Author: Alastair Millar

“He’s going to be there again,” said Julia.
“Well yeah, it’s the big family occasion, right? Same as every year.” Her companion guided the aircar into the automated traffic lane, handed over to Municipal Control, and turned his seat to face her.
“I don’t want to talk to him, Mike. We don’t connect any more.”
“Aw c’mon Jules, he’s your brother.”
“Half brother. Or used to be. As far as I’m concerned, he’s not part of my life any more.”
“I think that’s a bit harsh, to be honest. You can’t deny the effort he’s put into staying in touch.”
She sighed.
“I know that joining us all is complicated and expensive. And that’s hard to arrange. I get that. I really do. But then once he appears everyone fawns over him like he’s the only one there. We’re all so busy talking to him that we don’t talk to each other; I just feel like it’s pulling us apart.”
“Be fair, it’s not like they think any less of you. They’ve come around to accepting our relationship, haven’t they?”
She nodded, reluctantly. “Yes, they have. And I didn’t think they would.”
“This is no different, really. They know they have to be tolerant, and flexible, and perhaps make allowances, if they want to keep in touch and remain a family. That’s all.”
“Keep in touch? He’s DEAD, Mike! And has been for half a decade! An interactive hologram is not a person!”
“It’s not just a hologram though. It’s a full-scale personality construct, updated monthly with details about major events, and which remembers what it’s told. It might just as well be him.”
“Now you sound like my mother.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not.”
“In this case, not.” She took a breath and stared out of the window for a while.
After a while, Mike spoke again.
“What’s really worrying you, Jules?”
“I just… I don’t want to go through this again. With you, for instance.”
“With me?”
“Yes. Promise me you won’t set up a construct when the time comes? I want to treasure every moment with you now – and if those moments are to mean anything, we have to accept that they’re rare, and precious, and limited.”
He thought for a full minute.
“Julia Jones,” he said formally, “I can see how much this means to you. I promise that when my time comes, I won’t leave a memory construct behind. We’ll make the best of our time together knowing that it’s finite, and therefore more special.”
She exhaled.
“Oh thank you. Thank you, Mike. That means the world to me.”
“For you, anything. You know that.”
She smiled.
“Besides,” he added, “all being well, I’ll remain operational for several decades yet, as long as we keep up the annual maintenance visits.”
And he turned his glowing eyes back to the displays, taking back manual control. His metallic hands gently squeezed the throttle, and he took them down towards her mother’s place, hers to command in all things.