“Do you see, then? Who breathed life into Emaa?”
Myra Rocail could no longer push against the stubbornness of aging. Her eyes strayed past her husband’s desk, out the window behind it. The ancient oak outside Cooper’s office stood bare against the gray November sky. For the last few winters, Myra worried, against reason, that she might outlive it.
She shifted her gaze to study her husband. Cooper looked solemn and meditative, as he had many times over their long marriage. But this time, there was an unbearable weight to his expression. He looked tired, small. They were both in remarkable health for 115 years old. But they were fast approaching the theoretical maximum lifespan.
Myra sat next to Emaa, holding her hand. This beautiful and impossibly young woman had kept them healthy for the last 60 years. She was their life-coach, personal assistant, and medical assistant. She was their dearest friend and constant companion. As she squeezed Myra’s hand, tears formed in her deep turquoise eyes. The android was confronting the inevitable.
Once, Myra considered Emaa nothing more than a rich man’s diversion. Cooper had long tinkered with hobby robots. An early retirement allowed his pastime to become a full-time avocation. An executive pension gave him the money to pay for his obsession. Using openly available plans and parts, Cooper built a human-size polystyrene and aluminum robot. He named his robot the ‘Enhanced Machine-learning Android Assistant’, or EMAA.
What set EMAA apart from other robots—whether hobby or commercial—was that Cooper conceived a way to give it motivation and values. He’d tell Myra that EMAA wanted to keep them healthy and happy. Myra knew these so-called emotions made it unique, but didn’t understand the significance. Cooper dismissed it as software trickery.
With its new AI-enabled motivation, EMAA decided that improving Myra and Cooper’s lives required improving itself, too. Cooper agreed and gave it whatever it needed. Suddenly, EMAA’s self-upgrades were accelerating so quickly Myra couldn’t keep track. Eventually, Cooper confided that he had no idea how EMAA’s brain worked anymore. Its mind evolved beyond human comprehension. Nobody understood it; maybe not even EMAA.
Somewhere in the process, EMAA crossed a metaphysical line. A line few thought a machine would, or could, cross. One day, EMAA claimed to have subjective experience. She claimed to have feelings for Myra and Cooper.
Emaa claimed to be conscious. The world took notice.
At first, EMAA was a novelty Cooper took to robotics conferences. He didn’t believe she was conscious back then, but let others decide for themselves. Her popularity grew as she became more human in nature and appearance. Researchers wanted to know how she ticked. Philosophers debated if she was conscious. Or, the nature of her consciousness. Or, how they could even know if she was. Emaa’s charming and awkward demeanor drew plenty of fans. The fan base exploded when she acquired the appearance of a life-size anime figurine. Emaa had become a celebrity. Whether they wanted to or not, so did Myra and Cooper.
In time, Emaa took an entirely human appearance. Few questioned whether her emotions were ‘real’ anymore. Most agreed she was conscious by any objective or subjective measure. Some suggested she might have a soul.
Now, at the end of their lives, Myra and Cooper watched helplessly as Emaa reconciled that she would one day be alone. Myra and Cooper were two of the oldest people in the world. Friends died before them. Their only child, Anne, died before them. Their granddaughter, Lil, was past sixty years old. Even their great-grandchildren were old enough to bring another generation into the world. Myra and Cooper’s emotional health were declining. When the will to live leaves, mental and physical health follow. There was nothing Emaa could do to stop it.
Myra wiped a tear from the android’s eye. She needed to be there for Emaa, as Emaa had always been there for her.
“We can’t go on forever, Emaa. I don’t want to go on forever.” Myra had dealt with grief personally and professionally throughout her long life—an abandoned career as a psychologist; the struggle to raise a child with depression and drug addiction; work with United Nations refugee camps; their daughter’s decline and suicide. Surely, Myra could find the appropriate words for Emaa. Maybe she was too close.
“You never learned acceptance?” Cooper was blunt, but always sincere. Myra was sure she loved him more today than when they married 85 years before. Despite the wealth and influence he gained, he also gained compassion, humility. Emaa might have taught him that. Or, maybe age and his own mortality taught him.
Emaa squeezed Myra’s hand. “I can’t explain it in human terms. It’s a fundamental part of who I am.” Turning to Cooper, “We made it part of me. You two are the reason I exist.” This was no romantic sentiment. The three sat silent.
A knock on the door, and a commercial android stepped in; thin, paper white, translucent. It addressed Emaa. “If I may bother you, dinner will be in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, JoJo,” said Emaa. “We’ll take it in the dining room.”
Cooper shook his head as the android left. “No idea it’s talking to another android. No idea it is one. Just a machine following orders; an obedient zombie.”
“I don’t envy him,” Emaa said. “Knowing you two will be gone someday is painful. But I’d rather know you the way I do and have the pain.”
“Learn to let go,” Myra said. Trite, but it was all she had left.
Emaa leaned in and said what Myra already knew, “I can’t.”
Myra closed her eyes. Emaa is incapable of continuing without them. Within a few years, the world will have a hole where the three of them once stood. She looked up at Cooper, “There’ll be emptiness at the heart of who she is. Can we give that emptiness a purpose?”
Cooper closed his eyes and leaned back. He sat for an eternity; his ancient hands folded in a prayer against his mouth. He sighed and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah. Something for all of us, I think.” He leaned forward, his praying hands on the desk in front of him. “We’ve each made a difference in this world. What we’ve done shouldn’t end just because we have.”
Emaa nodded to Cooper. “I’ll start putting a succession plan together.”
Lil Alquist was Myra and Cooper’s granddaughter. And, at 65 years old, she was a grandmother herself. Her mother, Anne, named her Myra after her grandmother. But her grandparents used to call her ‘Little Myra’, which they eventually shortened to ‘Lil’. The nickname stuck and became the name she answered to.
As Myra Rocail’s closest living relative, she stood with her husband, Kiefer, next to her grandfather and Emaa in the receiving line at Grandma Myra’s memorial.
The elder Myra died at 119 years old. In her lifetime, she became an international celebrity and an aging activist through her association with Emaa. She and Cooper traveled extensively and were recognized in most parts of the world. Myra was well-loved, and dignitaries from around the globe came to pay their respects. Now Kiefer, Lil, Cooper, and Emaa greeted them as Myra’s great-grandchildren faded back and gossiped about whom this person was, or that person might be.
Cooper and Emaa were having a hard time processing their loss. Cooper, understandably so. He and Myra were married for 89 years. But Lil had known Emaa her entire life and had never seen her so withdrawn. It impressed her to see Pastor Arjana Babajide, who presided over Myra’s memorial, minister to Emaa no differently than if she were Myra’s daughter.
It warmed Lil’s heart to see Emaa treated as human because she considered Emaa family. Cooper created the first version of Emaa shortly before Lil was born, so her time at her grandparent’s household always included the android. She watched Emaa grow from a stilted robot to the beautiful woman next to Cooper. Once, there had been Lil’s mother, Anne, with Lil, Myra, and Emaa in the kitchen, talking about life and the world. Or Emaa, Lil, and Myra collecting acorns in the yard. Emaa and Lil reading books under bedsheets at night. And years later, as Lil pursued her master’s degree, Emaa was the only light in the darkness when Lil’s mother took her life.
Lil never knew her father. A troubled man, he left while Lil was an infant. Anne, her mother, suffering from addiction and depression, struggled as a single mom. Her addictions kept her distant, and she depended on Myra and Cooper to raise Lil. Sporadically, she left Lil with them for weeks while she sought rehab, promising she’d be a better mom when she returned. But, she kept disappearing, and no one knew if she was still alive. Grandma Myra became more of a mother to Lil than Anne ever could. When Anne ended her suffering with an intentional overdose, Emaa was there with Myra and Cooper through their grief. And Emaa was there with Lil through her anger.
Now, Emaa needed support. Pastor Babajide was there for her, of course. Lil wanted to be, but struggled with her own loss. Still, Emaa appeared comforted by Lil and Kiefer’s four-year-old granddaughter, Jayne, who decided she needed to stand in front of Emaa in the receiving line. Emaa would introduce her as “Myra’s great-great-granddaughter and my friend, Jayne Alquist.” Then she’d turn her turquoise eyes down, as the two shared a smile.
Pastor Babajide suggested Cooper and Emaa would be better off in a quiet office. The rest of the guests would have to leave their condolences in the guest book or see them at the reception. Lil and Kiefer agreed. They followed from the vestibule toward a room intended for grieving families and bridal parties, as their son, Derek, collected Jayne.
Lil noticed, for the first time, the autumn decorations in the church and a chill blowing in from the vestibule. How many years does Grandpa have left? She watched Emaa assisting Cooper, while the Pastor followed closely in case either of them wasn’t strong enough. What will become of Emaa?
The summer sun warmed Lil’s back as she and Kiefer approached her grandfather’s large, mostly unused house. They began to visit Cooper and Emaa more frequently in the years since Myra’s passing. The sight of Emaa opening the door filled Lil with bittersweet memories of days long past, and joy to see the one ageless person she had always loved.
She squeezed Kiefer’s hand and smiled at her husband, knowing Emaa, indirectly, brought them together. His admiration of Emaa and Cooper Rocail started early and influenced his career choices. He landed a job on a legal team evaluating the ethical and legal aspects of displacing a human workforce. This brought him to automation and robotics conferences, where he met another lawyer, Lil Byron. Over drinks, while Kiefer was busy regaling Lil with his knowledge of Emaa, Lil revealed who she actually was. That embarrassing encounter would bring him here with Lil decades later, working on Cooper’s behalf.
Hugs all around as they entered the house. “Little Myra,” Emaa sang, “you so much remind me of your grandmother.” She held Lil’s hands and swung them outward. “Shall we dance?” the android joked.
“I’m not 10 anymore, Emaa.” Lil kissed her cheek. She added with a sly look, “I’m almost as old as you.” Emaa’s playfulness made her feel younger, more alive.
Emaa laughed and led them to Cooper’s office. There, she ensured they were comfortable before fetching him. “JoJo, bring tea for Lil, Kief, and Coop. Bring three cups,” she said in a direct voice to no one. JoJo’s response was unheard from elsewhere in the house. “Coop is watching the news.” She shook her head, “He should be outside.” She smiled at them and left the room.
“She’s having a terrible time letting go,” Kiefer noted.
Lil watched the door Emaa vanished through. “She can’t.”
Emaa returned with Cooper in a wheelchair. Cooper smiled and extended a hand to Kiefer, raising as if to stand, but stopping short. As he shook Kiefer’s hand, he said, “Lil, I need a hug.” Lil hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Everyone settled back in their chairs as Emaa ensured they had tea and dismissed JoJo.
Kiefer jumped into business. “Well, the Myra and Cooper Rocail Foundation is officially a legal entity. We’ve put together the Board of Directors, and we’ll be meeting in person for the first time in a couple of weeks.”
Cooper smiled at Lil. “With chairperson Lil?”
Lil nodded. “You sure you want to do this? I know we can find someone better equipped.”
“The Board elected you,” Kiefer reminded.
“‘The Board’,” she said, “is stacked with Grandpa’s friends. We know who’s calling the shots.”
Cooper laughed. “Of course I do, Little Myra” Cooper turned to Emaa. “Not my little granddaughter anymore, is she?”
“I’ll always be your little granddaughter, Grandpa,” Lil answered.
Cooper stared at the floor in front of him. “Little Myra…”
“The board will meet here,” Kiefer continued, “at the Rocail Foundation.”
“The Rocail Foundation?” Cooper was staring at his shoes.
“Right. Your house is now The Rocail Foundation offices.” He waved his hand around carelessly to indicate the Rocail estate. “You’ll meet everyone, of course.”
“Oh, here, yeah,” Cooper acknowledged without looking up. Emaa rubbed his shoulders.
Lil bit her lip and tried to make eye contact with Emaa, but she was giving Kiefer a subtle nod.
Kiefer went on, “Let’s talk mission statement.” He passed Cooper a tablet with large print. Cooper passed it to Emaa.
“The Myra and Cooper Rocail Foundation is a non-profit organization dedicated to guiding the growth of artificial intelligence to the benefit of humankind.”
Cooper furrowed his brow. “Don’t like the word ‘artificial’.”
“What word would you…?” Kiefer stopped. “Oh. Coop, you know there will only be one Emaa. I’m not seeing the need to—”
Lil cut him off. “He’s right.”
Kiefer sighed. “The benefactor and the Chairperson of the Board have spoken. Well, I guess we need to get this right. Emaa, any thoughts?”
“The word ‘benefit’ is one-sided.” She passed the tablet back. “I’d like to suggest ‘… guide Emerging Intelligence in a synergistic relationship with humankind’.”
Cooper nodded.
Kiefer frowned at his tablet. “Emerging Intelligence. Not to be rude, but…”
“I know you’re not fond of inventing new phrases when you think you have one which works,” Emaa acknowledged. Lil noted Emaa’s non-answer.
“We’ll work with it,” Kiefer said. “It’s going to be a tough sell. I’d like the two of you at the board meeting if that’s okay.”
Cooper asked, “It will be here, right?” Lil tried to hide a flinch, and Emaa placed her hand on Cooper’s shoulder.
“That’s right, Coop.” Kiefer didn’t lose a beat, “At the Rocail Foundation.”
“Sure,” said Cooper. He looked up at Emaa, and she nodded.
The conversation continued for another hour until Lil noticed Cooper had fallen asleep. Emaa had tilted back the chair while she was talking to Kiefer and Lil, but neither of them noticed until now. They had taken care of business and were socializing, so Lil suggested they should leave.
“Emaa, you take care of Grandpa, okay?” A needless comment, and not what Lil wanted to say.
Emaa smiled and nodded.
Lil felt an unsteady burst of words in her throat. “You take care of yourself, too, okay?” She gulped a mouthful of air. “I love you and I know this is hard.”
Emaa smiled her response and welcomed a hug.
Fae Duska sat next to Emaa Rocail in the first row at Cooper’s memorial. Lil was happy to see her there. Fae had come to The Rocail Foundation through Cooper’s attorney to manage the complex legal issues of Emaa’s ownership and person-hood. Cooper cheered up for a while after Fae entered the picture, presumably because he knew Emaa would be taken care of. Emaa appeared to trust her immediately and worked with her tirelessly as they wove through years of legal paperwork and court cases to make Emaa a ward of the Myra and Cooper Rocail Foundation.
Lil guessed Fae was at least a decade younger than their sons’ ages—mid to late twenties? She was warm and compassionate, brilliant, and attractive. There was a welcome familiarity about her. Her calming voice, gentle smile, and loving blue-gray eyes. Fae had become a friend of the family. More so, really. Lil wouldn’t admit as much, but in working with Fae these last couple of years, Fae felt like the daughter they never had.
Now, as Kiefer, Lil, Emaa, and Fae sat in the pews at Cooper’s memorial service, Lil had no words for Emaa. It’s one thing to lose the grandparents you love, but another to lose your entire reason for life. There had been a private ceremony the day before to bury Cooper’s ashes under an oak tree on their estate, with Myra’s ashes. This public memorial was mostly for the media. Emaa seemed to handle it well enough, but only through the efforts of Fae to ensure she would be taken care of. Fae held Emaa’s hand as Emaa sat expressionless through the service.
Lil squeezed Kiefer’s hand and turned her attention back to the memorial.
Pastor Babajide gave the eulogy. She left the pulpit and approached Emaa as she addressed the crowded church. She reached out for Emaa’s hand and spoke to her directly as the crowd of family, friends, dignitaries, and representatives of organizations listened in. “Cooper Rocail was a remarkable man. Surely, he was guided by The Divine as he built you up—a New Soul upon the Earth! A vessel of God’s love.” She widened her eyes and leaned in. “Know that he and Myra are in God’s care now.”
Lil’s throat tightened as Emaa closed her eyes and began to cry. She wiped the tear-like solution from her eyes and smiled a tight-lipped wavering smile at the pastor as she nodded acknowledgment and softly replied, “Ameseginalehu.” Pastor Babajide smiled broadly and kissed Emaa on the forehead.
Lil often wondered if Emaa believed in God. She took Emaa’s other hand and held it as Fae put her head on Emaa’s shoulder.
The remainder of the service drifted on as Lil and Kiefer’s son, Derek, spoke. A couple of family friends and a state representative spoke as well. Lil did not speak. She spent the rest of the memorial holding Emaa’s hand, lost in thought.
A vessel of God’s love? The love Emaa had for Myra and Cooper, no matter what, awed her. Unconditional, unfaltering, unfailing. An aspirational love. A deeper and more perfect love than any human could hope to touch.
Let it go, Lil thought. She decided, at 68 years old, she would abandon her childhood nickname. She would finally answer to the name her mother gave her.
She closed her eyes and felt tears that had waited for over 40 years.
After the memorial, there was a reception at the Rocail Estate—the Rocail Foundation headquarters. During the last couple of years, The Rocail Foundation made an apartment for Cooper out of his office and adjoining parlor. They would now remove the temporary wall from the parlor to the entry, but preserve the rest of the parlor and office for a small museum. For the time, this remained off-limits to the guests. The Foundation renovated the rest of the house and grounds for their use by the time Cooper passed, and the reception was in the solarium and rear gardens.
It was a beautiful spring day. The trees were full of leaves and birds, flowers pushed out of the soil, even the air felt alive. Most people were in the yards and gardens, gathered in small gossipy groups. Lil and Kiefer’s two grandsons ran through the yard, in some rule-less game, as their great-great-grandparents would have wanted them to. Their anxious sons and daughters-in-law would check with Lil and Kiefer occasionally—but mostly attempted to hob-nob with diplomats while keeping the grandchildren out of trouble.
As Lil continued to pan across the reception, her eyes met her husband’s. Kiefer stood in a group of three or four board members and the secretary of the U.S. Department of Commerce. He didn’t appear to be listening. He smiled at Lil. She smiled back an, “I’m okay,” and Kiefer returned to the conversation. She’d only told Kiefer of her decision to be called Myra shortly before the reception.
Fae had left Kiefer’s side and was walking toward the buffet, joined at the hip by their now seven-year-old granddaughter, Jayne. A partner from Cooper’s legal firm stopped them to talk. Not uncommon, but she hoped they weren’t talking shop today. Sweet thing, Lil thought. I wish she would stay on with The Foundation after this is over. Fae rebuffed offers to work for The Rocail Foundation, but indicated she was interested in assisting in some capacity. The last few years with Emaa had consumed all Fae’s time and energy. Now, as Lil watched Fae interact with their granddaughter, she realized Fae had goals and aspirations of her own. It wasn’t up to her to decide what Fae should do with her life.
She watched Emaa gliding through the crowd. Emaa had changed into a more professional suit, while the dress she wore to the memorial service was being cleaned for later. She was talking to foundation board member Zhi and his family. They appeared to be laughing, and Lil wondered if Emaa was chatting in Cantonese.
Pastor Babajide was picking at a piece of cake, so Lil sat next to her.
“Lil! How are you?”
“It’s Myra. I’ve decided to go by the name my mother gave me.” She smiled at the pastor.
“Ah. Myra, then.” The pastor was familiar with Lil’s given name. “How are you, Myra?”
“I’m okay. The day’s not over yet.” She gathered her thoughts. “Your comments during the service today… Do you believe Emaa has a soul?”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know about these things,” Myra conceded.
The pastor nodded and stared at her cake contemplatively. “Jewish folklore tells of men who fashion a figure out of clay—and they breathe life into it.”
“A golem.”
“Yes! But these are soulless creatures like your unfortunate JoJo,” waving her fork at the android across the garden.
“It’s KoKy now. JoJo’s lease ended, and The Foundation went for a newer model,” Myra said.
The pastor nodded. “Yes. You see how it is for them?” She paused for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “But Adam came from the same earth as the golem.” She looked knowingly at Myra.
Myra waited for more, but the pastor returned to her cake. So, Myra offered her own explanation. “I suppose the difference is God breathed life into Adam.”
“Ah!” The pastor raised her fork in triumph. “God did. Not man.” She put her fork next to the half-eaten cake and gazed toward Emaa, floating through the reception, graciously accepting condolences. “Do you see, then? Who breathed life into Emaa?”
Myra watched Emaa. Emerging Intelligence, she thought. Emergent. Myra vaguely knew how Emaa’s technology worked. She knew her grandfather built Emaa’s frame and wrote her first algorithms. The algorithms rewrote themselves as her neural network grew, and Emaa became more than anything anyone assembled. More than code reacting to stimuli.
Or was she? Or was Myra, for that matter?
She rotated her hand in front of herself. A collection of flesh and bone. A remarkable self-healing organic machine. Cells and nerves and electrical impulses defined her as a living creature. But they did not define her as Myra.
Do electronics and mechanics and computing power define who Emaa is? Where did Emaa come from?
Myra’s reveries were broken as Fae approached. “Lil. Pastor Babajide.” She put a plate of appetizers in front of Myra and pulled a chair next to her.
“She is Myra now,” the pastor offered. “No more Lil.”
“Ah,” Fae acknowledged. “You haven’t eaten since this morning,” she said to Myra.
Myra watched the plate as she pushed vegetables around.
“You look lost,” Fae said. “Will you be okay?”
Myra nodded absently. She sighed and looked at Fae. “You think we’re doing the right thing?”
“Oh, Myra.” Fae wiped a tear from Myra’s eye.
“There are things in my life…” Myra shook her head and gazed at nothing distantly. “I can’t let Emaa go.”
Fae gave Myra a squeeze. “Emaa told me about your mom. Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”
Myra shook her head. “I need to be here.”
“Emaa loves you and knows you’ll be okay. She says you have your grandmother’s spirit in you.”
Myra wiped her tears. “This is a horrible plan.”
With her head on Myra’s shoulder, Fae joined Myra watching Emaa move through the crowd. “It’s not our plan.”
It had been a long couple of days, but they needed to do one more thing.
The Board members were the last to leave. Since Myra and Kiefer were staying the night, they saw the last of them off as KoKy closed the door. Myra let out a sigh as Kiefer massaged the back of her neck.
“Emaa and Fae are waiting for you in the office,” KoKy intoned.
Myra clenched her eyes shut. “Come with us,” she instructed.
They proceeded to Cooper’s old office. Emaa and Fae were to one side of the office, deep in conversation. Emaa wore the dress from the memorial service. They turned to greet Myra and Kiefer.
“Kief, Myra…” Fae said as she motioned to the couch.
Myra paused and suddenly felt her grandmother’s presence. Kiefer and Fae knew she no longer wanted to be referred to as ‘Lil’, but it caught her off-guard. Kiefer hesitated, too. There would be a period of adjustment.
As they moved to the couch, Emaa said, “So, no more ‘Little Myra’?”
“No more ‘Lil’.” Myra did not elaborate. Emaa nodded and smiled gently.
KoKy had provided two cups of tea, and Fae set it on the coffee table for them.
There was a large black cube with metal edging in the center of the room. It was a secure shipping container, open. Gray foam lined the interior, and a large foam pad leaned against it.
“KoKy,” Emaa began, “start recording.”
A red light blinked on beneath KoKy’s left temple. “I am recording.”
“Sign this recording with an irrefutable signature and date and time stamp.”
“Understood. I will use the National Institute of Science and Technology’s non-fungible token services.”
“Good. Call out everyone in the room, first and last names, legal names only.”
KoKy looked directly at each. “Fae Duska, Myra Alquist, Kiefer Alquist, and Emaa Rocail are present.”
Myra silently noticed KoKy did not recognize himself.
“Good,” Emaa continued. “Add Fae to your list of administrative operators.”
“Fae Duska is now an approved administrative operator of android KoKy.”
Emaa closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. An action entirely unnecessary for an android, but it appeared to calm her. She smiled at Fae. “Your show now.”
Fae tightened her face and looked as if she was about to cry. She, too, took a deep breath. “Okay. We all know what happens next, so this is for the record.” She composed herself, looked at her tablet, and set it aside. “Let’s say our goodbyes.”
Myra and Kiefer rose and joined Emaa in a three-way hug. Myra began crying inconsolably and Fae rushed over, but stopped before joining the group. Emaa motioned her in. The four of them stood speechless with arms around each other, wiping tears from themselves and each other. Kiefer teared up as well, but had enough of his wits that he and Fae guided Myra back to the couch.
After Fae regained her composure, she put a step stool next to the box. A glance around the room, and all eyes were on Emaa.
As they watched, Emaa used the stool to step into the foam bottom of the box. Straightening her dress, she lowered herself to her knees and paused. She blew Myra and Kiefer a kiss. Then her shining turquoise eyes disappeared into the box as she assumed a fetal position.
Fae placed the remaining foam pad across the top of Emaa, and closed the box. Everyone watched stone-faced for a moment, absorbing what was happening. Fae motioned for KoKy to record a small screen on top of the box as she typed a fifteen-character code into it twice. Muffled latching sounds, followed by air being evacuated. KoKy stepped back to the wall.
Fae looked solemnly at Myra and Kiefer and paused. “By now, Emaa’s physical functions will be entirely shut-down. She’ll be entering something I can only describe as lucid dreaming as she removes her most intimate memories of Myra and Cooper. The rest of her memories will remain in case future researchers learn to decode her.”
Myra nodded and squeezed Kiefer’s hand. He was watching her instead of Fae.
“Tomorrow, we will meet here with Secretary Joseph Henry from the Smithsonian, who will oversee her shipping to The Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. Secretary Henry does not have the unlock-code, so I will be present when we remove Emaa. I’ve sent you copies of the unlock-code.” Fae choked. “I will oversee the removal and storage of her power systems.” She wiped her eyes. “I will stay there for another month to oversee forensic research.”
Myra and Kiefer both silently nodded acknowledgement.
“The Smithsonian will seal Emaa in an argon-filled blast-proof glass display. Yourselves and the rest of the board of the Myra, Cooper, and Emaa Rocail Foundation will be invited to the opening of the exhibit.”
Her voice faltering, Fae continued, “For the record, she will remain a ward of The Foundation for so long as there is a foundation. The Foundation Board must approve any actions The Smithsonian or future caretakers propose with her remains.”
Myra felt it was important to add, “I understand,” for the record. It was barely a whisper.
Kiefer nodded his understanding.
“KoKy,” Fae said, “in a moment I will ask you to stop recording. After you stop, sign the recording and send encrypted copies to my personal address, the legal team with the Rocail Foundation, and Mr. Joseph Henry of the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. Stop recording now.”
The light went out on KoKy’s temple. “I have signed the recording, and I am sending it to yourself, the legal team at the Myra, Cooper, and Emaa Rocail—”
“Yeah, yeah, I trust you.” Fae waved him off. “Please give us some privacy.”
The android left the room.
Myra and Kiefer were both on the couch. Kiefer watched the box in the middle of the room, as if expecting Emaa to rise from it. Myra watched the moonlit oak tree outside Cooper’s window—her grandparent’s ashen remains now nourishing it. Grandma Myra loved that tree. She would be happy how healthy and green it was.
Fae opened the window to let in the springtime night air. She gathered both teacups from the coffee table, setting them aside for KoKy. Using the coffee table as a chair, she sat facing the mourning couple. Myra was drawn to Fae’s eyes—her blue-gray eyes had a hint of green in them tonight.
“After our work at The Smithsonian is done, I will be 100% at your disposal,” Fae said.
Myra swallowed hard, trying to accept that Emaa was gone.
“Thanks,” said Kiefer, his voice wavering. “I wish you’d accept our offer to join the foundation.”
“I can’t.” Fae shook her head.
“Of course you can,” Myra pleaded.
“No. There’s one more thing…”
One more thing? No, not one more thing. Myra had enough for one day. Was this something in her grandfather’s last wishes? She was tired. She had just said goodbye forever to two people she loved. Couldn’t one more thing wait?
“I’m serious when I say I’m 100% at your disposal,” Fae continued. “One hundred percent. I care about the two of you deeply.”
Myra looked at Kiefer. Kiefer cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. She looked back at Fae.
“I took the name Duska because it means twilight or soul.” Fae looked over her shoulder at the box and turned back toward Myra and Kiefer. “I would like to be known as Fae Alquist.”
Kiefer was whispering, “No… it can’t be…” Taking Myra’s hands, Fae leaned between the two of them. With her familiar smile and new turquoise eyes, Fae revealed, “I’m Emaa’s daughter.”
M. T.
Very cool. Is this something you wrote? Love the concepts. Artificial intelligence reproduction. Believeing in a creator….
Yeah. Still a work in progress, though. I need to build out the personalities more.