A Voice in the Night

THE LAST DANCE

“Olivia,” I said, “are you really there?” It had been a year and a half since that terrible evening when she’d started home from the hospital where she served as a nurse. She’d gone just two blocks when the tractor-trailer rear-ended her. Left her dead on the scene.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m back. Modern technology is something else, isn’t it, Ethan? It’s good to see you again.”

We were in the den, both on our feet. She was standing in front of her favorite armchair, the electric one that allowed her to lower the back and sleep in it. A photograph from our wedding was mounted on the wall directly behind it, and pictures of our daughter Sarah, my mom, and her parents stood atop a bookcase. Outside, a soft rain fell into the trees. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I knew exactly what was happening, but nevertheless it came as a shock. Behind me, the guy from Celestial Communications asked if she was okay?

“Yes,” I said. “She’s incredible.”

He was short and overweight. I forget his name. He handed me a copy of the contract. “The system will do an ongoing analysis of conditions in the household and will respond accordingly.” He smiled. “You might even come down some morning and find yourself waiting to give you some advice.”

“Myself? You can really do that?”

“Well, it doesn’t happen often. But yes, sometimes it’s necessary. Some people need to hear truth from themselves.” He produced the bill. It was higher than I could really afford, but I’d manage. Having Olivia back was priceless. I looked back at her. She was still watching me. Smiling in that warm, inviting way that I had thought I’d lost forever. “Give me a second, love. I’ll just be a minute.” I sat down at the coffee table and wrote a check.

When I returned to the den, she’d settled into the chair and was sitting with her eyes closed. “I could almost believe you’re her,” I said.

The eyes opened, blue and soft in the light of the single lamp. “I am her, Ethan. I’m Olivia in every way that matters.”

“Except physical.”

“I’m sorry about that. I really am. Not much we can do about it. Not yet anyway. I understand the technology is coming.” It was her voice. And the tenderness it conveyed was all too familiar. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said.

“He was too close behind me. I should have realized. Shouldn’t have tried to stop at the light.”

I wanted to go to her, embrace her, hold onto her. In another time she’d have thrown herself into my arms. Instead we reached out cautiously to each other, until our fingertips would have touched. But they couldn’t. Her physical self was no longer there. Nevertheless, according to Celestial, it was Olivia who sat smiling at me. She had her memories and her personality, her habits and her passions, to the extent they’d been able to extract them from MyPage. And from me. And from whatever other sources had been available. However they’d done it, they’d constructed a perfect replica.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this isn’t easy for you. It isn’t easy for either of us.”

“Olivia, I’ve never been able to accept that you’re gone.”

“I’m not gone, Ethan. I’m here. If you can hold onto that reality, life will become much easier for you.”

“What about Sarah?” The sales people had assured me that accepting the avatar wouldn’t be a problem for our eight-year-old daughter. That she would adjust. It will take some time, they’d said, but she’ll be okay.

“She’ll be fine. You and she are the only things in my life that matter.”

I tried to tell her that I was grateful she was there, but I couldn’t help recalling that final goodbye at the cemetery. I wanted to say something, God knows what, but my voice broke.

She waited while I pulled myself together. Then: “I understand, Ethan. Be aware that I’m an almost perfect match. And if it helps, I love you. As she did.”

“I love you too, Olivia.” I meant it. Somehow. I understood the reality, that I was talking to software. But for the moment, it didn’t matter. We were together again, at home, after nineteen painful months.

“I can feel it,” she said. “I’m anxious to see Sarah again.”

“She’ll be home from school in about a half hour.”

“I know. Ethan, I can’t tell you how it feels to be back with you.”

“Is that really true? Do you actually have feelings?”

“Of course I do.”

I lowered myself onto the sofa and just stared at her. That soft chestnut hair falling to her shoulders, the alluring lips framing her unforgettable smile. My God, I wanted to take her in my arms. And never let go. “I’m just not sure this is a good idea, though. For Sarah. Seeing you again after everything that happened is going to come as a shock.”

“Just leave it to me, Ethan. I’ll handle it. You’ve told her about this, so she knows what’s coming. She’ll be fine.” When family issues got serious, Olivia’s eyes inevitably grew intense. The laser vision that I’d seen before at critical moments showed up again. It had been there the night we’d taken Sarah to the hospital with a hundred and five temperature. And when she decided I was taking the job at the gym primarily so I could ogle some of the clients. And when we got the news that my mother had died. She also had gone too soon, like Olivia the victim of an automobile accident. “That’s the real problem, Ethan, isn’t it? You aren’t buying that I’m actually here, that I love you as she did, that I’m ecstatic to have you and Sarah in my life. You probably don’t even believe I have a life. But I do. And no, we can’t bring the original Olivia back, but if she had known about this technology, she’d have wanted you to do exactly what you’ve done.”

She was wearing the golden slacks she’d had since our earliest days together, and a white cotton blouse that I’d given her at Christmas a few weeks before everything had gone wrong. “So you have no problem with Sarah?” I said.

“None. The research indicates that the vast majority of people who accept the program, especially children, are much better off in the long run.”

“Okay. Let’s hope they’ve got it right.”

“There’s something else I should tell you. It probably hasn’t occurred to you, but I need to see her.” Her voice trembled. “I miss Sarah.”

“How is that possible, Olivia? I mean, you’ve never really seen her.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “I’ve seen her. And I have all the emotions and memories of your wife.”

“Incredible. I almost think you are Olivia.”

“I am.”

“She’ll be so happy to see you again. I’m just worried that—.”

“Leave it in my hands.” She bit her lower lip as she always did when life became difficult. “How are you doing, Ethan?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Stay clear of tractor-trailers.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn’t work and she must have known it before she’d finished. I sat down beside her and waved it away. We talked about old times, about the night I’d called her shortly after we’d met and we’d gone for a walk through Arcadia Park. And about the bikini I’d given her for her birthday that she’d refused to wear. And our first date and how we wished we could return to it and do it again. On that magnificent evening we’d gone downtown to listen to Benjamin Grosvenor play Mozart and Rachmaninoff. “After that night,” she said, “I knew I wouldn’t let you get away.”

I don’t know how she was aware of that. Olivia told me that story at our wedding, and I can’t imagine her having told it to anyone else.

The school bus pulled up. “That’s her now,” I said.

I was waiting at the front door when Sarah came in. She was in third grade, and clearly her mom’s daughter. She had Olivia’s eyes, her soft brown hair, and her relentless energy. She said hello to me, dropped her schoolbag by a footrest where she usually left it, and fell into a chair. “Long day?” I asked.

“Boring.” Sarah was of course accustomed to talking with AI’s. She loved carrying a conversation with Jerry, the house. And she was always telling our car to look out. So I started by explaining that we had another one inside that she could talk with.

Her face brightened. “The one that impersonates Mommy?” She gave me a weak smile, suggesting that she wasn’t buying it.

But when she entered the den and saw Olivia, she screamed and charged across the room into her mother’s arms. “Look out,” said the avatar as her image collapsed.

I got Sarah off the floor and Olivia was back again, bending over the child. “You’re still too quick for me,” she said. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I knew that was coming. You just move too fast.”

“Mommy, is that really you?”

“I’ve taken her place, Sarah. And yes, I’ll be with you the same as she would.”

“Oh, Mom, it’s so good to see you again.” She’d begun to cry and laugh simultaneously.

“I feel the same way, Sarah. I wish I could hug you, but it’s the one area where I’m afraid I can’t make it happen.”

“I understand, Mom.”

“And I want you to know I’ll be here whenever you need me. Whenever you want to talk.”

“But you’re not real, are you? You’re not much different from Jerry, right? Except that I can see you.”

Olivia hesitated. “I love you, Sarah. And I’m real.”

Tears were running down Sarah’s cheeks. She wiped them away, said something I couldn’t make out, turned and left the den. I followed and asked if she was okay.

“Daddy, when you first told me about her, I didn’t think it could actually happen.” She waved me to leave her alone and retreated into her bedroom. Moments later, I heard her TV come on.

I went back to Olivia. She was standing by the sliding glass door that opened into the back yard. There was a glimmer of lightning, and thunder rumbled in the distance. “She okay?” she asked.

“I think you’re going to take a little getting used to.”

“I’m sorry.” She was still looking out at the sky. “This is a tricky business.”

“She doesn’t understand. Or I guess she does. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Give it time. In the end, she’ll be better off.”

“You’re not just saying that to protect Celestial, are you?”

“No, Ethan. I don’t think your wife ever lied to you. And I won’t either.”

Sarah kept her distance after that during those first few weeks. When she walked into a room where Olivia was present, she said hello. Sometimes she went a bit further and added a comment about the weather, or how school was going, but other than that, she remained withdrawn. Olivia asked me to be patient, and explained that it would take time.

For me, the passions of earlier years returned in full force. Olivia was back again and that was what mattered. We could sit quietly and watch the old TV shows that we’d always enjoyed. At night we could walk through the back yard almost hand in hand while we joked about what our neighbors, the Prescotts and Martins, would think if they saw us. I hadn’t informed anyone because I had no idea how the experiment would play out. The important aspect was that it came together and took me to a happier time.

Eventually the people in our lives learned about Olivia. I don’t know whether they saw her, or whether Sarah told them. I asked her not to say anything, but that was a heavy burden to place on a third-grader. No one seemed surprised. The technology had been in the media for weeks. Friends and neighbors wanted to come and say hello to her, although there was often some uneasiness when it actually happened. Everybody wanted to know whether we were being invited onto reality TV shows. Other couples were beginning to appear. They weren’t always husbands and wives. There were parents who replaced lost kids. One guy brought back a long-time friend who’d become a priest and died in one of the Middle Eastern wars. Celebrities who had passed began showing up on TV engaging in old routines.

Olivia had been back about eight weeks when we watched a program in which a divorced mother appeared with a daughter who’d died in a plane crash. “I’m sorry I started it,” the mother said.

“Why?” asked the host.

“Every time I see her, it reminds me of what I’ve lost. It’s terrible. She’s in the house with me. She’s always there. She’s as shattered as I am. I tell you, Art, I’m in more pain now than when it happened.”

“That doesn’t sound so good,” I said when the show ended.

Olivia nodded. “The research indicates the technology should make it easier for people to get through serious losses. But there are exceptions. Parents who lose a child should probably not do this.”

“You speaking now as Olivia? Or as the AI?”

“I’m always Olivia. You can trust me completely.”

“But what happens if things go wrong? How does it end?”

“I don’t know. At some point I guess people simply have to make the decision that it’s not working. That the emotional cost is too high.” She glanced at my mother’s framed photo. “They decide it’s over, I guess. And get on with their lives.” She looked at me and hesitated. “Ethan. You understand I can’t provide everything you need.”

“Of course. I can manage without the physical side of things. All I care about is that I have you back.”

She took a deep breath. “I have a question for you.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anyone else in your life?”

“You mean another woman?”

“What else would I mean? We both know what I’m talking about. And please don’t be worried. It’s perfectly understandable that you’d be spending time with someone. Other than simply hanging out here with me.”

I tried laughing. “You’re a bit hard to replace, love.”

“So we’re clear, Ethan: The thought of sharing you with other women is difficult. I do love you, as your wife did. But you need something more in your life. I’m here to help you get through this, not to keep you locked down. If Olivia were in my position, she’d want you to move on. It’s part of the process.”

I know this sounds crazy, but there was no way I could do that. Maybe it was because I knew that if I started running around, it would confirm that she was gone. That this thing with the software was a fabrication. “No,” I said. “I love you. I don’t want someone else. I would never cheat on you.”

“It wouldn’t be cheating.”

“I know that.”

“Good,” she said. “I think we need to start being honest with each other.”

“What do you mean, Olivia?”

“You probably have the better part of a lifetime left. Do you really want to spend it talking to an illusion?”

“You’re not an illusion.”

“All right, then: software. Call me whatever you like. I’m not a woman.”

“You claim to be Olivia. The ad says you will be her in all the ways that matter.”

“It’s a lie, Ethan.”

That brought a chill. “You’re suggesting I should ask for my money back.”

“You can’t even hold me in your arms.”

“Maybe I need a replacement. Another version.”

“There isn’t any other version.”

“What happens if I call and complain?”

“I don’t know. They’ll probably just decide you don’t fit the program. You’ll get a refund. But probably not another avatar.”

“And what would happen to you?”

“I’d be replaced.”

“Would you become the next avatar?”

“No. I’m Olivia. Always will be.”

We avoided the subject for a few weeks. Then one evening while we were watching a Seinfeld rerun, it surfaced out of nowhere. “Ethan,” she said, “have you thought any more about finding a partner?”

I needed a few seconds. “I haven’t really been looking.”

“You work in a gym. I can’t believe you don’t see a lot of women.”

“I do. But I’m just not looking for anybody. Olivia, please try to understand. If I bring somebody else into this, the setup dies. All right? Give me a break.”

“Ethan, Sarah needs a real mom. And you can’t spend the rest of your life huddled in this den.”

I just sat there looking past her. She froze the TV picture and got out of her chair. She was beautiful. More than that, she was the only woman I’d ever really cared about. There’d been a few that I’d liked along the way, but no one who’d actually taken over my life the way she had. “Olivia, please. Let it go.”

“I can’t. You’re becoming more deeply involved with me. You have to follow the process. Take the first steps toward moving on.”

“I can’t live with that. You want me to start going out with other women. I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.” The truth was that I was attracted to one of the instructors at the gym. If Celestial hadn’t been there, I’d have made a move months before. But Olivia was still my life.

“I understand,” she said. She restarted the TV. We sat quietly watching George trying to pretend he was an architect. When it ended, she asked if I wanted to watch anything else. It was almost eleven.

“No,” I said. “I think I’ll quit for the night.”

“Okay, Ethan.” She got out of her chair. “Before you go in, I have a solution for the problem.” I knew that tone. It was the voice she’d used to inform me shortly after we got married that Bill Harvester, a guy I’d grown up with, had been killed in Afghanistan; that Aunt Susan’s cancer had spread; that my mother had died in an accident. She waited for me to say something. But I just sat there, staring at her. “I’m going to shut myself down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to turn you loose.”

“No. You can’t do that.”

“I’ll let Celestial know. You’ll get a partial refund.”

“When do you intend to do this?”

“Tonight.”

“No. I won’t allow it.”

“It’s not your call.”

“Please, Olivia. I love you. You can’t do this to me.”

“Your wife would want me to. It’s our love for you that drives me. She would not allow you to throw the rest of your life away. Especially not for her sake. Maybe this program should only be run for older clients.

“You lost a good woman, Ethan. She loved you more than you’ll ever know. But the intent here is to help you get through a difficult time, not to lock you into a life of regret. And Sarah would probably be better off with a real mother rather than a fiction. Which is why I have to let you go.”

I got up while she watched. “Please don’t.”

She held out her arms and came toward me. She was on the verge of tears as we embraced. Or tried to. “I love you too much,” she said. “We both do.”

There was a finality in her tone.

“No!” I wanted to hold onto her. Never let her go. “You claim you’re in love with me. Then don’t do this, Olivia. I don’t want to lose you again. Please.” For a moment, I thought I could feel her flesh pressed against me, her arms, her breasts, her damp cheeks. “Okay, I’ll get somebody. Whatever you want. But don’t walk away from me.”

She looked at me for a long moment. “You really are easy to love, Ethan. You won’t have any trouble finding someone.”

“Then you’ll stay?”

“I’m sorry.” She backed away from me, turned, and left the den.

“Where are you going?” I followed her into the living room. But when I got there she was gone. Then a familiar voice spoke to me from the kitchen. “Ethan, are you okay?”

My mom came through the door.