Sadie was drinking peppermint tea downstairs with Mrs Zimmerman (who explained chamomile was for after dark) and being quizzed about how her cats was doing.

“They aren’t really cats,” Sadie murmured, balancing her cup on her saucer and taking in the apartment.

It was like a museum, one entire wall was shelved and packed with paper books. It was strange to think about people leafing through them. Different people? Did Mrs Zimmerman worry about germs on the pages? Well, they were old, the germs would be dead, but still, so many people might have handled them.

“Do you want to borrow one?” Mrs Zimmerman followed her gaze.

Sadie wasn’t really sure how she’d read a paper book. Should she wear gloves?

“Oh I forget, books spread disease to you young people. These are fine you know, I’ve had them a long time. They won’t hurt you.”

Wow she was even getting kind of psychic. Sadie moved closer to the books, Mrs Z was right they wouldn’t hurt her.

“Mrs Z you seem a lot better today.”

“That’s how dementia works honey. Some days are better than others and then eventually the good days become hours and then you’re lost completely. Finished your tea?”

Mrs Z took her cup and trundled it into the kitchen where Sadie could here her post it in the old fashioned dishwasher. There was lots of extra work when you didn’t use standardized pieces but Sadie had liked the ritual of the tea. She kept studying the shelves. Books on coding, books of poetry, books on AI and robotics, books for assembling food yourself, and books on dementia. She pulled that last book out from the shelf. Living with Dementia. Someone had left scraps of paper between some of the pages.

“Mrs Z, your grandson offered me a job to take care of you. But I don’t know anything about dementia.”

“That’s what doctors are for kid. Now, have you ever heard of Playstation?” The older women bounced back in the room and sat on her couch. She patted the seat next to her, feeling under the couch for two of those old hand held game devices.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Helper, lower screen and initiate Zero Dawn.” A large screen unfurled in front of the book case and snicked into place to form a wide white wall. This was why she hadn’t seen the books last night.

The lights in the room dimmed and images began to play on the screen.

A pre-immersion game platform? Interesting. Sadie sat down and took up a preset side character. Mrs Z might have forgotten a lot of things but she had complete mastery of the old fashioned game. She played an archer who stormed around a world populated by dino-robot creatures. Sadie jogged after Mrs Z and tried not to get in the way.

“Pause game!” Mrs Z sighed and sat back on the cushions of her couch. She looked tired. Sadie was exhilarated from watching the old game, but the older woman was deflated.

“How about I make you a snack?” Sadie asked, getting up.

“Thank you dear,” Mrs Z replied, staring now at her wall of books as the screen retracted.

“What would you like?” Sadie called from the kitchen. There was no answer so she popped her head back into the other room to find Mrs Z standing, a puzzled look on her face, then one of irritation.

“I. Can’t think of the word. For the food I want.”

“Well I hope the word is ‘sandwich’ Gamer Girl because that’s the sort of cuisine I know how to assemble.”

In a strange way Sadie was relieved to see Mrs Z having a memory lapse, she’d started to think last night was an aberration that a good night’s sleep and meds could control. But she was sad too, she liked the woman she’d met this morning, a woman who had a playful side and who was independent and happy. She didn’t like seeing her confused.

She smeared protein spread on some good smelling bread and added some fresh green stuff she didn’t know the name of but looked healthy. Mrs Z had quality food deliveries.

But Mrs Z was asleep when she brought the food back. She looked small and fragile curled up among the cushions. Sadie tucked a rug over her and picked up the paper book about dementia. It might be useless last century information but there was a chapter on how to talk to people with dementia and how outdated could that be? Her stomach rumbled.

“You can eat that if you like,” said Mrs Z, “you hold books weird.”

“Oh, you’re awake! I made that for you,” Sadie pushed the plate toward her charge.

“I might be demented but I like my fruit cake without Marmite and lettuce.”

“Crap. Well okay I’ll try it then, even if it’s wrong.”

Sadie took a bite.

“Hmm. Nothing can prepare you for this Marmite stuff. How are you feeling now?”

“Good enough to make my own lunch, have a proper nap, and then go upstairs to meet your cats.”

“They’re not actually cats you know.”