by Alex Drozd
“But I don’t want to replace her photo,” Brenda said.
Cliff stepped forward to help. They tweaked the settings on the panel, looking for some alternative.
“Stu,” Brian roared. “Program this thing to do what we want.”
“I haven’t started yet,” Stuart said.
“Start now,” he said. Brenda’s sniffling turned into light sobs. Brian turned to her, “I’m sorry, it’s not the time for jokes.”
“I just want to put up the picture, but I don’t want to not be able to see her,” Brenda began to cry.
“Hey, hey,” Brian held her.
Cliff hung his head, hiding his face for a few moments. Then he looked at the panel. After surfing through the settings again, he said, “We can set it to rotate.”
Brenda sniffled and looked over. “Back and forth between her photo and my picture?”
“Yeah. They could each get twenty seconds.”
“That sounds good,” Brenda said.
Once they had all the imagery in place, Cliff began reading a letter he had written for Emma. It was the plan for both Cliff and Brenda to read something aloud for their sister. This was the part Stuart had really been dreading. It wasn’t like Emma could hear what they were saying.
“Hey, Emma,” Cliff began. “Brenda and all of them are here. Jody’s with me, too. We miss you. We wish you were here.” Yes, Stuart thought. You wish she was here with you at her memorial. “It’s been almost a year since the funeral. I’m still waiting to get used to this, you know. Jody is, too. I think of you every day and every night. And I want to thank you, Emma. I want to thank you for giving me all those good memories to think about.”
Brenda had begun crying again. Brian held her, rocking her side to side. Cliff wiped a tear away from his eye. Jody just looked at his feet.
“You can go whenever you’re ready,” Cliff said to his sister, the live one. He put his hand on her shoulder. “That’s all I had.”
“Thank you, Cliff,” Brenda sniffled. “That was really nice.” Yes, Stuart thought. And short.
While she prepared herself, Stuart felt himself sink into the ground. He didn’t want to hear his mother like this. He didn’t want to know her. She was part of his life because of circumstance, and he didn’t want to lose even more of his dignity by truly knowing someone like that. He didn’t want to hear her as an individual, one who existed outside of him, whose mind entertained thoughts not relating to him.
He looked at the picture his mother had drawn for her sister. It was a painting of two little girls watching a sunset. They were holding hands, one noticeably shorter than the other, like Brenda had been to Emma. While it was no masterpiece, it was a good piece of work. Though he was tired of seeing his mother’s paintings, he had to admit she wasn’t terrible. For a moment, he felt happy for her. She would have a good job waiting for her back on Janus.
Brenda cleared her throat. “I’m ready.”
“Go ahead, honey,” Brian said.
“Go ahead,” Cliff echoed.
Sniffling again, Brenda began reading her letter. “Hi, Emma. It’s your sister, Brenda.” Stuart almost rolled his eyes. “I have so much to tell you about. Stuart just finished basic. He’s going into programming for his advanced education. He’s starting his Rank Zero if you remember me telling you about all that.
“Jody has grown up too. It almost makes me cry to see Stuart and him stand next to each other. I remember the day Stuart was born. It was the only time you and Cliff ever came to Janus. Thank you for that. It meant a lot. But I remember you holding him and saying you’d have to have your own soon so that he’d have someone to play with.” Brenda choked on a sob, but she went on. “I remember coming to Earth when Jody was born. Stuart was so excited to have a little cousin. It’s unreal seeing them, Em. It must have been the feeling Mom and Dad had when they saw us grow up together. It had to be.
“I miss you, Em. I miss my sister and my best friend. Life’s not the same without you.”
At that, Brenda burst into sobs, the loudest ones yet. Cliff and Brian clamored over to her, comforting her like a child. Stuart shook his head. Why come here if she was just going to get too sad and cry? He wished his mother would grow up.
Jody stood a few feet away from them, facing the picture of his mother, his arms crossed and a serious look on his face. He looked deep in thought. The image then rotated to Brenda’s painting.
“I really like the picture you drew, Aunt Brenda,” Jody said.
“Oh, thank you,” Brenda said.
At that moment, they heard someone walking towards them. Stuart turned around to see the guide from earlier approaching. There was a weird look on his face; Stuart couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a prolonged wince.
“Hey, guys,” the guide said. “So, there’s been a little mix up. Turns out, the ashes are at 4110, not 4111.”
“What?” Brian chided.
“Our system has had trouble lately accounting for empty slots. 4098 is empty and the computer registered it funny. It shifted her picture and the data over by one. I’m going to shift it back, I just wanted to tell you before I did so.”
The whole family was speechless. In fact, the only sound was Brian’s labored breathing. But soon, Brenda’s sniffles broke into the medium.
“These aren’t my sister’s ashes?” Brenda whimpered, looking at the bag she and Cliff had just spoken to.
“No, sorry,” the guide shrugged. “Anyways, ready for me to change it over?”
“Sure,” Brian and Cliff muttered.
“All right, then. Sorry about that,” the guide said, turning around. “We’re sorry for your loss.”
Seeing the looks of pure shock on his family’s faces, Stuart had to resist the urge to laugh. What did it matter that they’d visited the wrong memorial? Read those letters aloud to the wrong ashes? They hadn’t known until the guide had said something. And if he hadn’t, they would have walked out of the MemoryBank perfectly content, the illusion of a memorial serving the exact same purpose an authentic one would have—just as long as it wasn’t discovered that it was in fact an illusion.
This isn’t for Emma, Stuart thought. This is for them. Those who mourn are mourning their grief, not the victim. Her ashes can’t hear us, can’t sense us, can’t appreciate that we’ve come here—but we can, and that’s why we did it. The value of this memorial, this symbol, it’s all in their heads. It only holds meaning as long as they say it does. They could have put this symbol anywhere they wanted, really, but instead they put it somewhere that comes with a fee.
“This is ridiculous,” Cliff muttered once the guide was gone.
“You need to sue this place,” Brian growled.
“Oh, I just might.”
“Stu,” Brian said turning to his son. “That’s a coding error, isn’t it?”
“Probably,” Stuart said.
“Don’t you ever do such poor work as that—Janus needs better.”
“I won’t,” Stuart said. He sighed, wishing his father would quit acknowledging his decided Zero. Brian must have taken a big pride in his son following up on his suggestion, when really Stuart went with it because it was the only suggestion he could remember getting. No one else cared enough to talk to him about his Ranks. It being his father’s particular suggestion had nothing to do with it.
“It’s all right, I guess,” Brenda sniffled. “She’s only a few feet over.”
Stuart thought that was the most sensible thing his mother had ever said.
They walked over to Emma’s real memorial, one that still displayed another person’s face. The visage was that of an elderly woman’s. That fact made it seem more fitting that her picture was in the MemoryBank. Stuart felt a twinge of sympathy for his mother. Emma had been young, far younger than the woman displayed on her memorial’s VidScreen.
Finally, the image swapped over. The panel and the screen beeped to acknowledge the change. Stuart looked down at the bag of his aunt’s ashes, the re
al one, supposedly. Before he could stop himself, Stuart asked, “How do we know those are really hers?”
There was a groan from the men. Brian pushed Stuart by the shoulder, frowning at the boy.
“Oh, don’t put that in my head,” Brenda said shaking.
“They could’ve gotten them mixed up. Do they even have that bag identified?” Stuart said.
“Stu, stop,” Brian boomed. “Now, that’s not funny. All right, let’s get back to paying our respects. Boys,” he pointed at Jody and Stuart. “How about you to go outside and let us finish up here?”
“Oh, don’t send them away,” Brenda said.
“Don’t you want to talk to Emma by ourselves?” Cliff asked.
She paused and looked over at the boys. “All right,” she said. “But you two give me a hug first.”
Stuart and Jody stepped up to hug the watery-eyed woman. She patted each one of them, kissing the sides of their heads.
“Thank you for coming, guys,” she sniffled.
Stuart and Jody walked out of the MemoryBank a few minutes later. They scaled down its steps, coming into the strip of buildings surrounding the courtyard. There were a few things nearby a bit more interesting than the MemoryBank. Jody started walking off to the left, leaving Stuart behind.
“Hey,” Stuart called to his cousin.
Jody twisted around and came to a stop. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
“Some place less boring than this.”
“I have to come with you.”
“I’d like it better if you didn’t.”
“I have to stay with you.”
“They didn’t say anything like that. Dad can call me if he needs me.” Jody tapped his PortScreen.
“Well,” Stuart said.
“Leave me alone,” Jody said. He turned to walk away again. Stuart let him go.
He stood there by himself, hearing an echo of conversation in the distance. There were a few other groups of people around, but not too many. Stuart was glad. He went to sit on a bench. It was a chrome-steel piece, situated where the grass and the city’s surface met in the courtyard.
After sitting down, Stuart looked up at the sky, shaking his head at how bright it was. A baby blue hanging over the whole world. It was almost too much for him to take seriously, like it was the sky on a VidScreen program for toddlers. When he saw it, it made him feel like everyone in the whole world was dressed up like clowns, but not saying anything about it.
He spotted a few clouds. They had those on Janus sometimes—in terraforming the planet they had added more moisture to the atmosphere, among other things.
“Stuart,” someone said.
He paused, and then looked to his left.
A man had sat down next to him. He was a scrawny figure, a thin man. Like the opposite of my dad, Stuart thought to himself. He felt relief.
“Stuart,” the thin man said.
“Yes?”
“I need to speak with you.”
“What about?”
“Have you seen your friend Dwayne recently?”
At that Stuart turned to glare at the man. He was suspicious again. What did this fellow want?
“Who are you?” Stuart asked.
“I’m a friend of Dwayne’s.”
“He passed away. You know that, right?”
There was no change of expression on the thin man’s face.
“How do you know who I am?” Stuart asked.
“I was a friend of Dwayne’s, like I said. Now, I mean it, have you seen him recently?”
“Not since he died, no,” Stuart said. He began to regard the stranger with premonition.
“I’m aware he passed away, but I’ve heard you’ve been seeing things. So you haven’t seen him?”
Stuart’s face turned cold. “Are you a friend of Cliff or Jody? Please leave me alone.”
“No, listen, Stuart. I need you to listen to me. If you do see Dwayne, stay away from him. Stay away from anybody you’re seeing that you shouldn’t be.” The thin man said this quickly. He glanced from left to right after doing so.
Deep at the bottom of a pit of apprehension, Stuart tried to find the next thing to say, but it didn’t come to him. Had the stranger just hinted at him seeing Alissa? How could he have possibly known about that? Stuart hadn’t said a word to anybody. This man must be a hallucination, too, he realized. But why did he act like he didn’t want anybody to hear him but me? That’s something a real person would do, although, I could just be hallucinating that as well.
“How do you know Dwayne?” Stuart asked softly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“There’s something funny going on with Dwayne, and I need to let you know about it. If you see him, be careful.”
“What in the world are you talking about? Either go away or explain.”
“Stuart,” the thin man chided. He leaned in closer. “What do you know about Dwayne’s passing, huh?”
“He climbed to the top of the education building and jumped off,” Stuart said in a sardonic tone.
“Do you know that?”
“Huh?”
“Do you know that he jumped off?”
“What do you mean? That’s what happened.”
“Think back. Tell me what you know, actually know.”
“We got to school that day, and he was acting mopey.”
“The drugs weren’t as fun as you thought they’d be, huh?”
Stuart wanted to scream.
“How do you know about that?”
“Go on.”
“Who the hell are you?” He had said this in a pleading tone, not an intimidating one.
“I asked you about Dwayne.”
“And I asked who the hell you are,” Stuart said. He went to shove the stranger away, but the man hopped off the bench, dodging Stuart’s hands. He took a step back.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Answer me.”
“Look, I can’t. Can you please just tell me about Dwayne?”
“I don’t see why I should talk to you.” Stuart turned away from the stranger. The thin man’s eyes followed his movements. Patiently, he stood there, waiting for Stuart to stop shunning him.
Panicked thoughts flew through Stuart’s head. This man was most likely some image, some glitch like Alissa, really just something off balance in his head. He was mentally ill. The doctors had missed it because the only symptom he had shown them was a common one. But he wouldn’t be able to hide it forever. If he kept seeing these people, he was going to lose his mind again.
“Stuart, you need to talk to me,” the thin man said. “I’m trying to help you. Now, I know Dwayne’s dead. Of course. But I’m asking, do you know that he jumped off that building? Something funny is going on, and I’m just warning you that you might see him soon. If you do, stay away, all right?”
“I—I guess,” Stuart stuttered.
“I’d talk more but your family is coming. I have to go,” the thin man said. He left swiftly.
Tears began to fill Stuart’s eyes. He didn’t want it to happen again, the glitch to flare up, and he didn’t want to have to talk to a psychiatrist about it if it did happen. He wished these people would just go away, the ones no one could see but him. He was sure the thin man had been pretending. No one had seen Alissa. Except for the last time he saw her, he had even been able to talk to her in the presence of others without them overhearing.
Drying his eyes with his shirt sleeve, Stuart collected himself. He had to hide his condition, or they would think he was afraid of going back to Janus and he would have another episode if he got on a ship. They would never let him leave this awful planet with its baby blue sky. He couldn’t let them know he was going crazy. He’d just have to keep ignoring Alissa, the thin man, or anybody else who came along.
Even Dwayne.
13
It was the night before the Fergessons were to depart for Janus. They and the Novaks had eaten a large dinner earlier, a proper
send off, and were now too full to do anything but sit around. The trip would soon be over. They would all miss each other, so they said.
Brian sat on the couch in Cliff’s living room watching the VidScreen, his wife asleep on his shoulder. It was getting late. Cliff sat on a chair a few feet away, and Stuart was in the dining room. Separated only by a partial wall, he could hear everything they were saying.
“Change the program,” Cliff grumbled at his brother-in-law. The VidScreen was playing music.
“Why?” Brian asked.
“They’re playing that synthetic music stuff,” Cliff went on. “It’s not art. If Brenda was awake, she’d tell you that.”
“It sounds all right to me.”
“Because you don’t know what real music sounds like. Everything they play now is made by those computer programs. You know, there was a time when you actually had to make the music on the computer yourself—tell the computer what notes to play. Now, the computer just picks the notes itself and writes the song for you.”
“It’s faster that way.”
“And it doesn’t sound as good. When people write albums now, it’s really just them hitting the compose button over and over until the computer writes a song they like, and then they put it on the album. That’s not art.”
“Then why can’t I tell the difference?”
“Because you don’t care about art.”
“I think I do. I spend a lot of time looking at Brenda’s stuff.”
“Well, be careful, one day they’ll have computers make the paintings, too.”
“Still, that’s got to take some talent to write the program that writes the music.”
“But the program’s already been written, though. Like I said, musicians now are just people who sit there and pick the songs they like as the computer spits them out.”
“Well, I don’t have time to distinguish between whether a human or computer wrote something. Too busy with work.” Brian frowned. “Ugh, I’m not looking forward to going back to the routine. This trip was too short.”
“You made sure everything’s packed?” Cliff asked.
“Of course I did,” Brian said a little too loudly. Brenda stirred. Chagrined, Brian said at a lower volume, “And you got all your stuff, Stu?”