still sites to see. Still people to pay. But someone always has the money, right? You worked that out a long time ago, didn't you?”

It's not till we're cruising around a curve that I realize he's resting his hand on mine. We're both blistered, raw and, apparently, incensed from our respective prescriptions. For a moment, I can't tell which scarred bit of flesh is mine. This sucks. I look like the rest of them. I disengage our skin. I get out my cover up cream to smooth down the dark orange patches. Dad's going to have some words to say about this. I'll get lectures about parity of treatment. Undoubtedly, he'll reach for something he's ground together from the back of the garden. Or maybe it's simpler now. All he'll do is touch me and I'll be made well.

Suddenly I'm being carried down the steps of the bus, supported at my shoulders and my knees. Outside, I look up into my father's eyes. You've never seen a color like this, like a bucket of summer peas. I relax into it, like my doctor told me to. For a moment, I feel that space she's always talking about, like I'm holding on to this world by a string. I hold it and let it go, hold it and let it go. When I let it go, when I close my eyes, I drift, but when I open them he's looking at me with the sun behind him and I'm holding on.

Everyone supports a different limb so the skin won't tear. We all learn so much about treatment from each other.

I suddenly realized that it's better here with him than anywhere I've been. I want to apologize for my fifteenth year. I'm ready to live like this. I want to tell him that I'm going to stay and take care of him.

He inhales deeply, summoning his powers. His hands come slowly down, working from my forehead to my chin and back again, pressing a current of air tight between us. I see it rushing across my face. Slowly, he lowers his fingertips near my skin till I can feel their heat on my cheeks and then, without a sound, without the slightest incantation, he closes my eyes.