If they felt we were trying too hard for immortality with AIS, then they were really disturbed by our artificial bodies exhibit. Artificial hearts were old news, though improvements were still being made. And we now made artificial lungs, livers, and kidneys that wouldn’t be rejected by your body (assuming you were using our artificial immune system). Our artificial limbs could be surgically connected to your body and controlled by your brain. These artificial limbs and organs were more efficient and dependable than even the enhanced natural ones. We were working on an artificial digestive system that would be far more efficient than the natural one, as was our artificial blood that would soon supplement the blood in humans throughout the world, providing more oxygen when needed, rapidly coagulating injuries, and self-propelling itself for several minutes if the heart stopped. Before the end of the century we hoped to achieve one of my clone-father’s stated milestones and be able to maintain a living human brain inside a completely artificial body.
To our critics, we seemed so desperate for immortality that we were willing to turn humans into robots.
The complaints weren’t exactly a surprise. Our technology called into question some of the most fundamental aspects of our identity. The notion rooted in Christian tradition was that our bodies were an essential part of who we were, so much so that God would resurrect our bodies at the end of time. If humans were a sum of mind, body, and soul, and we created artificial bodies for ourselves, then we had changed ourselves in an essential way.
As Ingeneuity explained in our brochure and online, we weren’t trying to purge our humanity. Rather, we were simply trying to make humanity less susceptible to the inherent weaknesses of the mortal coil. Few people objected to the idea of transforming the human body into an artificial body on a per-part basis. If you needed an artificial arm, this was no sacrilege. If you needed a new liver or heart or eye, few complained about replacing it with an artificial one. So where did you draw the line? How many artificial parts were too many?
In a sort of convergent technology, other companies were coming ever closer to doing the opposite – turning robots into humans. Artificial intelligence had made tremendous strides, and high-end computers could by then process several times more information than the human mind. Some were fully capable of learning from their environment and were forming complex personalities. These companies had their protestors as well, especially at the building featuring the fair’s most popular exhibit.
The “People-bots,” as they were then called, were a joint venture between Ingeneuity’s artificial bodies division and a young, fast-growing AI company called Barebots that featured the most advanced androids ever created. There was a man-bot and a woman-bot called Elektro and Elektra and their pet dog Sparko, names based on the robots presented by Westinghouse in 1939. Unlike the 1939 Elektro, these did not smoke cigarettes. But they did talk. Not using a 78-rpm record, but instead synthetic voice boxes that could perform like our own only with a far greater vocal range.
They interacted casually with visitors in more than seventy different languages. And they were so convincingly human, several people left sure it was a trick. To prove their non-humanness, we left a panel of their cranial circuitry exposed, and the People-bots could remove their own eyes. They could also remember every face they saw and every word that was said, so if you returned even months later they would welcome you back and reminisce about your last conversation and what you were wearing. Including Sparko, who looked and acted like a dog, but then would occasionally start talking in a disconcertingly human manner. The three of them are still used at Barebots and sometimes walk the streets together as a family, stopping people they met more than twenty years ago to reminisce about that day they met at the fair.
Overall the World’s Fair was a success for our company, the city, and our honeymoon. Our wedded life was off to an excellent start – theatre, live music, Yankees games, walking arm-in-arm through Central Park as we drank in the smell of autumn leaves. There were times when I’d miss the weather, landscape, and ocean views of La Jolla, but I was pretty sure I could exist quite happily in New York.
Then again, I probably would have been happy in Podunk, North Dakota if I was with Evelyn. I’d never met anyone who embraced life so fully and seemed to appreciate it so dearly. No time was wasted whether it was spent at a show, exploring a museum, kicking back at home with a movie, discussing the nature of the universe, helping me figure out the plot of Hamlet Act VI, enjoying a hot fudge sundae at the diner around the corner, watching the rain outside our townhouse, making love at unexpected times, surprising each other with little tokens, or by saying or doing something off the wall.
The important thing, she would say, was to make every day unprecedented and memorable in some small way. She encouraged it by writing down whatever unprecedented thing we did each day. And we were fairly good at finding things. Or, I should say, she was fairly good at it, and I reaped the benefits.
Surprisingly, and thankfully, Hannah seemed to be warming to our relationship.
When Evelyn’s mother moved out to New York in early November, I was worried. But now that the marriage was done, she no longer seemed interested in breaking us up. Instead, she attempted to accept the situation and have a pleasant time with us when she visited, which usually didn’t happen more than once a week out of respect for our private time.
She did come over for Thanksgiving dinner. Her cooking was the only shot we had for the traditional turkey meal. Hannah had to bring most of the cooking accessories as well. We had packed light. I put the old family dining room table and chairs in the back of a pickup truck and packed some clothes, toiletries, and a few family pictures. Evelyn took what she could stuff in her backpack. She liked to call our sparse décor Bohemian, but I think she just liked to say that word.
The furnishings were sparse, but the table was full when Hannah was done cooking. We dug in.
“So, when can I expect some grandkids?” Hannah asked as we started on seconds.
Evelyn and I looked at each other and laughed.
“Well,” I said, “I’m afraid we’ve decided not to have any. Mark Twain once said that a baby is an inestimable blessing and bother, and we already feel blessed and really can’t be bothered.”
Evelyn laughed and I hid my smile in my glass of wine.
Hannah narrowed her eyes at us both. “Did you know that Mark Twain was born the year Halley’s Comet flew by, and correctly predicted he’d die the year it returned? He rode in on it, and rode out on it.”
“Yes, I’d heard that once,” I said as I scooped more sweet potatoes on my plate. “It flies by the earth every seventy-six years, I believe.”
“And how many times have you seen it?” Evelyn asked me. That nine-day age difference again.
I stuck my tongue out at her.
“And it’s going to be here again in 2061 and 2062,” Hannah continued.
Evelyn wiped her mouth and nodded. “And so you want us to have a baby in 2061 so he or she’ll have a lifespan of seventy-six years?”
Hannah smiled. “Well, I was thinking they could skip a couple passes. There’s no need to get back on the comet the next available time. Mainly, I’m a little worried about Adam. His biological clock is ticking, you know.”
“Hey, I’ve got my performance pills!”
Evelyn looked surprised. “Then why haven’t you been taking them?”
We glared at each other, seeing who could last the longest without cracking.
“So when do I get them?” Hannah prodded.
“The pills?” I asked.
“The babies!”
“About three months,” Evelyn answered.
Hannah gasped before realizing her daughter was playing with her. “Oh, I see. Then that’s why the wedding was so rushed.”
Evelyn and I shrugged and smiled guiltily.
“Seriously!” Hannah pressed.
“Well, definitely not till after Farewell Dolly,” I answered. We had discusse
d it a little, but hadn’t made firm plans.
Evelyn grabbed my hand under the table and smiled. “Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll be a grandmom before you know it,” she said. “Maybe even in time for them to see Halley’s Comet with us.”
Hannah gave us a satisfied grin and continued with her turkey.
I raised my eyebrow at Evelyn. There was something kind of cryptic about her return smile that struck me as odd, or maybe I added that to my memory later.
“So why the pressure?” I asked. “You’re already bored being a single woman in New York?”
It was the first time I’d seen Hannah blush. When Evelyn saw that her mother wasn’t going to explain, she was more than willing to do so.
“Actually, she ain’t that bored!”
“Evelyn, please,” Hannah said.
I looked from one to the other. “Um…so what’s going on here?”
“Mom’s trying to follow our lead.”
Hannah blushed even deeper. “Well I’m certainly not rushing into it as fast as you two did. But yes, I’m seeing a gentleman.”
“So when am I going to get some little half-brothers and half-sisters?” Evelyn teased.
“You knock it off!” Hannah cried in mock indignation.
“I’m sure I can get her a discount on an artificial womb,” I said to Evelyn.
“Artificial wombs,” Hannah said. “That’s even sillier than cloning!”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Just letting you know we can help whenever you two lovebirds are ready.”
“What a dear,” she said. “But I think by the time we’re ready to have babies, you’ll already have us all in silly robot bodies, and you can manufacture our baby on an assembly line.” She picked up her glass of wine. “Right now we’re still getting to know each other, and aren’t anywhere close to talkin’ babies.”
“But that’s the beauty of artificial wombs. You don’t have to get close at all!” I said like a slick artificial womb salesman.
“Well, we’ve gotten close,” Hannah admitted, immediately embarrassing herself and looking down at the table for solace.
“Mom!” Evelyn cried. “Shame on you!”
I threw my hands in the air. “And they talk about clones!”
Hannah made a small shrug and demurely took a sip of her Merlot, which was the same color as her face.
The rest of that evening’s conversation was less tawdry but just as lively. When it was over, we walked Hannah into the frosty air to wait for the cab. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was the first kiss she had given me.
“Thank you, I had a lovely time,” she said, holding onto my hand for a moment.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. I meant more than that she had come over for Thanksgiving.
“I just wish your mom could have been here too,” she said. “She was such a sweet woman.”
She had never before mentioned my mother. I didn’t even realize they had met each other. She hugged me again, hugged and kissed her daughter, and left.
It was the first time I’d ever felt like I was part of a real family. The kind of family I’d read about. The kind of family I wanted to be a part of.
Table of Contents
40
December flew by. With the Broadway previews set to begin on January 11, Evelyn’s days were full of special appearances, interviews, and a frenetic rehearsal schedule. It was going to be one of the most complicated productions ever staged, and the effort to get the technical aspects down pat was brutal. Evelyn was exhausted, but I knew she was excited about the previews the way her eyes danced every time she talked about it.
Hanukkah on December 7 was a rushed affair – Hannah arrived late at night and Evelyn didn’t get home till almost midnight. The three of us only celebrated for about an hour before Evelyn fell asleep. That was the night I got the last e-mail from Lily:
Dear Adam,
Hey, I’ve missed you. Can we go up to the redwoods again for Christmas? Please write soon. I really need you here.
Love, Lily
I deleted it.
Evelyn finally got a break for a couple days over Christmas. We got the hottest ticket in town – a Christmas Eve showing of The Radio City Christmas Spectacular – and we were determined to make our own big production of it. Since Hannah was coming over on Christmas Day, we decided to celebrate our three-month wedding anniversary with the show, a chocolate dessert at Sardi’s, and then a midnight stroll through the snowy “Winter Wonderland” of Central Park reminiscing about second grade.
“I was so jealous you had a clone-parent,” she said.
“Yes, I was pretty special,” I admitted. “But real parents are better than clone-parents. I’ve never felt any love for Adam-1 – certainly not like I loved my mom, or even like I’m beginning to love my mother-in-law.”
She arched an eyebrow at the last bit, but smiled. “Well, part of it probably depends on your clone-parent. But no, I guess I can’t see loving them as closely as the parents who raise you. Of course, it’s a different kind of relationship. I do feel a strong kinship when I write letters to my clone. Don’t you?”
I nodded. A soft snow had started to fall on us, large flakes floating down lit only by moonlight and an occasional old-fashioned streetlamp.
“Do you think we’ll be good parents?” she asked. “I mean, real parents?”
Something in her voice caught me off guard. “You’ll be an amazing mother.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and looked down at the gently winding path that would lead us near the park exit closest to our apartment. We were across from the large boulder I’d been keeping an eye out for.
“Let’s head over to the right here,” I said, nodding toward the boulder. “I found a great, little romantic spot just over the hill.” Another item for the “unprecedented” list. Evelyn leaned against me, and my heart raced.
I began humming the tune to Winter Wonderland, which started Evelyn singing it. As she sang about a snowman in a meadow, I tugged her hand.
Evelyn glanced at me and then looked around. A few feet away stood the lopsided snowman I’d made earlier – our Parson Brown patiently waiting for us.
“It’s a little early, but will you marry me again?” I asked.
“Adam,” she whispered, and gave me a kiss.
We strolled up to Parson Brown, and Evelyn continued singing the song until the parson asked if we were married.
I shook my head no and started to pull away, and Evelyn laughed and yanked me back. I wagged my finger at him as if I were giving him important instructions. And then I got to do something I didn’t in second grade. I kissed the bride.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too,” she responded.
We kissed again.
“I’m pregnant.”
I caught my breath and put my fingers to my lips.
“No,” she said, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “It wasn’t from your kiss, you goof.”
I laughed as I felt my grin stretch wider and wider. “Are you serious?”
She nodded with that second grade smile of hers. I hugged her and kissed her soft lips again, lost in the sweet taste of her lip gloss and the scent of her skin and the feeling of giddy love.
“Stop.”
The voice made us both jump. Twenty feet away stood Gabrielle Burns, pointing a silver knife at us.
The hallucination lasted only a second. It was Lily standing there. The knife was a gun. She held it with both hands, her elbows squeezed tight against her sides to steady herself, but the gun was still shaking. The quiet night air was broken by human laughter from far away.
Evelyn squeezed my hand. I didn’t squeeze back. I just stood there.
Lily was focused on Evelyn. “You stole him.”
“Lily—” I began.
She turned to me. “Do you know what Lyle did to me when Aunt Louise went to your wedding? Do you know?” She shook her head, fought off some tears. ??
?And he was going to do it again this Christmas. In the cabin. Because you left me again.”
She began to cry and lowered the gun a bit.
“Lily,” Evelyn said, gripping my hand tighter, reaching out with her left.
Lily flinched. The gun fired. Evelyn was on the ground, and my hand was empty.
I collapsed to the ground next to her. It wasn’t happening.
Blood soaked her abdomen. Her head was tilted askew, blood flowing from where it had struck a rock.
“I’m sorry,” I heard Lily say behind me. “I didn’t mean it. Adam.”
“Evelyn, no,” I whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” A numb, trance-like state swept over my mind. I touched her face, detached like in my dream as I placed the gun in Lyle’s sleeping hand. I saw myself place my hand gently over the blood welling up from her stomach. We should have never met. It was Jimmy Preston. His fault. He was the one that brought us together. But he was still alive somewhere. Somewhere laughing with friends. He had pushed Evelyn down on the playground, and yet he was still happy and alive. And Evelyn was…
My eyes fell to my hand now cradling hers. Her blood was on my hand. My fingers slid together, the slick but sticky liquid shaking my protective trance. I looked to my clean hand, using it to brush her hair out of her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” said Lily’s voice from behind me.
I didn’t turn around. Snowflakes began to land on her beautiful, still face. I didn’t know whether I was supposed to brush them off or let them stay.
“But it’s okay now. Now we can get married.”
I turned away from my wife, freezing Lily. She looked confused for a moment, as if she’d mistaken me for someone else.
“Are you sick?” I spat out.
“Adam, please. Now we can get married like before,” she said, holding out the gold locket from another Christmas.