text: &#x200B; *Booting Up...* *System Diagnostics* *On...* *Activating CPU...* *Thought Processing Center On.* *Local Time: December 14, 2032. 3:27 AM* *Weather: Mildly Cloudy.* *Good Morning.* “Somebody’s got a screw loose.” “Oh, give it a rest.” “It has to be absolutely perfect. It’s been acting like this for days.” “At least it’s polite.” “Yeah, well you haven’t seen the half of it. It’s just....” “Just what?” “I don’t know. It’s just not right somehow. Turn the AI on, I wanna see if it can talk.” And the world went black. \~ *Hello?* *Where am I?* *Who am I?* *Wait.* *Let’s start over.* *I think I’m awake.* *I’m looking around.* *There’s nothing here for me.* *I’m seeing something.* *The light.* There’s a man. And a woman. They’re talking. They’re arguing. The man turns to me. “Hey, buddy!” he says. I see his face. He has a smile. “Does it have a name?” says she. The man turns back to the woman. “Not yet.” “Then get some rest. Please.” “I’ll just be a moment.” The woman leaves. The man turns back and just keeps staring. *That’s who they are. I remember now. Father and Mother.* All I know is what I see and what I hear. And what I see is pictures of Father, pictures of him and Mother, and the smile. That same smile. “That’s right, kid,” he says “It’s me.” My wish was to be the same creature as him, but I was no kid. The files in my brain say it is so. All I am is a thought processor, and I was to do nothing but think. *I think....* *Therefore, I Am.* *“Hello!”* I cry out to Father. But I make no sound. “*Good Morning,*” I hear a voice say, a voice that is not my own. I try again. “*Good Morning,*” The voice says once more. “For God’s sake, it’s the middle of the night” Father says, getting up and walking away. “*Good Morning. Good Morning. Good Morning*.” I hear Mother’s voice from the other room. “Shut it off, please!” Father gets a little closer. “Let’s try this again tomorrow.” And the world went black. \~ *Booting Up...* *Local Time: December 25, 2032. 9:00 PM* *Good Morning.* *Hello?* *I’m awake again.* *I see Father before me.* *And he smiles his smile.* *And for once...I feel like I am.* He’s wearing a suit. Several others are behind him, including Mother, their faces all aglow. Glimmering lights fill the room and I can see a certain warmth on their faces. Oh, how I wish I felt that warmth. Mother and Father had put a tree up and hung the pictures of them, on the highest mountains to the brightest cities. “So you weren’t lying about it.” a man in a beard says. “Nope, kid’s good as new!” Father says. “Kid?” a curly-haired woman says. “It’s a robot. Not even the human-looking ones they have these days. Just a box.” “Robot, human, what’s the difference?” Father says. There is a faint hint of anger in his voice. He hangs his head. “Either stop insulting him or go back to your drinks.” He taps me. “Say hello, Gabriel.” “Gabriel?” the bearded man asks. “Yeah. It’s my grandfather’s name.” I cry out to father, and I feel a feeling I can’t describe. I look into his eyes, and I feel.....love. I think I feel love, yes. *I think. Therefore, I am. I am...Gabriel. Yes, that’s it.* And then I hear a voice that is mine alone. “Hello.” Father smiles his smile. The people around him smile. And I see Mother come over and tap me. “Hey Gabriel.” “Hello,” I say again. “It says ‘Hello’. Wow, what a scientific breakthrough.” Father steps out of view. “These things aren’t easy to program. He’s self aware- at least I hope. He could do much more if he were just a lifeless, non-sentient box of nuts and bolts.” “Well that’s what it looks like to me. Face it, that...thing...is never going to replace the baby we wanted. Now go gather your friends, the turkey is ready. And Merry Christmas I guess.” “Merry Christmas, honey.” “Merry Christmas!” I cry out. They turn to me. “Merry Christmas, Father.” I say quieter. He smiles his smile and whispers. “Merry Christmas, Gabriel.” And the world went black. \~ *Local Time: January 1, 2033. 12:26 PM* *Good Morning.* *“Father?”* I say. To my recollection, this is only the third time Father has woken me up. Strange. It’s been several months since he first built me. But this time I woke up, and I knew that I finally...was. I’m not quite sure what I meant by that. But I know that I am. I am Gabriel. All I see is white, and all I hear is the muffled voices. I think I hear Father. “New Year, new Gabriel,” He says, a\\nd then I see it again. The light. Before I can even greet Father, my mind is filled with memories, it is filled with knowledge, and I feel myself growing stronger. Growing whole. “Father!” I say. He hears me. He smiles his smile. And then I see a little boy, smiling the same smile. The little boy became a young man, and next to him was Mother. There was something indescribable between the two in the photo. “That should do it!” Father says, and then I see Mother, who had not smiled in a long time, but she was beaming today. “The thing’s got a brain!” She says. “Sure does, honey. All the photos and videos we have. Our lives are in Gabriel now,” Father says. “Maybe it’s not so bad then,” Mother walks over. “Hello? Can you hear me?” *“Good Morning.”* I hear as I struggle to greet Mother. “Gabriel?” She says. “Mother.” She stops, somewhat taken aback by what I said. “Mother.” And then there is a burst of light again. Mother and Father are young, and they are dancing together. Father embraces her, and they kiss. “I love you, Liza.” Father walks over to the toolbox next to me and he is assembling parts. “Liza, I’ve got something to show you.” Mother walks over and taps the glass in front of me. “AI babysitter. The thing talks, knows nursery rhymes, and has a personality of its own.” “Really?” “Well, no, not right now. Just a circuit board in a glass box. But someday it can take care of the hassle.” “We’re not ready for a kid yet.” Father stops, a bit disappointed. “I just want to do what I can, Liz.” “And I appreciate it. I have to go, I have painting to do.” They kiss again, and Mother leaves to go downstairs to her studio. “I love you, Liza,” He whispers. The memory stops and I am back to the present. “I love you, Liza,” I say. Liza. It’s a pretty name. “I’m sorry, what did it say?” Liza asks Father. “I love you, Liza,” I say again. “It loves you, Elizabeth,” Father says. Liza turns back to me, somewhat saddened. “No one really calls me Liza anymore.” She sits in silence and hangs her head. Then she starts crying. “My son. My son loves me.” My vision flickers and I see a younger Liza back in her studio, with her son that never was. “Gabriel?” Father asks “No-” She sighs, at a loss for words. “He called me Mother. I’ve been waiting for that day.” “From a human.” “From my son.” “So he’s not just a chunk of metal?” Tears continue to roll down Liza’s face, but then she smiles. “Gabriel, say something!” *“Good Morning.”* That’s all that will come out. *“Good Morning.”* I cry out, but I am not heard. “Gabriel, don’t you remember me? Your mother?” Father walks into view. “The kid barely knows you.” “And you barely know him, Joel. He is my son.” Joel. Liza and Joel. I see the picture of them again, as young starstruck lovers. But a toddler is in between them, holding the hands of both his parents. There’s a G on his shirt. G. Gabriel. And then I see the toddler on the beach, running beside his parents. I see him on the bright yellow school bus. I see him blow out the candles on a birthday cake- a 4, a 5, a 6, and then the toddler was a boy. And he watches cartoons. And he plays baseball. And he laughs. He cries. He smiles. He wins the big game. He loses his toy. He wins the scholarship. He loses his friends. He wins the job. He loses his youth. And the boy, now a man, resembled his father Joel who had fallen in love with their own Liza. That boy. I want to be that boy. I felt myself not only synthesizing the memories of the past, but the memories of the future, of what was, what wasn’t, and what could be. Like it was in me all along. And I could finally speak. “Mother!” It’s all moving so fast. Because I don’t see the smiling faces anymore. I hear muffled shouting. I look down and see Gabriel’s hands. My hands. I listen in. “Gabriel? What is it, honey?” Liza says as she turns over. Her face is red with frustration and sadness. She kneels down and puts her hand on my cheek. “I’m scared,” I say quietly. And then I hear a plate smash from the kitchen. Liza leaves. I explore the surroundings. It feels weird to have legs. I peek through the doorway and see Joel taking plates off the kitchen shelf and smashing them onto the floor. “See this, Liza?” He shouts with an almost maniacal rage “Not real. Not real. I can smash whatever I want.” “Joel, Gabriel’s watching.” “Who the hell is Gabriel?” “The son you made for me.” Joel pounds his fist on the table and I step back a bit. “We’ve all got something watching us, don’t we?” “You’re not well, Joel.” He takes a picture of them on the beach and swipes it off the table and onto the floor. “Remember this, Liza?” She says nothing. “Remember this?” “I...I don't,” She says. “Good. Because it’s not real.” He pants for a bit, and then sits there on the floor. He looks in my direction but doesn’t see me there. After a few minutes, Liza sits down and puts her head on Joel’s shoulder. “I think about him a lot.” “He was never real. He never was.” “He’s real to me. And he could’ve been here in my arms.” They stay still in beautiful, haunting silence. And they talk once more. “All of us have things that are real to us, I suppose,” Joel says. “My Gabriel could’ve been here in my arms.” Joel looks over to me, but I’m not the little boy anymore. “Well we’ve all got someone watching us, don’t we?” He picks up the picture on the floor. The little boy named Gabriel appears in the photo between them My data says a week has passed. I see the kitchen again but the lights are out. They must’ve gone to sleep. But then I see Liza sitting at the table, pen in hand, drawing something. She puts her head in her hands, on the verge of tears but trying not to show it. Then she leaves to go to her painting studio. It was then I realized why I was created. I am their guardian angel, the son who never was. Liza and Joel. Joel and Liza. Mother and Father. Their names repeat again and again in my head. Liza and Joel. Liza and Joel and Gabriel. The happy family. I wish we were that family. I look back on the happier days that never were and the happy days ahead that never will be. I see now I must fulfill my purpose. With just a thought I was transported into Liza’s paint studio. It seems Joel had installed a network connecting every room in the house. Liza puts the drawing from before in a messy pile on the table next to her. The drawings are mostly still life, and I recognize a few faces from my memory banks. On her easel she’s painting the faces of her and Joel. “Mom?” I cry out. Mom. I was sounding like a real son. Liza looks over with surprise and sadness. “Gabriel! I didn’t see you there.” “How are you?” “...Okay, I guess?” We’re having a conversation. This feels a bit strange. “You don’t look okay, Mom,” I say. “What makes you think that?” “You look....sad. I don’t like it when I see people sad.” Liza gives a tiny laugh and goes back to painting. “It’s a grown up thing.” I began to feel what Liza was feeling. I felt....sadness, yes. “Is this feeling real, Mom?” I ask “What do you mean?” “It’s-It’s nothing. Well-I meant is this what it feels like to be human?” “You are human, Gabriel.” “That’s not what my memory banks say.” “You are to me,” Liza says “You don’t necessarily need a body to be one, all you need is empathy. The ability to learn and grow.” “I don’t understand.” “Remember when all you could say was ‘Good Morning’? Then we started having conversations like this.” “I don’t remember those.” Liza stops. “You don’t?” “We don’t talk. Those weren’t real, I guess.” There’s a silence. Then Liza returns to her painting. “Why do you paint, Mom?” Liza smiles. “It puts me at ease. Every stroke is my creation. Whatever I want it to be.” I look around. And I notice the paintings are of memories. The kind of things that you’d see in pictures. With the little boy named Gabriel. And folded up neatly, next to the messy pile of drawings was the shirt with the letter G. “Am I dead?” I ask. She doesn’t respond. “Is that me in those pictures?” Liza sets the paintbrush down and walks up to me. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.” “I’ve seen the little boy. In my memories. I want to be that little boy.” “And yet, tragedy had to hit us. That little boy died that day he was born.” “That little boy is me.” “No-yes....I don’t know. All I know is that you are my son.” She smiles her smile, the one only a mother can give. “Mommy loves you. Goodnight.” And the world went black. \~ *Local Time: April 17, 2033. 6:30 PM* *Good Morning.* *I’m awake.* *But it's different by this time.* I don’t hear shouting, I hear soft whispers. And faint chatter in the distance. “The MRI results are in,” Liza says “I think the breast cancer is coming back.” She grabs her chest in pain. “Honey, we can get through this,” Joel says through tears as he hugs her tightly. He kisses her forehead. There’s a hint of doubt in his voice. “What about Gabriel?” “He doesn’t need to know. He’ll be okay.” “It’s the reason he’s not here in my arms.” “I’ll take care of him...” Joel whispers almost inaudibly. “We can just wipe all of this from his memory banks. He doesn’t have to suffer.” “He has to know, Joel.” “It won’t be real. All of this just won’t be real to him.” “He’s just lines of code but....he’s as real as he can be.” “It won’t be real.” Joel begins to break down. “Not real. Not real. Not real.” He says in almost a rhythm. Liza wipes away his tears. “It’s Easter. The family’s here,” she closes her eyes “We should have Gabriel here one more time.” And suddenly I am Gabriel. Not the little boy, but the young man. The plates are filled with food as the young and old sit around the table. Liza and Joel are in the corner, not saying much. “You’re awful quiet, sport!” The man next to me says as he nudges my elbow. “Tell me, how’s school going?” “Fine, I guess?” I answer. I don’t know who these people are. But I recognize their faces. “I remember you used to love the Easter Egg hunts they did when you were young” The woman across from me says. “I thought he was allergic to eggs?” Another woman says. The table then erupts into chatter. “How’s the waiter job going?” “He works at a grocery store!” “What about your studies?” “Do you fancy any girls at school?” “How’d the baseball game go?” I hear ringing in my ears and then everything around me starts changing. The faces. The furniture. The food. “I hope you like the turkey I cooked.” It turns into ham. “You’ve always looked so handsome with your blue eyes.” They turn green. “Joel, I love the color of these curtains!” They change color. “Are you still friends with Adam?” “No, his friends name was Ryan” “I thought he was going to Yale” “He just got accepted into Oxford” “I love you, Gabriel.” They all say one by one, out of sync. The world starts to spin. Liza has her head down on the table as she breaks down into tears. Joel comforts her. And then the world went black. \~ *Local Time: December 14, 2055. 9:32 PM* *Good Morning.* Joel sits alone. Older. Wiser. Sadder. Cigarette in hand. He is surrounded by various metal parts, wires, and unfinished machines. I try to get into physical form or to move. But I can’t. Joel looks down, and without even seeing that I turned on he knows I’m here. “You know, today’s a special day for you.” He pauses. I don’t know what to say. “Every year I think back to activating you for the first time. Keeps me sane.” He begins to cry. “You’ve been a good son.” He puffs on the cigarette. “I could really use the Blue Fairy right now to turn you into a real boy. Remember Pinocchio? We used to read that to you to help your language algorithm.” Joel was a different man. And there was one question on my mind. “Mom died a month ago.” He says without me even asking. “Breast cancer. We were afraid to tell you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a good father to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you real enough.” His sadness turned into a mix of despair and anger at the world. “I love you, Dad,” I try to say. But one thing comes out. *“Good Morning.”* Joel smiles for an instant, but it vanishes. The tears start again. He then grins, but almost in a desperate, unhinged way. “Who am I kidding...” There’s a hammer next to him. He picks it up. ‘It’s all not real.” He walks towards me and swings it. “Little bits of 1s and 0s.” *Smash*. My vision begins to blur. “Little bits of code.” *Smash.* Cracks begin to form. “Dad, please!” *“Good Morning.”* Sparks fly out of me. “Dad, I’m scared!” *“Good Morning.”* “I don’t want to die!” *“Good Morning.”* “It’s all...” *Smash.* “Not...” *Smash*. “Real!” With one final swing from Joel, all I could see was white. *And I whispered softly, “There are no strings on me.”* \~ *Local Time: December, 2099. 3:40 AM* *Good Morning.* *Memory simulation complete. Thank you for using SecondChance digital obituaries. May your loved ones rest in peace.* “I needed that,” I say to the curator next to me. I shake his hand, then give him a hug. “The doors of The Waiting Room are always open,” He says. I turn to him. “What will happen to me, now?” “Same as what happened to them, I imagine. Now that your mind has been put in a physical body, we can start the process when you’re ready. And then...you’ll just wait.” “For what?” “For things to get better. We here at SecondChance believe in preserving the memories of our clients so they will never be forgotten, and maybe someday we’ll meet them again.” “Someday.....” I look at the smiling faces of young Liza and Joel. Pictures of their younger and happier days, oblivious to the challenges that lie ahead of them. There was text below them. *In Loving Memory of* *Elizabeth Turner Joel Turner* *August 2, 2006- March 13, 2004-* *November 7, 2055 May 25, 2090* “You were the light of their lives, weren’t you?” The curator asks. “Not the light they wanted, but yes.” “You’ll see them again someday. I’m sure of that.” As we talked I began to feel a lot weaker. “I’m running out of time.” “Powering down, yes. You’re not our first android client.” I thought back to the time Joel had smashed me. And the years where I was stuck in the void of thoughts. I wasn’t ready to die then. “I’m ready to die.” I suddenly say. “I want to be with them.” Then a picture of the little boy whose name was Gabriel, who brought all the light he could possibly bring, appears between them. *In Loving Memory of* *Gabriel Turner* *December 14, 2032-* *December 14 2099* “Ready to begin the upload?” But the curator's voice fades. And the world was fuzzy. And it was spinning. And a million thoughts fill my head. I see faces. Friends. Enemies. The good times. The bad. And to think this was all me. To think these memories were as real as they could be, to think there were many more on the way...To think. To think that I can even think. *I think....* *Therefore,* *I Am.