Jo M Thomas
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Simulacrum (Flash)

Simulacrum (Flash)

May 07, 2021

(Originally published at https://www.journeymouse.net/ on 24th April 2009)

Johnny met Frankie in the old library. They reached for the same paper-based book, their fingers touched, their eyes met and the rest, as they say, was history. The courtship was slow and sedate, matching their retired status and the old fashioned nature of their meeting.

Johnny was frustrated by the gentle conversation as they compared their reading patterns and the repeated cups of tea, even though he enjoyed the company. Though he was old enough and wise enough to hide his annoyance, Johnny did not feel as if he was achieving anything with Frankie until she invited him home from the library for the ritual cup of tea instead of the local café.

The house was a semi, one of many on the same cul-de-sac road. The decor was warm and friendly. A family home that Frankie had no doubt lived in for years, with her passed-on husband and flown-away children. Johnny made a mental note never to invite Frankie back to his. She would be upset by the neutrally decorated assisted flat, the implied loneliness of his life.

He looked at the family photos with interest that was only half feigned. It was important to know what the women in your life liked to talk about.

"Your daughter," he said while accepting the cup of tea, "She's very beautiful."

"Yes," agreed Frankie, her tone soft and regretful.

As she sat, her fingers brushed a small remote on the side table, nestled against the arm of her chair. Johnny noticed but tried not to show that his eyes had followed the small movement.

"Eve was always very beautiful," Frankie said, "And such a comfort to me when her father left us."

"You must miss her," Johnny said, picking up on the tone of regret.

And Frankie gave a small smile, "Not as much as I expected."

"I never had any children," Johnny said with just the right mix of matter-of-fact and depreciation, "I imagine it's hard to see them move on and live lives of their own."

Frankie's small smile grew a little watery, "I'm afraid I don't know, either." She swallowed, silent and graceful though full of emotion, before continuing, "Eve died ten years ago."

"Oh."

Less than a heartbeat later, Johnny remembered to add the traditional "I'm so sorry."

Frankie turned her gaze, lightly filmed with unshed tears, "Thank you. Her death was also a hard time for us, but she remains one of my greatest comforts."

"Remains...?"

Her hand brushed the remote again, the caress stronger than before and gaining a response. A teenage girl flickered to life in the space between them, kneeling before Frankie's chair, her back towards Johnny.

"Mummy, you forgot the biscuits again!" a too-childish voice cried in admonishment.

The girl stood and ran for the kitchen, leaving words trailing behind her dancing steps, "I'll go get us some."

When the girl did not return, Johnny asked, "How...?"

"Oh, it's not really her," said Frankie, "But it is a memory of her, a moment of her that I can treasure."

"I don't understand."

She looked at him, and showed him the remote - not quite handing it to him but holding it close enough so that he could see the smooth shape.

"She's a type of hologram, a Simulacrum. A recording held in this device."

Johnny had heard Simulacra mentioned before, but could not remember what had been said. It had something to do with families and homes, and was of no interest to him. At the time.

"I can play back so many things that she did in this house."

Frankie drew the remote back, almost cradling it against her. Johnny felt the urge to make his excuses and go but resisted.

"How does it work?"

Frankie laughed, "Oh, you men! Always wanting to know how things work. Does it matter? It just... works."

Johnny remained silent.

"Anyway, my daughter was right. I forgot the biscuits. I'll be right back."

Frankie rose and followed in her daughter's long gone footsteps.

As soon as she had passed from one room to the other, the teenager appeared again in the same position, flickering into existence. But instead of repeating her previous actions, the girl turned.

"A Simulacrum is the activation of an environment's recorded memory."

The voice was the real voice of a teenager, not the pretend child voice used when currying favour.

Johnny swallowed, "You mean the data storage in smart houses?"

But even as he spoke, the girl had ceased to be.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Frankie, teasing but puzzled.

Johnny looked up quickly from where the girl had been. He had not realised that Frankie had come back. He tried to smooth his features into charming good humour and laughed.

"Myself, I guess."

Frankie nodded, though uncertainty remained in her eyes, and turned back into the kitchen.

"Not exactly," said a male voice in his ear and he turned to find a middle aged man leaning out of the wall - the lower half of his body non-existent or in the wall, itself.

"It's the bricks and mortar," the image that looked like Frankie's former husband continued, "The rock, the stone. It records things."

Johnny stared. He was unable to make any noise, at all.

"And the Simulacrum remote can identify an individual's recordings and play them."

"And a smart house," said a girlish voice, a younger version of Eve, at his knee, "Can control a remote, no problem."

"But there's two of you!"

"Oh, a smart house can look up as many people as it wants," said not-Eve.

"And isn't restricted to memories," smiled her not-father as he leant forward, "Don't try leaving, eh? Frankie needs company."

Johnny opened and closed his mouth. He knew if he tried the door, it would be stuck.

The not-father looked thoughtful, "It's been a long time since she had company."

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