Bewilderment

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THE BREAKFAST BUFFET THRILLED HIM. He piled up more oat squares, blueberry muffins, and avocado toast than any creature his size should have been able to eat in a day. His lips oozed chocolate hazelnut butter as he talked. Greatest field trip ever. And it hasn’t even started!

We planned to walk on the Mall that morning, before I testified. We talked a bit about what to see. He wanted to return to the Museum of Natural History. To see the plants. Dad? Almost nobody knows this, but plants do pretty much all the work. Everybody else is just a parasite.

“You are correct, sir!”

I mean, eating light? That’s crazy stuff! Better than SF! His face darkened. So why does science fiction think they’re so scary?

Before I could answer, a woman twice my age, short, avian, with eyeglasses like shop goggles, appeared at the end of our booth. “I’m sorry to intrude on your breakfast,” she said, looking at Robin. “But are you… that boy? The one in that beautiful video?”

Before I could ask her what she wanted, he broke into a smile. It’s possible, actually.

The woman stepped back. “I knew it. There’s something about you. You’re really something!”

Everybody’s something, he said. The echo of the viral clip made them both laugh.

She turned to me. “Is he your son? He’s really something.”

“He is.”

She backed away from my curtness, her words a mess of apology and thanks. When she was out of earshot, Robin gaped at me. Geez, Dad. She was being nice. You didn’t have to be mean to her.

I wanted my son back. The one who knew that large bipeds were not to be trusted.