Graffiti Gabe

an excerpt

Gabe squinted as he emerged from his parent’s basement. The kitchen lighting was harsh compared to the underground cave he was forced to call home. He flexed his hand, the fingers stiff from playing video games. Ever since he’d lost his graphic artist job the distinction between day and night was murky. His stomach churned. Unemployment felt like a backed-up drain, threatening eruption at any moment. After four months of parental hovering his twenty-six-year old body suffered acid reflux. He considered searching for a medical trial to obtain free gastric medication.

“What did mom cook for dinner?” he asked, opening the fridge.

“We finished yesterday’s leftovers,” his father replied glancing up from an online chess game. The four-level split home was eerily quiet. Gabe assumed his mom was cocooned in her bedroom and following her crochet class on Zoom. Chess was the one activity his dad committed to on a weekly basis. The family physician had suggested it helped lower blood pressure but Gabe wasn’t convinced. With three family members constantly online the internet membership charges exceeded the grocery bill.

“Were you checking websites for jobs?” his father asked reclining into his favourite chair. “Surely the service industry has openings. Why not get work as a waiter? When I arrived in this country my credentials weren’t recognized. I drove a taxi. Working nights and upgrading my education during the day was difficult but I did it. Your generation doesn’t know hardship. You have your license. Drive a cab.”

“Get real, Dad. It’s 2040. Taxis are driverless.” He grabbed his backpack before wiggling his feet into his Planet-Vegan runners. “Your ten year old car is considered vintage. It’s not my fault I lost my career. I’m a good graphic artist. Artificial intelligence stole my position. And I can’t wait tables. Restaurants are completely self-serve with QR codes and robotic service. If you weren’t such a homebody you’d know these things.” The pandemic of 2019 had turned his parents into couch potatoes who thrived in the dark. “I’m going out. Do not send a drone looking for me!” He tossed the snarky remark certain his dad had zero knowledge on using the home security service.

“There were always jobs if you weren’t afraid of hard work,” said his dad.