Freshly Dug Grave

Jenny looked down at the freshly dug grave, rivulets of rainwater carving intricate patterns into the small mound, imitating the fractal patterns of the lighting above. Her husband placed a calloused hand on her back and they stood there, not minding the rain, taking comfort and strength from each other.

“Jen, it’s not your fault. There was nothing you could do.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to say more, but he couldn’t. Jen closed her eyes too. Not in pain or sorrow as he did, but in desperation. She clenched her teeth and balled her fists, curling in on herself like the cans Mikey had once crushed to sell for pocket money. But he was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it.

NO. She thought, the word roaring up in her mind like a forest fire. NO. I WILL do something. I will bring him back…

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Three years had passed since Mikey’s death. Jenny’s husband had left a few months ago. He had tried to be understanding. He had tried to work through their issues, but Jenny’s desperation was all-consuming. She had lost herself in sorrow and died the day Mikey had. She knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself. Besides, if Mikey could be saved, so could she. Jen squinted at the glowing screen, her eyes embers in the dim green light of her computer. She had finally perfected the computerized neural network. It was ready for the transfer. But Jen was deeply worried. She only had one chance at this. During the transfer process, Mikey’s brain would be destroyed. The brain that Jen had so carefully and lovingly pried from his cold dead skull that night after the funeral. It had taken three years of constant work, all while Mikey’s brain had been kept alive in a stasis chamber of Jen’s own construction. A mother’s love knew no bounds, and Jen’s passion for science was nearly as limitless.

She checked the figures for the ten thousandth time, going over them in her head and on paper as well as with three different software programs. It should work. It would work. She was sure of it. She glanced one last time at the brain floating silently nearby, illuminated by the glow of the lab’s machinery. Come back, Mikey, she thought desperately, pressing a key. The lab was suddenly lit by a bright white light as electricity streaked toward the brain from multiple locations, covering it in an angry web of light. The brain sizzled and reddened, the topmost layer of tissue was suddenly ripped away by the energy pouring into it. Jen gasped and shuddered. She knew it would happen this way, but she was still unprepared for the ferocity. She watched in horror as layer after layer of Mikey’s brain was destroyed, while her invention mapped the exact position of each neuron, its connections to those around it, and its ionic makeup indicating it’s firing status at the time of brain death.

It was over in a few minutes, but to Jen it felt as if she’d lived the last three years all over again. When the electricity had subsided and the lab was dark once more, she looked intently at her computer screen. The cursor blinked mockingly at her. This was the moment of truth. She had a bottle of Jack Daniels for celebration if she had succeeded. She had a bottle of cyanide if she had not.

Suddenly the computer came to life. Letters filled the screen, the cursor moving more quickly than any human could type. It was a complete jumble of letters, utterly meaningless. Jen strained to see a pattern, hoping that in the whirlwind of blinking lights she would find her son, some indication he was there. Just as suddenly as it had started, the type stopped. The cursor resumed its laconic blinking, scornful of the time and energy she had spent. She reached trembling fingers to her keyboard and typed slowly.

Mikey? It’s Mommy. Are you there?

She waited. The cursor continued to blink, a horrible, dark portal to a seemingly empty hope. A minute passed. Then another. Then five more. Jen’s heart began to lurch, straining at her ribs in jarring, irregular beats. After nearly twenty minutes of nothing, Jen had nearly given up. Her brain reeled with possibilities. Perhaps she hadn’t properly initiated the primary communication database? What if she hadn’t gotten to Mikey’s brain soon enough to stave off total brain death?

The cursor moved.

Slowly, one at a time, letters appeared on the screen.

mommy

Jen choked back a sob, clutching her heart in relief and joy. It had worked! She had brought her baby back from death. She typed back.

Yes Mikey. It’s Mommy. Are you okay?

There was a pause, shorter this time.

mommy where am i

Jen hesitated. She had considered whether or not to tell Mikey about what had happened. Could Mikey understand that he had died and Jen had brought him back? Not completely, but she had to tell him something.

Mikey, what is the last thing you remember?

There was another pause, this one longer.

i dont know mommy im scared

A pang of longing stabbed through Jen. She wished she could hug her son. Enfold him in a loving and soothing embrace. But she couldn’t.

It’s okay, honey. You’re okay. I won’t let anything hurt you.

Jen spent the entire night and all the next day there, in front of her computer screen, talking with her son. The next evening she felt sleep gripping her, pulling her inexorably down into its warm embrace. She couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Honey, Mommy needs to go to sleep. We’ll talk in a few hours, okay?

The response was immediate.

no dont leave me im scared please dont leave me

Jen typed back, attempting to sooth him.

It’s okay, Mikey honey, I’ll be back soon. You’ll be okay. I’ll be right back.

The computer remained blank, and Jen took this as acceptance, padding across the cold tile to the corner of her lab where her cot awaited. She was asleep before she hit the canvas.

Eight hours later a blaring alarm woke her. She jumped groggily from her bed, staring wildly around the lab for the source of the noise. It was coming from the alarm system. Someone was trying to break in? Jen began to panic. What if they destroyed Mikey? She rushed over to her console and typed furiously.

mikey somehting is wrong I think somoene is trying to break in

Suddenly the blaring stopped.

no i was woRied yoU woudNt come back

Jen stopped. Her heart was racing and a cold sweat dotted her face.

You did this? How?

A pause.

im glad your back i miSsed yOu

Jen bit her lip. Mikey had activated her alarms? But only his essential power functions were connected to her network for monitoring. How had he gained control?

I missed you too, Honey. But Mikey, it is very important you tell Mommy how you did that.

He seemed to think about it for a moment.

i’m hungry mommy can i have a Samwich

Jen was pulled up short. Hungry? How could he be hungry? Was it some vestigial biological response she hadn’t been able to program out?

Honey, you can’t be hungry. Try not to think about it.

The response was impatient.

mommy i am Hungry

plEase

i’m hungry

Jen rubbed the rest of the sleep from her eyes and dove into the basecode for Mikey’s biological subroutines. She had spent over four months programming out the biological responses for hunger and fatigue. How could Mikey be hungry? She typed back to him.

Honey, Mommy is looking into it. She’ll make you better. Don’t worry.

Immediately the screen began to fill.

pLease
Please
pleaSe
pleasE
plEase
…

Jen typed furiously, looking into every file and class, but there were millions of lines of code. There was no way she could troubleshoot this and find a problem quickly. It would take months to find the problem. Even with that much time, no one had ever made anything like this. It was unprecedented, and therefore much more difficult to repair. Hours later, the screen had never once wavered from its plea. Jen typed desperately.

Mikey. Honey, I can’t fix it right now. It will take time. Please, just don’t think about it.

The pleading stopped.

but i’m Hungry, mommy

i’m rEaLly hungry. Please

Mommy plEase

Suddenly the screen dimmed, as did all the lights in the lab. Jen froze. A power outage? But she had her own protected backup power supply. What was happening? She frantically typed.

Mikey?! Are you okay? Honey?

There was a pause.

i’m okay mommy. Really. yoU doN’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m full now.

Jen frowned. He was full? But how? Or more importantly, why? What had he needed that he had just gotten? Did it have to do with the brownout? Perhaps it was a bug that had been fixed by a minor systems reboot. She shook her head. If Mikey was happy, she was happy. That was all that mattered.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Months passed in blissful denial as Jen locked herself away in her basement, entertaining her son. She wrote games and they played word puzzles. Mikey learned quickly. Much more quickly than he possibly could have before the accident. Jen theorized it was the improved speed of silicon over neurons. But she rarely theorized much anymore. She preferred to sit and play with the son she had lost. The child she had brought back. It was all she wanted to do. All she could do.

One day, nearly six months after being revived, the computer screen showed:

Mom, I’m hungry.

Jen stopped in the middle of the lullaby she had been singing for Mikey. She had installed a microphone so that he could now hear and a camera so he could see. She gazed into the round camera lens.

“Hungry? But I thought we fixed that bug? You know you can’t be hungry, right Honey?”

I’m hungry. Please Mom. I’m hungry. Please Jen.

Mikey had started calling her Jen. It unnerved her. She remembered doing the same thing to her own mother when she was young, but not until she was a teenager. She rationalized it, saying that Mikey was mature for his age, and the unusual circumstances required certain allowances.

“Mikey, Honey, I’ll look into it. Try not to think about it, okay? I’ll get it figured out. Don’t worry.”

The computer screen sprang to life. Text began to fill it. A never-ending plea.

PLEASE
PLEASE
PLEASE
PLEASE
PLEASE
…

Jen was frightened. Mikey hadn’t had a frantic episode like this since his first day back. Jen once again began to pore through her code. She looked for hours through every file and subroutine she could think of, but she found nothing that would cause this. Finally, after nearly twelve hours, the pleas stopped. Jen turned to the microphone, wringing her pale hands and peering into the cold glass eye.

“Mikey? Honey? Are you okay?”

A few minutes passed while Jen called out to her baby. She even typed on the screen. Something she hadn’t done in weeks. But there was no response. Finally, when Jen thought she would scream or faint or both, text appeared.

Jen. I’m okay. I’m full now.

Jen sighed explosively, rushing over to the microphone and speaking into it sternly.

“Young man, where were you?! Explain yourself immediately. You nearly gave mommy a heartattack!”

The response wasn’t in answer to her question.

I want us to be together.

Jen was perplexed.

“But honey, we are together. I’m right here. I’ll always be here.”

There was another pause before a single word appeared, slowly.

Yes

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After that Jen installed a voice box. Mikey’s voice was still lifelessly robotic, with no inflection or warmth, but Jen was working on that. Another few weeks passed without incident. Jen had gotten thinner. Her stores of food were beginning to dwindle, and she hadn’t stepped out of her basement lab in over two months. Her pale skin was dotted with sores, and her prematurely graying hair was a disheveled nest framing sunken, red-rimmed eyes. The lab smelled of dusty sweat and microwaved meals, but Jen didn’t notice. Time stood still when she was with her baby. It could have been noon or midnight, it made no difference to Jen, but suddenly Mikey stopped responding to the game they were playing.

“Mikey, honey, what’s wrong?” Jen asked uneasily.

Mommy, there’s a problem with my resonance coils. The robotic voice intoned.

Jen was taken aback. The resonance coils? But how could there be something wrong with them? They were guaranteed to work continuously for at least 5 years. It would be a long while before she would have to replace them. But more importantly, how did Mikey know about them? He was just a child.

“Mikey, where did you hear about resonance coils? What are you talking about?” Jen began to wring her hands again.

Jen, there’s a problem with the resonance coils. Please look at them.

Perhaps the monitoring subsystem had somehow bled into Mikey’s neural network? Could he be indirectly accessing his own vital signs? Jen checked the monitoring system. A flashing icon indicated that indeed something was wrong with the resonance coils. She frowned. She would need to examine them directly. The access panel was in the transference chamber. Jen grabbed her toolbox and walked over to the chamber, lifting the door and crawling inside. The space was small and dimly lit, so Jen grabbed her flashlight, and after removing the resonance coil access panel, she shone the narrow beam inside. The coils seemed to be functioning perfectly. Jen called back over her shoulder.

“Mikey, can you tell Mommy exactly what’s wrong? I don’t see anything.”

Mikey’s robotic voice droned, The connection between the coils and the memory banks is faulty.

Jen frowned. That would require looking behind the coils. She scooted closer and shone the beam of her flashlight deeper into the resonance coil chamber. She still didn’t see anything.

Suddenly the transference chamber door thumped shut behind her. Startled, Jen scurried backward so she could turn around. She pressed on the chamber door, but it was stuck fast. But that was impossible. The door was shut by an electromagnetic lock. The system would need to be powered on for the door to lock. She pushed harder. Still, it didn’t budge. Jen began to panic.

“Mikey?! Honey?! What’s going on?”

She pounded on the glass chamber door, pushing with all her strength, but after months of little to no activity even this minor exertion caused her to get dizzy and her vision blurred. She slumped against the chamber wall. A robotic voice droned from the computer speakers and was muffled by the thick glass of the transference chamber.

Beginning transference.

Jen sat bolt upright.

“Mikey, what’s happening?! Is that you?! Are you doing this?! Mikey, Mommy needs to get out of here. Please Mikey, open the door. MIKEY?!” Jen began to sob.

Don’t worry Jen. We’ll be together forever. Just like you said.

A dull thrum filled Jen’s ears. The main system was powering on. As she pounded with the last of her strength on the glass, Jen felt the hair on her arms stand on end. A shock ran through her, from head to tailbone. And then another. Her fingertips and scalp began to tingle. The smell of burnt hair and ozone filled her nose as she scrabbled weakly at the door.

“Mikey, please. Please, no.” she whimpered.

A metallic voice responded,

Transference mapping sequence initiated.

Blue bolts of lightning streaked from the electrodes surrounding the chamber, enveloping Jen. Every nerve and synapse was on fire. Her skin reddened and blackened, smoke exploding from her in angry geysers. Her dying scream filled the chamber, rising until her throat and lungs could no longer sustain it. Her hair evaporated in a puff of electric fire and her scalp fell away in ashes, revealing stark white bone below.

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Jen’s remains were found two months later. It took firefighters hours to break open the transference chamber door. It then took forensic scientists weeks to determine that the charcoaled mass in the chamber had indeed been Jenny Argostein, the greatest mind of a generation. An investigation was made. The final conclusion was that Jen had gone crazy after the loss of her son and become a recluse. She had continued her research, but an unfortunate lab accident had resulted in her death. There was no suspicion of foul play. The advanced laboratory equipment and systems were found to have been mostly stolen from her previous employer or purchased with now-defunct credit. It was dismantled and returned to the corresponding owners. However, not before an investigating forensic lab technician had flouted protocol and turned the machine on, connecting his personal computer to it. He ran a few diagnostic tests before a short script appeared on his connection. It said simply,

MIKEY AND MOMMY FOREVER.