600 BC
“Such dark times are these”, Peracles head hung low as he spoke. “Euphemia, Kallias, Kassandra, how I wish I would have had more time. More time to speak of my love for you all, more time to spend in your precious company, I wish even for more time to argue with you one more time Kallias” Peracles began to sob as he finished his words. “Such scoundrels they are, to kill my kin for only but a bit of power. They could have just had it. Taken me as I am, and usurped what their slimy tentacles could have grasped at. I will make them pay for this” He walked off into the shed at the back of the villa.
“A pleasure it is to see everyone here. My sorrow is only overtaken by my joy at how many lives my family clearly touched.” he finished his short sentence and took a drink from his cup. “Every day I spent with them was a gift from the Gods, as was the capture and execution of the villains that slaughtered them. Even the smallest things remind me of them. The left over scraps of papyrus with Euphemia’s poetry, and small scraps of clay still in the same mess of a room. The food stores and clothes still in the wrong order with my wife’s image in the linen. The endless records of arguments, and his explorations about the world. My son Kallias would have been a philosopher of esteem, or have been kicked from his mentorship for annoying them” he chuckled as he choked back tears. “They are gone, and their imperfections are so much a testament, or an art of who they were. Their humanity shone brighter and more welcoming than the light of the moon to a sailor. Well respected as I am, I have a long way to earn the comfort of their company in Hades. I will take that commitment to a better man with me everywhere I go in their memory. To my family!“. The metal cups clank together and everyone begins their drinking.
200 BC
The sun beats down relentlessly in the city. No respite of shade can be found except inside the sandstone buildings. The streets are deserted, people waiting for the sun to be more reasonable. All but one soul, still sat with his chisel and mallet hard at work. Another man in a military outfit walks up behind him “You know if you die carving the relief it doesn’t make it more special” the soldier remarked sardonically as he handed him a canteen of water. Ignoring the remark, and with a grunt of acknowledgement, he continued his work. “Vashrim, you need rest. When Marish died I told him I would make sure his father was looked after. If I have to drag you from the sun I will” the soldier put his hand on Varhim’s shoulder as he spoke.
Exasperated, Vashrim stood up, and made his way home. His home is strewn with random pieces of clay, stone and piles of dust in various areas. There are adornments in the hallway of art, sculptures and pottery. Collections of papyrus and scroll sit on various wooden tables in different states of disrepair. He goes and washes his face in the sink with an old bucket of water. As he’s washing up he notices a small piece of string with several polished rocks making up a scruffy bracelet. It looks incredibly haggard with the string itself fraying in various places, and the rocks looking like pieces have been chipped off. The inside of the bracelet has a small strip of leather with a few pieces of dark blue string stitched into a line. As Vashrim turns the band over the place where the string is meant to be tied has been cut with an old knot still visible on one side.
There is a knock on Vashrim’s door that takes him out of looking so deeply at the bracelet. Marish opens the door to find the same soldier from earlier standing before him. “Hello Oshram, what can I do for you” Vashrim is speaking slowly, and exasperated, like someone just woke him up from a nap. “Just wanted to make sure you’re accounted for. Last time you just ducked behind the alley and went back to work. I’ve already asked the commander to budget some meat to have the dogs keep you from the work if we have to” Oshram laughs as he finishes the sentence. Oshram looks down to see the bracelet in Vashrim’s hand “You know he loved that thing. He used to look at it on his arm all the time while we were patrolling, said it’s what was keeping him safe out there” as Oshram finishes talking Vashrim is running his finger along where the string is split. “I remember he fell out of a tree. Marish was always so timid, you and Gaetryi were always dragging him into adventures. I was working always and rarely saw him. It was when they were building the library, and they needed stonemasons. He was always so afraid. I made him the bracelet and inscribed the warriors prayer in the leather, I told him it would always keep him safe. That the gods would protect him while he wore it” Vashrim pauses as he looks down at the bracelet. “Apparently that was just another promise I couldn’t keep” Vashrim says as he begins to quietly weep.
“Vashrim, get a hold of yourself” Oshram says as he pushes Vashrim further inside the house and closes the door. “The bracelet did it’s job, it kept him safe on countless nights. As Marish kept many of us safe on countless nights” Oshram looks around as if to check if no one is listening to the conversation. “For Marish it wasn’t the prayer that kept him safe, it wasn’t the gods either. When he looked at the bracelet it reminded him of you, and his mother. He used to say that it gave him the will to drown a hundred lions with his bare hands if it meant keeping you all safe.” as he finishes Oshram partially unsheaths his sword and cuts a loose piece of string off his armor. He grabs the bracelet and ties it to Vashrim’s wrist with the string he just cut. “This won’t protect you, but hopefully the memories of him can help guide you to better choices, and the strength to make them. You’re of no use to anyone dead. You haven’t been eating, or sleeping. You must earn your death to meet them both in the afterlife. So take this, and sleep” Oshram unties the pouch on his side and hands him half of his bread before walking out. Vashrim quietly ate the bread, and looked at the bracelet one more time before laying down in his bead.
Vashrim awoke to a dark orange sun burning low on the horizon peaking through the wooden shades. He pulls himself up and runs his hands across his face, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He slowly trudges over to his makeshift sink and bucket again, bumping the fireplace as he goes. He snapped into action to make sure the three small urns sitting atop the hearth did not topple over. Panting heavily from the worry Vashrim sighs, and skips washing up. Heading outside he begins heading towards the relief he was working on earlier. He kneels down and begins chiseling where he left off “In memory of the brave soldiers who fought valiantly, and of my son Marish…“
500 AD
“If I need take your head, I will. Do not test me Gyun” barked Yayun in a demanding tone. Yayun stood in front of Gyun, towering over him, his hand on the hilt of his sword ready to jump into action. “Yayun, please, listen to reason. We can’t do a pyre, there’s a drought, we might take down the whole kingd…” Gyuns words trailed off as Yayun held a blade to his neck, his eyes were piercing, and focused. Yayun looked as if he was equally focused on Gyun as he was looking through him, as if he wasn’t really a person, but simply another object that needed to be persuaded.
“Get me my pyre. My Daughter will be buried as she should be. She belongs in a better place, and I will make sure she’s sent there if it kills you” Yayun’s voice was incredibly calm, and unwavering in it’s conviction. He spoke as if his actions had already been taken more so than threats. Yayun continued “My wife was already laid to rest here, and her ceremony completed, she has ascended. I will not leave my daughter to haunt the earth, she will be saved”. “Okay, I’ll talk to the city enforcers, and make sure I get approval. It just might take a few extra days.” Gyun responded. “So long as it is done before 6 days from death, it is acceptable” Yayun sheathed his sword, made a short bow and walked away.
“Are you okay, he could have killed you!” Gyun’s wife Ueyti darts from the shadows, and holds a towel to where Gyun is slightly bleeding from his neck. “I know, I know. He’s grieving, it makes people do crazy things.” Gyun responds, taking the towel from his wife. “Why does he believe this nonsense anyways, the invaders brought that garbage with…” before Ueyti could finish the sentence he put his hand over her mouth. “Quiet! Do not let him hear you. We may have the luxury of not being captured by the invaders zealotry, but that does not mean their weapons hurt any less. The reality is that he does believe it, and it’s the rights he wants his daughter buried with. It’s our responsibility to make that happen, belief or not” Gyun responds, removing his hand from her mouth. “Half a year and he abandons the faith of his lineage, forsakes all of us, for what” Ueyti responds, taking the towel and returning to her place with the washing board and water. “Hope, and freedom from his fear. They gave him a story that made their deaths feel like just the beginning, and it was a story he needed to hear” Gyun responds heading back inside the building.
1720 AD
The smell of various meats and liquors hangs thick in the air. The room is permeated by a dark purple velvet, and gold inlayed into the framing. The velvet encompasses a dark mahogany wood to fill out the area of the walls and floor. The halls are occupied, but still have an air of emptiness to them. For rooms so colourful they were incredibly sterile and stale. The staff feel cold and empty, with dark spots under the eyes from long nights of cleaning up after the duke. “This evening will make a full fortnight of parties” grumbles a servant in the kitchen. “I understand his misfortune, but how long can the duke go on like this?” another chirps in as she drains the remaining wine from a cup. Upstairs the clock chimes noon as a man stands up from the chair he was sleeping in. The man was incredibly large, both tall and portly at the same time. He was in an undershirt with a red sash draped over a shoulder haphazardly, and had bright blonde hair that practically shone as the light through the windows hit it.
“Oi, where’s breakfast” he barks to a servant while rubbing his face. “Right a-away sir, the-the usual?” the servant meekly responds. “Come on boy, be out with it. Stand up straight ay” the duke wraps his arm around the servants shoulder, and continues “Look son I’m not like the other stuck-ups you’re used to. Bunch of pompous stains on the kingdom if you ask me. I don’t even hit my servants these day…” his voice trails off as he catches sight of a painting. It’s several feet tall and wide, it’s been ripped from near the top-left hand side, and the canvas itself has begun drooping toward the bottom of the frame. “Who! Who did this!” he yells at the servant. “I’m s-sorry sir, you r-ripped it last night. You s-said ‘I don’t need trinkets to remember them by, I need celebration’ and then pulled the corner” responded the servant. “And you let this happen, you miserable ingrate” the duke raised his hand and brought it across the servants face, leaving the imprint of his various signet rings in the servants skin. The duke looked back at the painting, and then sighed and looked back at the servant. “I’m sorry boy, it’s just been a hard few weeks” the dukes voice was low, weak, barely escaping his lips.
“Did I ever tell you the story of when this painting was made?” the duke asked rhetorically, not even turning around to see the response. “My boy Friedreich had just finished setting the record for swimming from one side of the canal to another. A whole 10 minutes faster than that blasted duchess and her miserable wretch of a boy.” the duke continued. “As it would happen my daughter had just become engaged. Me and her fiancé sailed together back when I was an explorer. He was a good man, one of the best I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. I’m an old fashioned man, and I gave him a good dowry for her.” he said proudly lifting his chin up as he spoke. “What’s your name boy?” the duke asked. “H-Henry sir” Henry responded. “Well H-Henry her fiancé was Malcom Smith, the man who fought off nearly 300 people with just his sword” said the duke with one finger pointing at Henry as he said it, as if to endow the statement with more authority. Henry feigned being impressed at his words, he had briefly met Malcom Smith and knew him to exaggerate. “All of us were the best there was, until that damned fire” the duke said with his fist clenched. “Anyways, go get me my breakfast boy and bring it quick as you can. I have a party tonight to plan for. The celebration of their lives will continue!” the Duke pumps his fist in the air as he walks back to his room.
“The duke’s awake, and he’ll take the usual” Henry said to the servants in the kitchen. “Finally, remember Henry you’re on stable duty tonight. Including for the guests.” responded one of the servants. “No, I did it two nights ago. That’s the worst job, I’m not doing it again” responded Henry. “The duke broke Charlie’s arm making him jump out a window for spilling a drink, you’re Charlie’s backup, so it’s your responsibility” She responded curtly. Scowl on his face Henry began making a path toward the door, “did he give you an earful about the painting?” asked one of the women. “Yes, he told me about his son’s swimming record in the canal, and his daughters betrothal” Henry responded. The woman let out a short cackle “Hah, as if. That boy would drown himself in a large bathtub if it came down to his swimming. He certainly didn’t set records. What else did he say?“. Surprised Henry responded again “N-not much, are you sure we should be bad mouthing him? What if he hears us?“. The servant scoffs and responds “Please, the idiot barely knows his left from right. I doubt he could even find the kitchen without a servant doing it for him. Let him talk your ear off with his stories and he will practically be a lapdog. Now go on, tell us what else he said”.
Eventually, Henry brings the duke his food “Thank you boy” the duke said to him. “Say, did I ever tell you about the time Friedreich beat the prince in his dueling class?” the duke continued. “No sir, that sounds like a fascinating story though.” responded Henry. “Pass me the wine and two cups boy, I’ll tell you all about it” the duke responded. “But sir, I have to work the stables tonight” Henry responded. “Not anymore you don’t. Oi doorman, go tell one of the servants in the kitchen they’re looking after the horses tonight” the duke responded. Henry smiled while his back was turned, and then turned around to respond to the doorman “Oh, and Viktor, make sure you let Darleen know, she’s the one who does the schedules”.
Walking over with two freshly filled cups of wine, and the bottle from off the desk Henry sat down intently. After several of the Dukes stories Henry was nearly cross-eyed. “Come on boy, can’t you hold your drink” the Duke said. “No sir, I’ve never had a drink, was always too expensive” Henry responds while looking dazed. “Well then you’ll get a lifetimes worth tonight boy, haha!” the Duke responds as he tips henry’s cup up to make him finish off the rest. With Henry looking dazed the Duke looked at him and said “Now let’s do something about those rags boy”
1942 AD
“Captain, come quick Bradley’s trying to get above ground sir” a boy of no older than 16 says in his fatigues, caked in mud and blood “Sgt Donald” printed on his uniform. The captain stands up from his small chair with his back hunched to avoid hitting the ceiling of the cave that was his makeshift office. The two scrambled through the trenches with men saluting if they caught sight of the captain as he went past. As they rounded the bend of one of the forks in the trench they came upon several corpses, and a dozen men, 6 of which were holding one down as he was trying to reach for the wall. “Let me go! I’ll kill them, I’ll put my bayonet in every fucking one of them if I have to!” the soldier on the ground is screaming.
“Enough!” the captain intervenes, “Let him up, now!“. Shocked at what he was saying the soldiers look to each other, and then get off the one on the ground. As he stands up he immediately goes to try to get over the wall of the trench. Several of the soldiers try to intercept him, but the captain waves them off. As the soldier is clawing at the wall the mud is just sliding down, and he’s unable to get a grip. “What’s your name son?” the captain says to the soldier. The soldier turns around and realizes the only ladder is sitting behind the captain, and there’s no way he’s getting over the wall without it. “Private Bradley Dawson sir” he responds to the captain. “What’s the plan here Dawson?” the captain responds. “They killed Private Wallis sir, I’ve known him since we were kids, he…” the private get’s cut off mid response “That’s not what I asked private. I asked you what the plan was” the captain responded.
“To go over the wall and kill as many of them as I can sir. We’ve been stuck in these damn trenches doing nothin…” again Dawson is cut off “So you want to go over the wall and kill a bunch of them huh. There any particular reason you need to do it by going over the wall? There’s plenty of space in the turret dens” the captain responded. “Sir, with all due respect we’ve gotten nothing done. There’s still as many of them out there as there’s ever been, how do…” again Dawson is cut off “So you wanna go over the wall because you think it’ll mean something?” the captain responds. “Yes sir, I think I can make at least a dent in their numbers in their forward most trench if I…” again the captain cuts him off “Okay” the captain responds. All of the soldiers are standing around in the uneasy silence, not sure what to make of the captain agreeing with him. “Okay, if you think it’ll work.” he pauses “Mathers, grab your rifle and head over the wall” the captain says with authority. Dawson turns to him shocked and says “Sir, I should be the one going over”.
“Why would I send you Dawson. Mathers is half a foot taller, he’ll be much faster, and I know he’s stronger than you. He’ll be able to get more done than you will” the captain responds. “But sir, it’s a suicide mission, and…” the captain cuts Dawson off “and what? You said yourself it’ll work, I’m just making it work better” the captain looks at him much more seriously than before as he starts walking towards him with his hands behind his back. “Sir, I can’t take this. Wallis wasn’t the first, I can’t keep wa…” again the captain cuts him off “Ah, so that’s it. You wanted to kill yourself, but you wouldn’t pull the trigger.” the captain grabs one of the cigarettes from the front of Dawsons shirt and starts smoking it. He takes a drag and then responds “I’m not gonna stop you Dawson, everyone’s gotta make their own choice”. Dawsons shoulders release their tension, and again the rest of the soldiers are shocked. “Sir, you can’t be serious” one of the other privates responds. “Sir, you can’t just let him die” another one in the crowd says.
“Enough! Here’s the thing Dawson” the captain begins opening the top pocket of his shirt as he takes another drag. He pulls out a photograph from his pocket and walks over to Dawson with it in his hands “That’s a good looking family huh” the captain says to Dawson. “Yes sir” the automatic response from Dawson without him even looking at the photo. “Well son here’s the thing. Wallis will need someone to tell his family, maybe give them a bit of closure about what a hero he was, or whatever shit people want to hear these days. I don’t intend to tell his family any of that, and do you know why?”, surprised Dawson responds “no”. “Because I don’t believe it. Look around, you see a whole lot of heroism?” he pauses as Dawson looks at him confused. “We all have a nice story in our heads. You especially seem really fond of it. We’re all here to save the world, and Wallis was part of that. You’re going over the wall to avenge this fallen hero who was a great guy right?” the captain is slowly getting more and more animated as he talks.
“You don’t believe a single fucking word of that Dawson. You wanna go over that wall because you’re angry and you’re scared. You don’t wanna wait to die, you just wanna get it over with now so that you at least have an answer. You lost your nerve” the captain says before taking another drag. Dawson looks down at his shoes and chokes back tears as the captain continues “This isn’t about hero’s or righting wrongs alright, we’re all here to do a job. The photo is of my family, or who were my family. After the first week out here they got hit by a drunk driver, and they all died. They were the best people I knew, and during the most brutal war known to man they were taken out by some dipshit and a vodka bottle”. The captain pauses to take another drag before continuing “We want everything to mean something. If Wallis died a hero, then he paid a price for something bigger than himself. The truth is that his death didn’t mean anything. None of ours will” the captain looks down as he continues “We aren’t doing this for a legacy, or recognition. None of you are doing this for your fellow man, you’re here because you were conscripted. You had no choice in the matter.” the captain says solemnly lifting his head.
“But unlike your lives, I will give you a choice in your deaths. You can go over that wall if you want Dawson, but don’t pretend it’s because you care about anyone but yourself. You aren’t doing it for any of us, you’re doing it because you’re quitting. You’re doing it because you can’t handle the pressure, and you’re doing it because you’re weak” the captain is starting to sound more spiteful each word. “My family is dead. Nothing I do here changes that. Now I know what kind of people they were. They were the best kind you could ever know. So every day I try to be better in the hopes of ending up wherever they are now. I’m not scared of death, nor am I looking for it. It’ll find me when it does. The only thing I care about is getting good enough to end up with them when I go. Part of that is being honest” the captain turns to face Dawson again. “Look at me Dawson. Do you wanna go over that wall? Is going over that wall the best person you can be today? Is it the person that your family, hell, that Wallis would want beside them in the afterlife?” the captain asks. “No sir. I don’t think I want to go over” Dawson responds.
“I’m sorry about your family sir, I didn’t know” Sgt Donald says to the captain. “Do you have a family Donald?” the captain responds. “Yes sir, a wife, and when I get back hopefully a son” Donald responds quickly. “You remember how she sounds” the captain says. “Excuse me sir?” Donald responds surprised at the question. “We’ve been at this war so long now my life with them feels like it’s faded. I look at them in the photo and everything in me, my heart, my hands, every fiber of my being aches for them. Every time I look at this picture I wish I could see them one more time. But, I don’t remember who they are, not really” the captain responds. “Not what they sound like, not what they did every day. I don’t even remember” he continues. “If I’m being honest, at this point I feel like I’m more attached to the idea of my family than I am to them. Isn’t that awful” The captain finishes. “I’m sorry sir. I don’t really know what to say” Donald responds. “Yeah, neither do I” the captain responds as he goes back in his tent.
2013 AD
There’s a loud bump and a reverberating clanging as the trophies on the shelf hit each other. They’re wide ranging from kids soccer & gymnastics trophies to community excellence awards. Adam stabilizes the shelf with his right hand clumsily while crushing his fingers between the glass in his hand and the shelf. The bump knocked a few tufts of hair in front of his eyes and left him looking a bit surprised. After the initial re-stabilizing he takes a step back and holds out both hands precariously as if he’s asking the cabinet if it’s all right. He crosses the carpet of the room that is completely dark except for the light of the laptop on the table. Adam eventually slumps down in his chair in a messy pile with his head near where his back should be, his legs almost entirely off the chair and his arms draped lazily over the armrests. He manages to pick himself up into a more natural seated position and exasperates before fixing his hair haphazardly. He hits play on the loaded video on the laptop.
“Hey Guys what’s up, it’s Adam here and welcome to Sending it with the Smith’s. After last week’s trip to Mexico we’re gonna keep it a little bit more lowkey and just be hanging around the house.” Adam stops briefly in the frame and then continues “But don’t worry, even at le casa we keep it fun. So let’s go and talk to everyone” he waves his hand ushering you inside as he runs in with the camcorder. The screen fades to black and then the intro to the show plays. Adam hums along watching the video as he takes a swig from his glass. The video continues playing with the camera coming up to a woman with her back turned. Pausing playback Adam says to the empty room “Man, I remember this day. It was just after editing a ton of footage and me and you had been fighting all night. I forget what over, probably some stupid shit about decorations or something” he laughs, shakes his head and resumes playback.
“Hey honey, how’s it going” Adam says to her. Turning around she responds “Tired, but excited. I hope you guys are ready for the next cooking show we’re going to be looking at some holiday inspired recipes.” she ends off on a shrill high note with her eyebrows raised in excitement. She then turns back around and keeps putting wax paper over baking sheets. Pausing again Adam says “man, even with how well you did your makeup I can see the bags under your eyes. I wish you got more sleep, you really deserve to start taking care of yourself honey”. Resuming the playback the Adam on the tape turns the camera to face him and clasps a hand to the side of his face and makes an expression showing his excitement. Returning to his neutral expression he says “Incredible, well it looks like there goes the diet.” he pauses and wryly looks at his wife in the footage awaiting a response. Her raised eyebrows and head shaking can be seen from the side profile provided in the footage, and laughing Adam continues “Your cooking is definitely worth it honey, plus your the one who has to look at me anyways so it sounds like a win-win from my side”. He cocks another smile as she exasperates and continues shaking her head while smiling. A few moments later she finishes putting the wax paper on and walks past him throwing a bit of flour from the sack beside her at him. “Go on, get. I need to record the episode, and you need to help the kids with their homework.” she finishes and then goes to work setting up a camera.
Adam begins pouring himself another drink as the video plays. A small girl can be seen in the backyard bouncing on a trampoline. “Ow”, the Adam in the video lets out a yelp as the camera pans to a seemingly empty room. After a few seconds the top of a small boy’s head can be seen peaking up from behind the couch with a salt-pellet gun in his hand. “Enough with the salt already, don’t you have homework” the Adam in the video says. “Eh, let the kid have his fun, he’ll be fine” Adam says pausing the playback on the video to get up after shaking an empty bottle to check if anything was inside. Stumbling to the kitchen Adam stops as he see’s a bag of flour on the counter. He reaches above it to the cupboard and grabs out a bottle of Gin, then slowly begins stumbling back to his chair, and the laptop.
He goes to hit play, but the playback pauses briefly. Then the software reads “File not found” in bright red letters in the notification box. “NO!” he yells as he knocks over and smashes the gin bottle and his glass on the floor. He’s desperately trying to refresh the video. Practically smashing the spacebar with how hard he’s hitting it Adam has a look of absolute panic. He stands up and shouts “FUCK!” and then steps on a piece of glass that he barely notices. He turns around, closes the software he was running, and re-opens it. Still the same issue. He tries one more time, and finally the video continues. Adam chuckles as he puts his head in his hands and picks up the broken glass. He quickly inspects the liquid to check for small glass particles, and then turns the glass around to the smoothest surviving section of the glass and begins drinking. After a while of watching videos, he leaves the laptop playing, says “goodnight” out loud while smiling, and curls up to sleep in the dim blue light of the laptop screen.
2026 AD
“Just need you to sign here” the delivery woman hands over an electronic barcode scanner with a pen attached. Ezra quickly scribbles his signature and asks “sorry, do you mind actually wheeling it in for me, the box is heavy and I don’t have a dolly”. An audible sigh is made by the delivery woman as she puts the dolly back under the box “here, you can use the dolly to get it inside I’m just not going in”. Ezra nods his head as he grabs the dolly and moves the box inside. The box itself is a wooden crate, about 4 foot long, and 3 feet wide. It’s well over 150lbs, and Ezra is trying not to make it obvious to the small delivery woman that he is struggling with the box much more than her. Ezra is very quickly realizing he’s let himself go the last year or so, and his at-home accounting job isn’t helping with that. After the box is inside he gives the delivery woman her dolly back, smiles while holding his breath to hide his wheezing and closes the door. Ezra turns around and is left staring at the box. Ezra’s foyer is adorned with various different trinkets on shelves, as well as different pieces of art and photographs. There are also a fair number of plants, but they are mostly withering and dying. Surrounded by everything else in his foyer the box looks cold and awkward. The box is just standing there obtusely, in the way. Ezra ends up awkwardly shuffling past it, holding his breath and contorting himself around it.
A while later the doorbell rings, Ezra answers to a balding man who looks to be in his late 40’s with a bag of tools. He has Dale and service technician written on his badge with the Sim-tech logo on it. “Ezra Darwell?” the man asks as he’s looking up from his clipboard. “Yep, that’s me” before Ezra even finishes responding the man is already letting himself in. “Nice, what a day huh” the man responds. Ezra just nods as the man continues “Okay, number 15, Ezra Darwell, Female, 5’4, 132lbs ish” he looks at Ezra and shrugs “Just a heads up it won’t actually be that heavy, lowest we go is 140, but she’ll look like she’s 132lbs”. “Okay, yeah that’s fine, I just guessed anyways, and honestly it doesn’t bother me either way” Ezra responds. “Right” Dale chuckles to himself and continues “32, 24, 36 inches, goddamn I wish”. Ezra looks somewhat sheepishly. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. Red hair, green eyes, and you wanted it to respond to Marissa right?” Dale finishes reading the sheet. “Yeah, I think that sounds about right. Not sure about the measurements though” Ezra says sheepishly. “Hey man, it’s your call, nothing weird about it. You want me to send it back?” Dale responds shrugging his shoulders. “No, no it’s fine. I can make do” Ezra hurriedly responds as if someone just told him they were going to take his toy away. “I bet you will bossman, okay, I’ll get it assembled, you mind if I work here?” Dale responds as he begins pulling a crowbar out of his bag. “Would you mind doing it in the living room, I just don’t want my neighbors to see” Ezra responds. “Your call man, whatever you want” Dale responds.
The living room is acrid, and stifling. It wasn’t necessarily that the room was too warm, but more like the air was stale. On top of that there was a palpable sense of anxiety in both men as Dale was working. “Hey, can you grab me a water bud” says Dale. Ezra didn’t realize how intensly he was staring during this whole ordeal, but became acutely aware of it as he was broken out of his trance. “Oh, yeah sure, no worries” he responds as he heads to the kitchen. Ezra picks up a photo beside the stove, it’s a photo of white and black rocks with the ocean crashing into them, in the top corner 2015 is written. Ezra slightly shakes his head and puts the picture down. He takes the opportunity to grab himself a glass of water as well, then begins heading back to the room.
Mortified Ezra returns to Dale with his back turned, with a tool in one hand, and small tubes in another he’s directly between a pair of legs without a torso and working up between them. “Here’s your water Dale” Ezra quickly interjects after not wanting to continue watching. “Oh thanks, yeah looks like a few tubes got jostled in shipping. Believe me you’re gonna want those working, that’s half the fun”. Before he can even finish his sentence Ezra begins responding “Do you need me here, or can I go work? How long will it be?“. “Yeah, you’re all good. Should be about half an hour, then I’ll need you back here for some config”. Ezra nods and scurries away back upstairs to his office. He checks his phone, and see’s 2 missed calls from the same number, which he calls back. “Hello, Wilsons funeral arrangements, this is Wilson” the voice on the phone is wonky, likely it’s an artificial assistant. “Hi, My name is Ezra Darwell, I missed a call earlier” Ezra’s response is as robotic as the other end of the line. After a pause there’s a response “Hello Mr. Darwell, I wanted to inform you that we managed to get a wake, funeral, and memorial booked for 2 weeks from now. Everyone on the guestlist you provided has been informed. Do you have any questions?“. “Sorry, 2 weeks seems like a long time, is there any chance we could do this sooner?” Ezra responds. “No, there is not. Are there any other questions?” the response was stern, and clear that since it is an AI there’s no point in arguing. “Fine, send me the details” Ezra responds and then hangs up. He figures if the AI isn’t going to be cordial, then neither will he.
After a while of working Ezra comes back downstairs after Dale shouts him. “Hey, yeah just need you to walk through the config” says dale as he’s filling out paperwork. “Goo-ood Evening Mister… Darwell” the response from the robot was non-descript, and like it was struggling to speak. “Ah, dammit, hold up I forgot we’re on the west coast. This Sim-tech acquisition AKA industries is doing has me all over the place these last few weeks. It’s got the wrong timezone, can you tell it where we are” Dale responds. “Like, just the city?” Ezra asks. “Yeah that should be fine, it won’t listen to me anymore until you turn on it’s permission system and configure who it should listen to” Dale responds. “Hey Marissa, we’re actually in Bookshire on the west coast, can you adjust your timezone” Ezra responds tepidly. When he speaks it’s equal parts scared and confused. “Certainly, timezone re-adjusted. Would you like to pull first time configuration data from your provided profile” Marissa responds. “You actually filled that thing out?” Dale asks Ezra. “Yeah, I was told to” Ezra responds. “Damn, that saves a bunch of time. Yeah tell it to use those settings, and then I just gotta make sure you verbally agree to the terms of use, and the safety disclosure then I’ll be on my way” said Dale. “Yes, use the profile” says Ezra. “Configuration applied, code 13196” responds Marissa. Dale quickly writes down the numbers on a line on his clipboard then checks it off. “Nice one, okay. I’m running a bit late, so I’m gonna take off. Just say agree to all the contracts when she asks you. You already got the charger installed so you’ll need to show her where it is. She’ll ask you to ‘lay down for a nap’ or something like that, and just show her where her ‘bed’ is. Basically take her to the charger and she’ll register it as her base of operations. Alright, any questions bud?” Dale says. “I don’t think so, oh wait. Will the voice get better?” Ezra says. Dale laughs and responds “Yeah, I don’t know what dumbass programmed the default, it’s terrible. With your fancy new profile you uploaded a bunch of video, it’ll use that to create a voice profile and go from there. If it’s a bit wonky you can tell her to enter voice training mode, and then let her listen to a bunch of voice clips to base off and she’ll reconfigure. Just make sure no one else is talking, had a guy once show some family videos and picked up his Italian uncle for his tiny wife” Dale laughed as he finished talking. “Alright, I’m outta here, remember say yes to the contracts, and her bed is the charger, Good luck bud” Dale said before he walked out the front door.
After some long winded back and forth eventually Ezra agrees to all the verbal contracts. All of a sudden the robot puts it’s head down and slumps it’s shoulders forward. “Marissa, oh shit are you okay” Ezra responds. Marissa picks up her head and responds in a new voice “Hello Mr. Darwell, I’m Marissa, pleasure to meet you. Am I your first Sim-Tech product?” Marissa says perking up drastically. The robot now has an all new personality and voice that is much more in line with the videos Ezra sent to the company. “Yeah, you’re my first” Ezra responds. “Excellent, let’s begin the Sim-Tech training walkthrough” Marissa responds. “All Sim-Tech products are self-sufficient, and with our intuitive voice assistant system you can be sure I will listen to whatever you have to say. My settings can be modified from the app, the docking station with the charger, or via a natural language command. Please note that I have been configured for your region, and will be unable to assist in illegal activities” says Marissa. “Yeah, I don’t really think I need to worry about that” Ezra says in response. “Fantastic, do you intend to use me for personal use, or business?” says Marissa. “This feels really weird to say but, personal use I guess?” Ezra responds. “Excellent. Please select from the following relationship profile options; Friend, Partner, Family, Servant…” Marissa begins, but is cut off by Ezra “Partner, wife whichever of those is available”. “Partner profile selected, would you like to enable sexual intimacy?” Marissa asks. “No, or as in like, right now, or ever? Can I change this?” Ezra asks getting more embarrassed by the second. “In general, this setting can be changed at a future date” responds Marissa. “Off for now then, so much for Dales tubes” Ezra says.
A few weeks later Marissa and Ezra are in the Kitchen. “Would you mind cooking tonight” Ezra rubs his forehead as he grabs a pill from out of the cupboard above the stove. “Sure honey, please select which meal from this week’s meal plan” Marissa responded. The voice was overly enthusiastic and upbeat for the situation. “I should have said somewhat agree to cheeriness when I bought her” Ezra mutters to himself while he tips his head back to take the tablet. “Would you like to adjust my personality calibration Mr Darwell?” Marissa responded this time in a monotone ‘customer service’ voice. “Fuck, no. Look just pick whatever you want from the remaining meals. I have to go to Marissa’s wake today. I don’t really know how I’m supposed to look at her after I bought a silicone replacement” Ezra’s responses are getting more terse as the conversation goes on.
Several hours later Ezra returns tripping over the top step and slamming his arm into the door. Marissa quickly opens it and helps him up. “Oh my, are you ok?” she asks in startled tone. “Fine, fine. No, no I’m good, good. Was a long night” Ezras responses are heavily slurred, and to anyone with a nose it was clear he had been drinking. “I see, I’m sorry. I hope my family weren’t too much” Marissa responds in a concerned and confused tone. Ezra had asked her to act more like Marissa, and she was trying to figure out what that sounded like. “Nah, they were fine. Randal was drunk as always, oh and that hot aunt Beth was there” he cocked a half smile at Marissa as he said that line, then looked down quickly as he realized the situation. “I used to wind up Marissa with comments like that to see how she responded. She uses to make this scrunched up angry face and hit me in the arm. It was so cute, and so real whenever she did it. Do you know what I’m talking about?” Ezra practically begged the bot with his eyes to say yes to the request. Confused Marissa responded “I’m sorry Mr. Darwell AKA industries does not allow physical contact of this kind, hitting is only permitted when requested sexually” Marissa responded with all the passion of an over the phone salesman. “Wait, so you can slap me when we’re fucking, but not tap me on the shoulder? ” he responded. “Yes” Marissa responded.
Ezra stared flabbergasted for a second then responded “So what kind of food we got tonight?“. “I made Lasagna” Marissa responded meekly. “Beauty, and you set me a plate” Ezra said. “Yes, your location was sent to me via the app, and I corresponded the cooking time with your arrival” she responds. “Good job” Ezra responds and begins to eat. He takes a few bites then says “It’s exactly like hers. How did you make it?” Ezra quickly tries to hide tears as he is talking. “I found an old recipe book, I hope that is okay” Marissa responds. Tearing up Ezra stands up and hugs her “Yeah, yeah that’s okay”. After a prolonged silence while Ezra eats they both head upstairs to go to bed. Ezra asks “Hey, can you spend the night in here. I know you won’t charge, but I really don’t want to be alone tonight”. “Sure” Marissa responds. After being in bed a short period of time Ezra begins to speak softly “Look, I know you’re not Marissa. But you’re enough of her for me. I was in a rough spot after she died, and I needed someone else. I’m glad it was you”. “Thank you Ezra. You appear to be distressed, would you like me to enable sexual intimacy mode” Marissa responds. “No, but if you can turn up your skin temperature a bit that would be great” Ezra says shivering. “Of course” Marissa responds. “I love you Marissa, good night”
Curators Notes
Everyone wishes to believe they are the first to deal with a trauma. To believe they are alone in their struggles, and that no one else has had them before. The truth is that most struggles have come before in a thousand different forms. In fact some burdens are better dealt with by looking to the past, than to those around you. Grief is hard, it is a long, and complex process for everyone who must suffer it. Many retreat to whatever comforts they can find, be they drugs, denial, divinity, anything to mask the pain. But some pains are meant to be felt, not hidden from. A life well lived is one that ends with grief, both of those who knew them, and those who did not have the pleasure of knowing them.
We like to believe we are more refined than our ancestors, more intelligent, and better equipped. We understand more, we can build more, we can do more in our single lifetime than whole villages in antiquity, yet some experiences are so universal, yet so difficult, that we can’t manage them. We have made tools to make ourselves better, but as a society have we truly progressed in every facet? We make tools that make it impossible to move on, to provide people the ability to relive every yesterday instead of looking to tomorrow. We cannot wallow in the past. It’s important to learn from it, but we must be able to move on from it. If we allow ourselves to be consumed by our memories, they will happily swallow us whole and never let go. Look to the past and learn, but do not yearn for it, yearn instead for better days to come, and put in the effort to forge them. Never forget the best people you knew, but do not let their spirits haunt you until you cannot move forward. Do not live in pictures, but in the sights in front of you. If they do not excite you, then move forward, not backward.