Letting Go

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  Jaleta Clegg

  Copyright 2010 Jaleta Clegg

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  Table of Contents

  I. Life Preservation

  II. Transfer

  III. Mistakes

  IV. Grief

  V. Acceptance

  I. Life Preservation

  "Welcome to Life Preservation." Mr. Neeling's slick smile didn't touch his eyes.

  Susan shook his hand, minimizing the contact. The whole visit made her squirm. She took the seat he indicated.

  "How may I help you today?" He sat with his knee brushing hers, his expensive silk suit contrasting with her polyester skirt.

  "I'm here about my mother," Susan said.

  "Ah." Mr. Neeling's practiced smile reflected sympathy.

  Susan imagined sharks smiling the same way as they circled for the kill.

  Life Preservation was not what Susan had expected. The whole campus reeked of culture and money, nothing so crass as death and burial. The tea parlor, cozy and elegant, was the last place she expected to discuss death.

  Mr. Neeling retrieved papers from a drawer in a Victorian writing desk. "We have a variety of packages available. The basic is one hour, once a month, in our communal lobby visiting area." He flipped an assessing glance over her clothing. "For you, I would recommend the ultra deluxe package. Unlimited access to your loved one in a private room decorated to your specifications." His smile grew teeth.

  "How much?" Susan clutched the purse resting on her lap.

  "Please, let us not discuss such mundane matters, not yet. Life Preservation is not a funeral home. We preserve life here."

  "How, exactly? I've heard rumors of suspended animation, cryogenics. People frozen like popsicles."

  "Nothing so crude, I assure you." Mr. Neeling leaned forward, a textbook confidentiality booster.

  Susan's fingers clenched on her purse. She had a little money set aside. She hoped to travel, see the world. But this was for her mother. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.

  Mr. Neeling patted her hand. "Your loved one will be alive, preserved forever by our technology. You can talk with them, visit them, just as you would now, except they will never age or die. No sickness, no health issues. Ever."

  "How?"

  Mr. Neeling leaned back in his delicate Queen Anne chair and smiled his shark-tooth smile. "Biometric androidal assimilation."

  "You're going to turn her into a robot?"

  "Please. We are going to imprint her mind on a biometric matrix housed in a construct. I assure you, it will be your mother. Quick and painless for your loved one, eternal life preserved here for you to enjoy."

  "How much?"

  "How can you price your mother's life? You can have her with you practically forever."

  Susan hesitated only a moment longer. Her mother's mind was slipping. She couldn't stand by and watch her fade into senility. "Where do I sign?"

  Mr. Neeling's smile oozed satisfaction.

  II. Transfer

  "Hello? Susan Redding speaking."

  "Ms. Redding? This is Dr. Sandoval at Life Preservation."

  The phone connection crackled, rife with static. Susan frowned and shifted away from her desk. She didn't want her coworkers overhearing personal conversations.

  "Is everything all right? How is my mother?"

  "The transfer to our facility was flawless, as was the procedure. But I regret to inform you that your mother's health was more delicate than we anticipated. I'm sorry."

  "She's gone?"

  "No, never that. She's preserved here, at our facility. You should receive visitation information shortly. I'm sorry, Ms. Redding."

  The connection ended. Susan stared at her phone in shock. Her mother was healthy as a horse, so her doctor said. It was only her mind that was slipping. How could she be gone? Susan took the rest of the day off, claiming a personal emergency.

  A special messenger delivered a letter that afternoon, thick heavy parchment embossed with the Life Preservation logo in gold foil. Her hands trembled as she opened it.

  Dear Ms. Redding,

  We are pleased to inform you that your mother is now available at our facility. Your visiting hours are unlimited. Please use the enclosed key card to access your visitation room.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Neeling, Facilitation Counselor

  She pocketed the key card, then fumbled for her purse and keys. She had to see her mother. She had to know if Life Preservation truly had preserved her mother.

  Her hands shook as she drove to the Life Preservation facility. Her mother was waiting, not the mumbling wreck she'd taken care of the last three months, but a woman, alive, vibrant, intelligent. So what if the body was gone, her mother was preserved thanks to Life Preservation's innovative technology. She parked, then hurried into the elegant lobby of Life Preservation.

  The receptionist smiled, greeting her by name before directing her up a stairway. Susan hurried to room 207. The key card slid into the lock. The light flicked green. Susan pushed the door open.

  The room was an exact replica of her mother's parlor. Imitation sunlight streamed from wallscreens that looked like windows framed in white lace. A woman stood in front of one window, her back to Susan. She was heavyset, her gray hair twisted into a bun. She wore a sturdy dress of medium blue. She turned towards Susan.

  "Mother." Tears trembled in Susan's eyes. Twenty thousand a year was not too much for this miracle.

  The woman cocked her head. "Do I know you?" Her voice was high, thick with an English country accent.

  "I'm your daughter, Susan."

  "So sorry, love, but I don't have children. I've always wanted a daughter someday, but not one named Susan. No, I'd name my daughter something exotic like Miranda or Tatyana or Rhianna. I've always liked Rhianna." The woman turned back to the false window.

  Susan shook her head. "You aren't my mother. There's been a mistake."

  "I keep telling them that but they won't listen. This isn't my beloved County Kent. How is Rafe supposed to find me here? He's a fighter pilot for the RAF, you know. So dashing in his uniform. I can hardly wait until we defeat the Germans and he can come home to me again."

  Susan backed from the room, fleeing to the posh lobby.

  III. Mistakes

  "Please, Ms. Redding, calm down."

  Susan wanted to shove Mr. Neeling's calm, oily voice down his throat. "That is not my mother in there. I don't know who you put in that robot but it wasn't my mother. She thinks she's married to a World War Two British fighter pilot. She wasn't even born then. She didn't know me. You put someone else in that thing."

  "There was no mistake, Ms. Redding. We have reviewed our records. Your mother was transferred successfully."

  "And died."

  "An unfortunate side effect of the procedure."

  "Her doctor said she would live for years. You killed her. I want my money back."

  "I'm sorry, but our policies specify no refunds, for any reason."

  "Then I will sue your company."

  "You signed an agreement with us, Ms. Redding. I'm afraid you have no legal standing."

  "You agreed to preserve my mother!"

  "And we did. We never guaranteed the mental competency of the biometric unit."

  Susan told Mr. Neeling where he could put his biometric assimilation.

  He called security to escort her from the premises.

  IV. Grief

  Every flimsy folding chai
r in the meeting hall was filled. Susan stood behind the podium waiting for the noise to settle. The room stank of stale beer and old cigarettes. She raised one hand for silence.

  "Thank you for coming. You were invited because each of you signed a contract with Life Preservation. Is anyone satisfied with what they got?"

  One woman sobbed. "They took my Robby. He was a good boy and they turned him into a monster."

  "They promised me my wife would be everything she used to be. She had a temper on her and they took that out. That thing isn't my wife."

  "My grandfather tells the same story every time I visit. It's always the same. He never changes."

  The chorus of complaints echoed through the battered room.

  "What are we going to do about it?" A man in the front row asked. "I got a lawyer to review the papers I signed. He said it was airtight."

  Susan had been waiting for someone to ask that question. "We have no legal rights. Life Preservation owns the robots. We can't sue the company. Every time I've tried to go public with my story, they bought off the media."

  "Then why invite us here? To complain and commiserate with each other?"

  "Because I have a plan to take Life Preservation down." Susan stared at the man, willing him to agree, to suspend his wary reluctance. She needed a mob to storm Life Preservation's castle. She had to kill the monsters inside.

  "We're listening." The man folded his arms.

  "You agree those things in there aren't our loved ones?"

  The crowd shuffled in the hard chairs.

  "You agree they are an abomination?" Susan leaned on the podium.

  Another murmur, louder this time.

  "You agree that Mr. Neeling and the rest of them are sick perverts only after your money?"

  "What are you planning? We burn down the building and kill them all?"

  "We aren't the murderers. They are." Susan stepped around the podium, gesturing to the man. "Your wife died right after they transferred her, didn't she?"

  "Yes, but what does that have to do with this? She had terminal cancer. She only had days left."

  "My mother had years. Who else died right after transferring?"

  Hands shot up all over the room.

  "They killed them. And made them into monsters. Just like Frankenstein." She searched the crowd, making eye contact. "I've done some research. It takes a lot of power to keep those things animated. That's why they won't let you take them out of the facility. All we have to do is get them outside. Turn them loose."

  "But then we won't have them anymore." The sobbing woman swiped a tissue over her face. "I won't have my Robby at all anymore."

  "You don't have him now. You have a delusion their drugs induced right before they killed him. My mother's favorite novel was about a British housewife during World War Two. That thing they created thinks she's that woman. It isn't my mother."

  "But at least I have something of Robby. If we destroy that, I'll be losing him again."

  "You'll have real memories of him. Those robots aren't your loved ones."

  "I paid every dime I had to them to give me back my Robby."

  "We all did. And look what we got in return. Nothing."

  "Not entirely nothing. We've got something. Still." The man on the front row hunched in his chair, staring at the floor.

  The mood fizzled. She'd lost them. No angry mob, no end to Life Preservation's abominations.

  "Are you that desperate to hold on? You're willing to take a demented substitute? You're willing to give your love and devotion to a defective robot?"

  Feet shuffled through the room. No one would would meet her eyes.

  "It's better than losing them completely." Robby's mom stumbled from the room, shoulders bent under her grief.

  "Death is part of life," Susan said in the silence that followed.

  "Then why did you pay your money? If you believe that why didn't you let your mother go?"

  "She would have lived for years. She had Alzheimer's. That isn't life. I wanted to keep my mother sane, not see her lose more of herself each day. That's different."

  "Not really. You were just as desperate to keep her, to not let go."

  "It was a mistake. I paid a lot of money and couldn't keep my mother. They lied. Life Preservation sells lies. Those things are not alive. They aren't people."

  "I'm keeping my wife. It isn't her, but it's the best I'm ever going to have." The man walked out. Others followed.

  Susan stood alone in the shabby room. Thousands of dollars for a thing that wouldn't even claim her as her daughter. It wasn't right. It was all she had. She couldn't let go.

  V. Acceptance

  "Hello, Mom. It's Susan."

  "Oh, hello, love. Do I know you? I'm Mrs. Ewing. My husband, Rafe, isn't home. He's off fighting the Germans, you know. He's a fighter pilot for the RAF. So dashing in his uniform."