Джек Макдевитт - A Voice in the Night

“Just leave it to me, Ethan. I’ll handle it. You’ve told her about this, so she knows what’s coming. She’ll be fine.” When family issues got serious, Olivia’s eyes inevitably grew intense. The laser vision that I’d seen before at critical moments showed up again. It had been there the night we’d taken Sarah to the hospital with a hundred and five temperature. And when she decided I was taking the job at the gym primarily so I could ogle some of the clients. And when we got the news that my mother had died. She also had gone too soon, like Olivia the victim of an automobile accident. “That’s the real problem, Ethan, isn’t it? You aren’t buying that I’m actually here, that I love you as she did, that I’m ecstatic to have you and Sarah in my life. You probably don’t even believe I have a life. But I do. And no, we can’t bring the original Olivia back, but if she had known about this technology, she’d have wanted you to do exactly what you’ve done.”

She was wearing the golden slacks she’d had since our earliest days together, and a white cotton blouse that I’d given her at Christmas a few weeks before everything had gone wrong. “So you have no problem with Sarah?” I said.

“None. The research indicates that the vast majority of people who accept the program, especially children, are much better off in the long run.”

“Okay. Let’s hope they’ve got it right.”

“There’s something else I should tell you. It probably hasn’t occurred to you, but I need to see her.” Her voice trembled. “I miss Sarah.”

“How is that possible, Olivia? I mean, you’ve never really seen her.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “I’ve seen her. And I have all the emotions and memories of your wife.”

“Incredible. I almost think you are Olivia.”

“I am.”

“She’ll be so happy to see you again. I’m just worried that—.”

“Leave it in my hands.” She bit her lower lip as she always did when life became difficult. “How are you doing, Ethan?”

“I’ll survive.”

“Stay clear of tractor-trailers.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn’t work and she must have known it before she’d finished. I sat down beside her and waved it away. We talked about old times, about the night I’d called her shortly after we’d met and we’d gone for a walk through Arcadia Park. And about the bikini I’d given her for her birthday that she’d refused to wear. And our first date and how we wished we could return to it and do it again. On that magnificent evening we’d gone downtown to listen to Benjamin Grosvenor play Mozart and Rachmaninoff. “After that night,” she said, “I knew I wouldn’t let you get away.”

I don’t know how she was aware of that. Olivia told me that story at our wedding, and I can’t imagine her having told it to anyone else.

The school bus pulled up. “That’s her now,” I said.

I was waiting at the front door when Sarah came in. She was in third grade, and clearly her mom’s daughter. She had Olivia’s eyes, her soft brown hair, and her relentless energy. She said hello to me, dropped her schoolbag by a footrest where she usually left it, and fell into a chair. “Long day?” I asked.

“Boring.” Sarah was of course accustomed to talking with AI’s. She loved carrying a conversation with Jerry, the house. And she was always telling our car to look out. So I started by explaining that we had another one inside that she could talk with.

Her face brightened. “The one that impersonates Mommy?” She gave me a weak smile, suggesting that she wasn’t buying it.

But when she entered the den and saw Olivia, she screamed and charged across the room into her mother’s arms. “Look out,” said the avatar as her image collapsed.

I got Sarah off the floor and Olivia was back again, bending over the child. “You’re still too quick for me,” she said. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I knew that was coming. You just move too fast.”

“Mommy, is that really you?”

“I’ve taken her place, Sarah. And yes, I’ll be with you the same as she would.”

“Oh, Mom, it’s so good to see you again.” She’d begun to cry and laugh simultaneously.

“I feel the same way, Sarah. I wish I could hug you, but it’s the one area where I’m afraid I can’t make it happen.”

“I understand, Mom.”

“And I want you to know I’ll be here whenever you need me. Whenever you want to talk.”

“But you’re not real, are you? You’re not much different from Jerry, right? Except that I can see you.”

Olivia hesitated. “I love you, Sarah. And I’m real.”

Tears were running down Sarah’s cheeks. She wiped them away, said something I couldn’t make out, turned and left the den. I followed and asked if she was okay.

“Daddy, when you first told me about her, I didn’t think it could actually happen.” She waved me to leave her alone and retreated into her bedroom. Moments later, I heard her TV come on.

I went back to Olivia. She was standing by the sliding glass door that opened into the back yard. There was a glimmer of lightning, and thunder rumbled in the distance. “She okay?” she asked.

“I think you’re going to take a little getting used to.”

“I’m sorry.” She was still looking out at the sky. “This is a tricky business.”

“She doesn’t understand. Or I guess she does. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Give it time. In the end, she’ll be better off.”

“You’re not just saying that to protect Celestial, are you?”

“No, Ethan. I don’t think your wife ever lied to you. And I won’t either.”

Sarah kept her distance after that during those first few weeks. When she walked into a room where Olivia was present, she said hello. Sometimes she went a bit further and added a comment about the weather, or how school was going, but other than that, she remained withdrawn. Olivia asked me to be patient, and explained that it would take time.

For me, the passions of earlier years returned in full force. Olivia was back again and that was what mattered. We could sit quietly and watch the old TV shows that we’d always enjoyed. At night we could walk through the back yard almost hand in hand while we joked about what our neighbors, the Prescotts and Martins, would think if they saw us. I hadn’t informed anyone because I had no idea how the experiment would play out. The important aspect was that it came together and took me to a happier time.

Eventually the people in our lives learned about Olivia. I don’t know whether they saw her, or whether Sarah told them. I asked her not to say anything, but that was a heavy burden to place on a third-grader. No one seemed surprised. The technology had been in the media for weeks. Friends and neighbors wanted to come and say hello to her, although there was often some uneasiness when it actually happened. Everybody wanted to know whether we were being invited onto reality TV shows. Other couples were beginning to appear. They weren’t always husbands and wives. There were parents who replaced lost kids. One guy brought back a long-time friend who’d become a priest and died in one of the Middle Eastern wars. Celebrities who had passed began showing up on TV engaging in old routines.

Olivia had been back about eight weeks when we watched a program in which a divorced mother appeared with a daughter who’d died in a plane crash. “I’m sorry I started it,” the mother said.