I smiled. “Stage lighting.” I wasn’t about to try to explain Howard and Bridget. Assuming he didn’t already know about them.
He turned and we walked back toward the hospital entrance. I spared a quick glance in his direction. For the first time, I noticed wrinkles forming around his mouth and on his forehead. A few gray hairs, too. With an effort of will, I pulled myself away from that line of thought as Justin filled me in.
“She was at home, and suddenly she held her head, screamed, and collapsed. She was babysitting my kids, and fortunately they knew what to do.” Justin’s eyes were wide and staring as he talked. “The ambulance got there in moments, and brought her here. But I think it was already too late.” He looked at me, tears now in his eyes. “It’s an aneurysm. The doctors say there’s no way she’s going to wake up.”
We arrived at her room, and I took a moment to look around. Very modern equipment, and no overt religious images or icons. Of course, there had been a popular uprising about twenty years ago, something to do with free importing of alcohol, and possibly a scandal or two… Anyway, New Jerusalem was now a proper democracy with separation of church and state. Howard and I had celebrated by scanning a bottle of Irish whiskey and bringing the template into VR.
Well, I was procrastinating, and I knew it. I took a deep breath and walked slowly up to the bed.
I remembered the first time I’d seen Julia Hendricks, on a video call with Minister Cranston. I remembered the stomach-dropping shock as I looked at an almost perfect likeness of my sister, Julia’s several-times-great-grandmother. She still looked like Andrea, like Andrea would have looked had I been alive to see her as a grandmother. I reached down, put my hand against Julia’s cheek. The first time I’d ever touched her.
Well, it seems Howard finally installed tear ducts. Damn.
I wiped my eyes, then turned to Justin. Tears were running freely down his face.
It took several attempts to get my voice to work. “What will you do?”
“She didn’t want to be kept alive if there was no chance…”
I nodded, infinite sadness washing over me. People keep leaving…
“I guess, with the aneurysm, there’s no chance of replication?”
Justin shook his head. “Uncle Will, don’t take this personally, but I don’t think very many people will ever choose replication. It was an experiment designed in a darker, more authoritarian time, when people were seen as just replaceable cogs.” He smiled sadly at me. “And the amount of work you and the other Bobs have put in—well, it looks to the average person like permanent servitude. Who wants to spend their whole afterlife doing chores?”
“Ah, that explains a lot.” I nodded in thought. “Once Howard resurrected the technology, we were kind of expecting an onslaught of requests. We’ve gotten zip.”
“I think you are probably the end of the experiment.”
I said nothing, just looked down at Julia. Maybe just as well.
*
The funeral was held within a few days. I was still borrowing Howard’s android. There was no chance of confusion—Howard had never been on Romulus in android form. These people only knew Will, the many-greats grand-uncle in software. Justin asked me to be a pallbearer, which I gratefully accepted.
Julia had lived a good life, and had many relatives, all of whom knew and loved her. Justin’s eulogy left not a dry eye in the place—including yours truly.
I was the center of attention for most of the reception. Many people wanted to know about my sisters, and about life in the 21st century. No questions about replication, though. Go figure.
Finally, emotionally exhausted, I said my goodbyes and called the cargo drone. I turned and waved to the small crowd that came outside with me, stepped into the cargo drone, and switched off.
*
I popped into Howard’s VR. “Hey, Howard. Manny’s all yours again. He’s flying back from Romulus. Be there in a few hours.”
“Thanks. Funeral go okay?”
I sat and made a spot for Spike. She took the invitation, and began to purr before I even started petting her. Spike was never very good at hard-to-get.
I sighed, and stared into space for a few moments. “No confrontations or anything. Not like you and the kids…” I gave him a quick glare. “I guess that’s kind of settled down?”
“Mmm, yeah, Bridget had words with her offspring. I don’t think Rosie will seek me out to yell at me anymore.”
“You know you’re asking for it, don’t you? Dating a human…”
“It’s not really dating, Will. There’s no sexual component. We enjoy each other’s company. We always have. We get each other.”
I nodded in sympathy. “I know what you mean. But lips will flap.”
Howard laughed. “Screw ’em. I’m happier than I’ve been since, hmm, since before Jenny, actually.”
“Jenny’s long dead, Howard. Eventually, Bridget will be as well.” I shrugged apologetically at Howard’s sharp look. “Sorry, I think the funeral has me a little down. Just a year after we lost the colonel. Ephemerals, indeed.”
“Yeah…” Howard reached over and gave Spike a quick pat. “Immortality sure isn’t all upside.”
I got up and placed Spike on the chair I’d just vacated. “No argument there. I’m going to go home, activate my alcohol receptors, and drown my sorrows. Then, tomorrow, back to the salt mines.”
I waved to Howard, then popped back to my own VR, in Sol system.
Flying Cities
Marcus
February 2215
Poseidon
“I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here.” I turned to sweep my gaze across the assembled invitees. I saw several eye-rolls, some smiles, and a couple of blank faces that said, ‘please let this be over soon’.
Philistines.
“Sorry, I always get a kick out of saying that. In this case, though, it’s appropriate. There’s a project I’ve been actively working on for about fifteen years now. I think you’ll be interested.” I gazed around at my audience, gauging their mood. I noted that several of them were peering back at me with at least as much interest. Very few people had seen me walking around in my android body, as yet.
I’d arranged this meeting on a remote section of the Great Northern Mat, about three miles from the population center of New Malé. Personal flyers sat, parked randomly on the thick vegetation surface. The invitees were a heterogeneous mix of security, administration, and technical people, as well as a few individuals with no credentials at all, except that I liked and trusted them. My friends, whom I’d come to think of as the inner circle, stood off to one side. They’d declared that this was my show, and they would stay out of it.
I tried to suppress a grin, then gave up and let it come. And why not? In effect, I was about to create a new nation.
“Okay, Marcus, this is getting old. Give.” That was Yoshi, a senior infrastructure engineer and one of Kal’s friends from work.