Howard
November 2217
Omicron2 Eridani
We walked out of the movie theater, arm in arm. Bridget looked as gorgeous as always. She turned and whispered in my ear, and as usual, my brain turned to mush.
“You look very dignified, Howard. But you really didn’t have to do that.”
I shrugged. Modifying the android’s appearance was a trivial operation. Avoiding a situation that might make Bridget uncomfortable was top priority. My apparent age now matched hers perfectly.
Changing the subject, I said, “That wasn’t bad. There might be a future in this movie theater fad.”
“Yes, civilization has finally reached Vulcan. Next up—discos.”
“No, please, no.”
There wasn’t exactly a booming movie industry, of course. Vulcan was very much a frontier planet, and the economy was still bootstrapping through the basic requirents. We’d be another couple of decades before leisure activities beca a major market segnt.
But Hollywood, and its various satellite locations and spiritual brethren, had produced thousands of movies of varying quality and popularity. And generally speaking, the holders of the copyrights were many light-years away, and almost certainly quite dead as well. Soone in Landing eventually had the bright idea to open a local theater and play thed double-bills. It was brilliant, as far as I was concerned. And the general population, who had spent most of their previous lives in isolated, claustrophobic enclaves, were taking to the new dium with enthusiasm.
Today’s fare, a couple of zombie movies, had been sold out. The audience was loud, opinionated, and mostly sneeringly amused. But no one left early.
I leaned close. “I feel a hankering for brains. Or sushi.”
Bridget laughed and opened her mouth to respond, but at that mont her phone buzzed. Two seconds later, I received an email. From the coroner’s office.
I read the email in my heads-up display, and stopped dead in my tracks. Bridget looked up from her phone, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Howard, no…”
* * *
“He left this note for you,” Dr. Onagi said. He pushed an envelope across the desk to . Numbly, feeling like soone else was in control, I picked up the note and opened it. I held it so that Bridget could see.
Howard;
I recently had occasion to visit the doctor, as I’ve been having issues with my mory and cognition. The news was less than pleasing. It would seem that I have a particularly nasty form of neurological degenerative dentia, one that is not curable. The doctor informs that the process is already significantly advanced.
I’ve contacted a few experts, and I was assured that this issue cannot be corrected in software. Under the circumstances, I don’t see becoming a cognitively impaired replicant as an attractive option.
My one remaining freedom is the ability to choose the manner of my passing.
Howard, you’ve been a good friend over the years. Please don’t think less of for my decision.
Sincerely,
George Butterworth (Colonel, USE, ret’d.)
Bridget cried silently, tears running down her cheeks. I stared at Dr. Onagi, numb. “How…”
“A neurotoxin. Painless, and quick.”
“Could he still be scanned?”
Dr. Onagi shook his head. “Even if it was dically possible, he had revoked consent.”
I nodded and stood up. “Thank you, Dr. Onagi.”
Bridget dried her eyes, stood, and followed out of the office.
* * *
We still hadn’t built the capability to cry into Manny the android. Too bad—I would have liked the release. Again. It might be ti to bump up the priority on adding the capability, although it would be better if I just had fewer reasons to need it. Р𝘢Νօ𝔟Ɛ𐌔
We sat on Bridget’s couch, arms wrapped around each other. Bridget had cried herself out. I would catch up as soon as she went to bed and I could return to VR.
“People keep leaving,” I finally said into the silence. Bridget looked up at and I t her eyes. “I know it’s normal. Your parents die, grandparents, people who’ve been around all your life. Eventually, you die, and that’s that. But when you’re immortal, you’re always on the receiving end. It’s just one hit after another.”
“But you et new people,” Bridget said.
“And eventually, they leave. After a while, I think you’d get gun-shy.” I smiled at Bridget, a wan smile at best. “I’m less standoffish than most Bobs, as a rule. But in this case, I think the others have the right of it. This gulf exists between immortals and what the Bobs are starting to refer to as epherals, for a reason.”
Bridget searched my face. “Do you think of as an epheral?”
“I think you’re the most important thing in the universe. And that’s the problem. Eventually, you’ll die, and I’ll be alone, again.” I sighed and stood. “I’m sorry, Bridget. I’m being a real Dickie Downer, tonight. I think I should leave and let you get so sleep.”
Bridget grabbed my arm. “Please don’t. Just stay with , here. I don’t want to be alone.”
Without a word, I sat back down, and put my arms around her again. She put her head on my shoulder and sighed. We sat there quietly, not moving or talking. At so point, I realized that she’d fallen asleep. And that was fine, too.
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