At seven o'clock sharp, the videophone buzzes. "Happy birthday, dear mother!" Alena's voice chirps from the speaker. The small plasma screen will only be switched on later, when the service robot has finished its work. At her age, she thinks it's okay to treat yourself to a little peace and quiet in the morning. Her left ring finger has slipped on the control pad in her sleep, so it takes a moment for the darkness to slowly give way to a gently dimmed day. She raises the head of the bed before opening her eyes completely. Keeping them closed would not help her escape this day.

The service robot has been waiting in the corner of her room, and now she hears the soft sound of its wheels rolling across the floor. Sometimes it irritates her that she can hear better than her great-grandchildren, who have not yet had hearing sensors implanted. "Happy birthday, dear employer," chirps the robot. It has now heated the water in its washing arm to 35.3 °C. Finding the right temperature was easier than finding a voice that wouldn't bring back too many memories. She worked on it for a long time, and she is still far from satisfied. The current voice is a stopgap solution, strictly speaking. Someday, when she feels strong and alert enough, she will try to change it again. She would have preferred a male voice, but every single one reminded her of Robert or her two former husbands, whose faces she could no longer remember. She just had to turn the water down a little colder, even though her older son Patrick didn't agree with it; he was always worried about her health. "At your age, dear mother," she remembers one of his favorite sayings, "you have to take it easy." She is now beginning to realize that he is right. Ten or twenty years ago, she would have preferred to live differently, but she is now too old for that. Even her three children are beginning to take it easy in order to save their strength for old age. When was the last time Alena was here? Daniel is always so busy, and Patrick is only thirty-two years younger than her, he shouldn't exert himself so much anymore. But Alena, the baby of the family … It would be nice if she came by again sometime.

While the robot begins washing her in the same order as every morning, she tidies her bed a little more. The window blind control seems to be sticking sometimes lately, even though the home automation system insists otherwise. At least the glass setting still works, even though she is no longer sure if she really wants to look outside when the window is not yet completely transparent. Between the nearest high-rise buildings, she recognizes the morning smog that is common in spring, which blocks her view of the sun. How long has it been now? Two weeks, a month? Summer will come soon, she believes, without allowing herself to doubt it.

"Not so tight," she grumbles as the service robot pulls her wig into the right position.

"I'm sorry, dear employer," the robot replies with a ridiculous little bow.

"It's all right." It seems strange to her to accept an apology from a machine, but sometimes she forgets for a moment that she is not talking to a maid or the nurse who was replaced long ago by the more reliable service bot.

"At 9:30, your son Daniel will call," the machine begins to list today's appointments, "at 9:40, your son Patrick. At 9:45, morning tea and early news, 10:00 meeting with the reporter from WorldNet Today. At 11:00, I will read the birthday e-mails, then you will see the current environmental emergencies on Holovision, followed by lunch at 12:00 …"

She does not listen anymore. When the robot stops talking, she nods absent-mindedly. "All right, everything can be confirmed," she says. The skyscrapers outside her window seem to be gaining definition. It won't be long now before she sees the sun. She yawns quietly. The new medication helps her tolerate the annoying joint pain better, but she feels tired again shortly after waking up. However, the doctor assured her that there would be no side effects; this fatigue will surely subside over time.

When she hears the soft hum of the videophone, she jumps up. Did she actually doze off? The service robot is standing in its usual corner. Her left thumb turns on the monitor before she answers the message. "Happy birthday, dear mother!" Patrick's face smiles at her. "How are you? You look well. See you next year." The monitor automatically switches to standby when the recording ends.

Patrick? She can't quite remember what the robot said earlier. Didn't Daniel want to call first? Could he have forgotten? No, that wouldn't be possible. He must have saved the message on his videophone months ago, and it just wasn't sent due to a technical defect. She has never quite trusted all these devices, even though she is well aware of the advances that have been made in this area since her youth. Perhaps, she wonders, it's because some other things seem to be getting worse and worse. Although, of course, even back then people were constantly dying of cancer or other diseases. And when she thinks back a long way, she also believes she can remember a former friend who hoped in vain to have a child. Reporting has simply become much more comprehensive and accurate, so it's natural to get the impression that everything is getting worse and worse.

The service robot holds the sippy cup to her mouth. The chamomile tea reminds her of her childhood every time. Back then, she hated the smell. But she likes it better than the peppermint tea she tried a while ago. She drinks the chamomile tea in small sips while staring pensively at the holovision. The usual bush fires in Australia and North America, a storm with an unpronounceable name is currently ravaging Brazil. The new volcanic eruption in the Eifel region irritates her much more, as does the brief map of the Netherlands showing the current trouble spots. Sometimes it seems to her as if this country is getting smaller every year, even though she recently heard that only twenty-four percent of its original area is now covered by water. Or was it forty-two?

When she sees the reporter from WorldNet Today pulling his card through the lock and entering the elevator on the house monitor, she decides to ask him about it. He surely knows these things. She estimates him to be just under thirty years old. At that age, she also knew these things more precisely. The door buzzes three times before opening and letting two men in.

"Good morning, dear birthday girl," says the reporter, pointing to the man in the background. "May I introduce my cameraman." The service robot brings two ErgoChairs and two cups of coffee.

"Thank you very much," says the reporter, sniffing the steaming liquid. "You must be really wealthy if you can afford real Spanish coffee," he begins the interview. The cameraman has now set up the digicam. The woman is reminded of an old 2D movie; the camera seems to be permanently attached to the man's right eye, and the fact that his hands almost completely cover the cam keyboard makes the illusion perfect.

"Well, you know," the woman begins.

The reporter nods understandingly. "Your second husband in particular was very successful financially," he explains. "But now to the real reason for our interview: I would like to wish you a happy birthday, also on behalf of the entire WordNet Today team!"

"Thank you," she says. The sun is still nowhere to be seen. Didn't she want to ask this man a question?

"Oh, I envy you," sighs the reporter and winks at the digicam. "Especially when you consider that the average life expectancy has now fallen to fifty-three, one hundred and fifty is a great age!" The cameraman presses one of the applause buttons on the cam keyboard. The reporter winks again at the imaginary audience.

"Well …" she begins.

"It's incredible what modern medicine is capable of," the reporter continues. "It just goes to show that it's worth investing in your health, even if you're not quite as wealthy as you are, dear birthday girl." The cameraman presses the next applause button.

She is not sure what answer the reporter expects from her. "The sun isn't visible at all today," she finally says slowly.

"And now just imagine if you had foregone the new heart and gene therapy and all the other medical amenities, then you wouldn't be able to see the sun anymore!" the reporter picks up on her words. This time, the cameraman only turns on a short round of applause. "And, as well-informed sources have told me, you owe all this to the excellent doctors at the Mary-MediCenter," the reporter continues, "while a service robot from EuRob ensures your well-being in your own home. The bed from Beds-for-Health, which comes with a built-in diagnostic system and, of course, the HomeDialySet, allows you to lie down in a relaxed and healthy position. Isn't that right, dear birthday girl, you could hardly imagine a better life, could you?"

Maybe she should try a different kind of tea tomorrow; she has always hated the smell of chamomile tea. Will the sun even be visible today?

"Oh," sighs the reporter, feigning envy, "you must be perfectly happy!" He nods to his cameraman, who carefully lifts the digital camera from his right eye and loosens the straps at the back of his head with his other hand.

"Actually …" she murmurs. But the microphone has long since been turned off.

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