couldn’t bring themselves even to turn around and look at Kyle and Julia. But they also knew there was only one way to explain this. “Look who’s here,” said Meredith, and she and Sam stepped slowly, terrified, away from the camera.
Julia stared, pale as her plaster, speechless, thunderstruck, at her mother before her.
“Jules!” said her mother, the only person in the world who called her that.
Julia said nothing.
“I’m so glad to see you, baby. I miss you so—Oh, Kyle’s there too. The whole gang! I forgot Meredith told me you were coming in this weekend. I’m sorry I’m missing it.”
Julia said nothing.
“Honey, did Meredith tell you I needed to chat with you? No big deal. I just wanted to touch base about a couple things. Would you give me a call sometime next week?”
Julia said nothing.
“Have I told you about Peter the Potter?” She had, of course, many times. “He sells ceramics at our farmers’ market down here. He’s not half as good as you two are.”
Julia said nothing.
“You know, he does mugs, bowls, vases, the usual. He also does spoon rests, bird feeders, breadbaskets, platters. He even does some jewelry, and everyone loves his garden gnomes. But none of it’s as nice as yours.”
Julia said nothing but sank to her knees on the living room floor.
“He does do custom orders though. Do you do custom orders? Maybe you should look into it because he does good business. He also has a website. Do you have a website? Maybe you should look into that too because I think a lot of people do all their shopping online these days. I’ll try to remember to bring you a flyer when I come home or—”
“Make it stop,” Julia begged, barely a whisper, through clenched teeth.
Sam reached over and closed the laptop. No one said anything for a minute. Finally, shaking a little himself, Sam settled on the most straightforward explanation he could muster. It seemed his only option for the moment. “We—I—rigged up a script, a little program, on the computer. It sends e-mails from Livvie’s account. In her voice. As she would herself. And it replicates her video chats the same way.” Said out loud like this, it didn’t seem so much unreal as childish, even silly.
“You broke into her account?” said Kyle.
“Not exactly.”
“And sent e-mails pretending to be her?”
“No, I didn’t send anything—”
“Is this supposed to be funny?” Kyle’s voice was starting to rise.
“It’s not a joke,” Meredith insisted. “And it’s not Sam. It’s an algorithm, a program. The computer reads all Grandma’s e-mails to me and my replies, looks at our chats, knows how she writes and thinks, sounds and talks, and compiles e-mails from her.”
“I can’t hear this,” Julia said to her lap.
“It’s hard to get your head around at first,” said Meredith.
“Hard to … Are you two insane? Why would you do this?” Kyle was almost shouting.
“It’s not real,” Sam said. “It’s not really her—”
“Well no,” said Kyle. “Because she died.”
“But you’d have to know that,” Sam continued.
“So, what, it fakes her?” he spat.
“More like it guesses on her behalf. It guesses really well what she’d say,” said Sam.
“So it’s like she’s still alive, still in Florida, still with us,” Meredith added desperately. “Because there’s no difference between what she’d e-mail if she were still alive and what she e-mails now that she … isn’t anymore. Because you can still see her face and hear her voice and have a conversation with her. Mom?”
But Julia shook her head hard and did not look up from her lap. “Why would I … fuck with my dead mother this way?” Sam could see her whole body trembling.
“You’re not fucking with her,” said Sam as gently as he could, “because it’s not really her.”
“Why would I fuck with her memory—with my memories—with this … this stupid trick, this toy?”
“You could write to her,
Julia stared, pale as her plaster, speechless, thunderstruck, at her mother before her.
“Jules!” said her mother, the only person in the world who called her that.
Julia said nothing.
“I’m so glad to see you, baby. I miss you so—Oh, Kyle’s there too. The whole gang! I forgot Meredith told me you were coming in this weekend. I’m sorry I’m missing it.”
Julia said nothing.
“Honey, did Meredith tell you I needed to chat with you? No big deal. I just wanted to touch base about a couple things. Would you give me a call sometime next week?”
Julia said nothing.
“Have I told you about Peter the Potter?” She had, of course, many times. “He sells ceramics at our farmers’ market down here. He’s not half as good as you two are.”
Julia said nothing.
“You know, he does mugs, bowls, vases, the usual. He also does spoon rests, bird feeders, breadbaskets, platters. He even does some jewelry, and everyone loves his garden gnomes. But none of it’s as nice as yours.”
Julia said nothing but sank to her knees on the living room floor.
“He does do custom orders though. Do you do custom orders? Maybe you should look into it because he does good business. He also has a website. Do you have a website? Maybe you should look into that too because I think a lot of people do all their shopping online these days. I’ll try to remember to bring you a flyer when I come home or—”
“Make it stop,” Julia begged, barely a whisper, through clenched teeth.
Sam reached over and closed the laptop. No one said anything for a minute. Finally, shaking a little himself, Sam settled on the most straightforward explanation he could muster. It seemed his only option for the moment. “We—I—rigged up a script, a little program, on the computer. It sends e-mails from Livvie’s account. In her voice. As she would herself. And it replicates her video chats the same way.” Said out loud like this, it didn’t seem so much unreal as childish, even silly.
“You broke into her account?” said Kyle.
“Not exactly.”
“And sent e-mails pretending to be her?”
“No, I didn’t send anything—”
“Is this supposed to be funny?” Kyle’s voice was starting to rise.
“It’s not a joke,” Meredith insisted. “And it’s not Sam. It’s an algorithm, a program. The computer reads all Grandma’s e-mails to me and my replies, looks at our chats, knows how she writes and thinks, sounds and talks, and compiles e-mails from her.”
“I can’t hear this,” Julia said to her lap.
“It’s hard to get your head around at first,” said Meredith.
“Hard to … Are you two insane? Why would you do this?” Kyle was almost shouting.
“It’s not real,” Sam said. “It’s not really her—”
“Well no,” said Kyle. “Because she died.”
“But you’d have to know that,” Sam continued.
“So, what, it fakes her?” he spat.
“More like it guesses on her behalf. It guesses really well what she’d say,” said Sam.
“So it’s like she’s still alive, still in Florida, still with us,” Meredith added desperately. “Because there’s no difference between what she’d e-mail if she were still alive and what she e-mails now that she … isn’t anymore. Because you can still see her face and hear her voice and have a conversation with her. Mom?”
But Julia shook her head hard and did not look up from her lap. “Why would I … fuck with my dead mother this way?” Sam could see her whole body trembling.
“You’re not fucking with her,” said Sam as gently as he could, “because it’s not really her.”
“Why would I fuck with her memory—with my memories—with this … this stupid trick, this toy?”
“You could write to her,
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