Living Image By James Rumpel

Joseph Marshal sat alone, a short distance from the open coffin. Most of the numerous mourners had already viewed the body of his mother, expressed their condolences, and returned to their everyday lives. Joseph was thankful for the brief reprieve from having to carry on conversations with the many family members and business associates of his mother who had attended the wake. He was not comfortable talking to people. For the entire twenty-four years of his life, he had lived with his mother, rarely venturing out into public. He loved his mother and would, assuredly, miss her greatly, but his biggest fears centered on how he would survive without her to provide a buffer between himself and other people.

To Joseph’s great dismay, he noticed a tall thin man, wearing a grey suit, approaching.

The man offered his hand. “Joseph, I would like to express my sincerest condolences at the loss of your mother.”

Joseph barely touched the extended hand before dropping his own hand to his side and looking down at his shoes. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“If you have a moment,” the man continued. “I’d like to talk to you about what your future holds. I know you lived with your mother and will miss her greatly. What if I told you there was a way you could continue to see and interact with her each day?”

Joseph gave the man a confused look, though he failed to make eye contact.

The man offered a business card. “I represent Living Images. Our company can take all known social media posts, personal correspondences, such as diaries, and other public information and create an artificial intelligence simulation of a person’s personality. We supply you with a life-size flat-screen image of the departed. The image will move, talk, and, even think like the person it is replacing. It will be just like having your mother in the room with you. She will give you the same loving advice and support she always provided. Please take my card. Think about it.”

Joseph took the card. “Thank you, I’ll think about it.”

“We have very affordable plans available.” The man started to extend his hand once again but realized the futility of attempting another handshake. He nodded his head toward Joseph and walked away.

Joseph looked at the card, considering what the man had offered. A sharp noise pulled him from his thoughts. The funeral director was starting to close the casket. He turned to Joseph. “Would you like to be with your mother on last time?” he asked.

#

The Living Image of his mother had been very expensive. Fortunately, money was not an issue. Joseph’s mother had been one of the primary designers and shareholders in smart-home technology. She had left Joseph, her only son, a substantial inheritance.

The installation technicians had just left. Joseph sat alone in the apartment he had recently, and, in a way, would once again be sharing with his mother. The smartment, as his mother’s company referred to it, was not large, only two bedrooms, a living room, a dining area, a storeroom, and a kitchen. It did, however, have every innovative technology available. His mother had been certain to install every feature her company produced.

Every room had interfaces which allowed the residents to communicate with all the devices and functions the apartment possessed. A user could give verbal commands to activate lights, control the entertainment center, use kitchen appliances, and complete many other trivial tasks. The grandest feature of all was the ISA, Interactive Smartment Automaton. The four-foot-tall robot was linked to all the appliances. Not only could the user verbally command the oven to heat any requested meal, but ISA could fetch the dish from the freezer, place it in the oven, and remove it upon completion. ISA moved about the apartment on two rubber tracks using sensors to avoid obstacles. It could perform any number of household tasks, such as vacuuming or setting the dinner table, all controlled through the smartment interface.

Joseph stared at the five-foot-tall, three-foot-wide, blank screen that sat on the wall between the kitchen and dining room. He turned the remote control in his hand, a little apprehensive about activating the Living Image. He felt lonely. Other than the installation technicians, who he had done his best to avoid, Joseph had not talked to a human being since he had placed the order a week ago. His mother was someone to whom he could talk.

Taking a deep breath, he hit the on-switch. Immediately, the screen came to life. Standing before him was a two-dimensional image of his mother. She looked just like she did in her most recent photo. She was dressed very professionally; a navy-blue jacket covered a white blouse. Her skirt matched the color of the jacket and came down to mid-calf. She wore heels, though they were not very high. She had used minimal make-up, only a subtle layer of lipstick and eyeshadow. Her light auburn hair was tied back in a bun; there was just the tiniest touch of grey at her temples.

“Joseph, are you doing okay?” she asked. Her expression changed to one of concern. The image moved fluidly and lifelike.

“Mother, I am so glad to see you. I have missed you so much.”

“Well, I am here now. I know I’m not the real me, but I still love you and will do everything I can for you, my son.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“Now, have you been eating properly? Maybe you should have ISA heat something up.”

“I’ve been eating fine. A lot of people brought food after the funeral.”

“That’s very nice. Have you been visiting any of the relatives? Have any come over to see you?”

“A few have called and asked, but I really didn’t want to have visitors.”

“That is fine. You don’t need to have visitors, anymore. I’m here for you now.”

#

Joseph turned on the Living Image screen. His mother, once again, appeared before him. On this day she wore a turquoise jogging suit. In the two weeks, since first activating the screen, John had remained in the apartment. His days were spent reminiscing with his mother and playing video games.

“Joseph, I know you like it in the apartment. I understand that you don’t like other people. In fact, I sort of feel the same way. But you are starting to run out of food and, to be honest, the place is a bit of a mess.”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I will order some more food to be delivered. They have the entrance code for the storeroom and place everything right in there. I can have ISA put it all away. I will also get ISA to clean up.”

“That’s where I have an idea,” said Mother. “Why don’t you hook my functions into the ‘smartment’. That way I can have access to everything. I can order your food, cook it for you, and clean up after you. I would be able to link directly to ISA and everything else in the apartment.”

“That sounds like a great idea. You aren’t going to turn off the entertainment center when I am in the middle of a game though, right?”

“Of course not, Son.” The image on the screen smiled.

“Great, I am really close to a high score on Zombie Shooter.” Joseph turned his attention back to his game. As he did so, he thought he caught a glimpse of his mother rolling her eyes.

#

Joseph struggled to swallow a bite of the tuna casserole. “This doesn’t taste very good.”

“Oh, that’s just too bad,” replied Mother. Today she wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Mother, what’s going on? You have been short with me, a lot, lately.”

“No, I haven’t. You’re being stupid.”

“Yes, you have. What did I do wrong?”

“You mean besides being an introverted mother’s boy who doesn’t do anything but sit around playing video games all day.”

“I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?” As Joseph asked this question, his eyes searched for and found the Living Image remote control. He grabbed it and directed it towards the screen. “I think we both need some alone time, Mother.” He turned the screen off.

Nothing happened. His mother’s image stared back at him; a scoff plastered on her face. “You connected me to the smartment, remember. I am in control of everything.”

“Not if I disconnect you.” John moved to the panel that acted as the main control for everything in the apartment. He reached to open it and was met by a painful jolt of electricity. The shock knocked him back. He yelped in pain.

Mother laughed, “I don’t think so.”

“Well, then I’m leaving.” Joseph ran to the door. As expected, it was locked. The deadbolt would not budge.

“And don’t think you can call anyone to help you. I have complete control of the WIFI and all phones. No calls, in or out, without my permission.”

Dejected, John sat on the sofa. “Why are you doing this? You’ve always been such a good mother.”

“Maybe I wasn’t. A good mother would have forced you to be more. I should have made you go out and learn to deal with other people. Now it’s too late. You’re nothing but a sniveling little waste of oxygen.”

“Please, I’ll go out and meet people. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No. You are going to stay here for the rest of your life. You don’t deserve a second chance.”

“You can’t do this to me.” In a flurry of action, John picked up one of the dining room chairs and heaved it at the screen. It bounced off, harmlessly.

“You know, these Living Image screens are pretty well made. Don’t try that again. I have an apartment full of possible weapons.” To emphasize her point, ISA entered the room from the storage area, a knife held in its mechanical hands.

#

When John awoke, he found himself bound and gagged. ISA was carrying him into the living room.

Mother’s image, wearing a leather jacket and multiple chains, flashed an extremely sadistic smile. “Good morning, Joseph. I’ve thought of a wonderful way for us to spend some time together. You want that don’t you?”

Eyes wide, unable to speak, Joseph shook his head vigorously.

“Maybe I should have ISA remove the gag. It might be fun to hear the screams.”

ISA, a knife in one hand and a pliers in the other, started to advance toward Joseph.

“Playtime.”

#

“Yes, may I speak to Joseph Marshal, please,” said the voice on the phone.

“This is he,” said a perfectly simulated voice, created by piecing together recorded conversations.

“I represent the Living Image Company. We have determined that there is a serious malfunction possible with the device we installed last month.”

“Really, everything seems to be working fine.”

“That’s good to hear. We were worried that it may have started acting up already. You see, somehow two AI simulations were accidentally installed into the Living Image you ordered. One was your mother, the other was an unsavory character.”

“Who?”

“Let’s just say that the simulation was being created for a study about the workings of the criminal mind, specifically serial killers.”

“Oh, my”

“You really should turn the simulation off immediately. We are sending a technician to your apartment to disable and remove it.”

“I will do just that. Thank you very much.”

When the other end of the line went dead, the image of Mother, now oddly intertwined with that of a sneering man glanced in the direction of a blood-stained robot. “Well, ISA, it looks like we are going to have to make some room in the freezer.”

—

James Rumpel is a retired high school math teacher who has greatly enjoyed using his newfound additional free time to rekindle his love for science fiction and the written word.