Flesh and Blood

FLESH AND BLOOD

by D.D. Miller

(Content Warning: grief; death of parents)

The weather was tolerable, so Jhn decided to walk home. 

He strolled casually through A Block, telling himself to enjoy the sun that cut through the foliage on the tree-lined streets and poked at him with little bursts of heat on his flesh. He began to sweat within a block of the Transit Authority where he worked, but he did his best to ignore it. The buzz of drones overhead was like a requiem for the lost: a grinding duet with the few birds that found a way to survive in the vast City. Autos streamed past. Empty ones slowing as they approached him, their sensors searching for willing occupants. Jhn gave a glance to the silver vehicles and shook his head slightly, and they continued their search, while others passed by filled with commuters.

Despite the sweat, walking was a treat, rare for this time of the year, when the heat, humidity, and UV index were usually so high that being outside was a discomfort, if not dangerous. It was during these heat waves when he most felt unable to leave the city: the dense heat like a blanket weighing everything down and holding it in place. Although fading, he still held memories from his childhood of family trips to large forests whose canopies of green deflected the sun’s glare. 

A dog’s bark startled him, and he turned to a residential compound to see an older woman on a small deck with a little dog about two floors up. He smiled at them, and the woman waved in response. She wore a long grey loose-fitting dress that was the norm for retirees. The dog was small, fuzzy, and mostly white with two ears that stuck up alertly. It jumped up onto the thin bars that lined the deck, barking again when it made eye contact with Jhn, and its stubby tail flickered in a muted wag. He believed the brand was “terrier,” though he thought that maybe it was a real animal. Blood pets were so rare now, but some still existed and perhaps this retiree had had the dog for some time. He stared more closely but knew that it was virtually impossible to tell the latest pet models from their flesh and blood counterparts.

“He doesn’t bite,” the woman said. “No need to worry!” Her dark skin glistened with the heat, which he could see even from street level. She laughed.

“Lovely day!” Jhn said in response and smiled.

“It is. Rare to have such a cool day in April. Otis just loves to be able to come out here and greet passersby!” She reached down and patted Otis’s head: it looked up at her, panting, and suddenly Jhn was taken back to a memory that had not occurred to him in a long while; a memory of an endless sky and cool air, the unexpected colour from thousands of tiny flowers bursting from the rugged brown tundra.

Andriya, Jhn thought. 

Yes Jhn, his personal assistant's voice gently flitted through his head. 

Please note this memory.

How should I note it, Jhn?

Memory: childhood vacation, age 9.

Done. This memory has been noted and labelled “Childhood vacation, age 9.”

He waved one final time to the retiree and her dog and continued along the final few blocks to his own building. 

•••

Andriya, lights on please. 

Of course, Jhn.

The lights came on as he entered his small apartment. It was standard City-worker issued living space, which accounted for much of the residential spaces in A Block: virtually everyone was either a current or retired government employee in the district. He had about an hour or so before Simrah would be home from her job at the Health & Wellness Authority.

Andriya, call Dad.

Calling Dad.

“Hey, Son. It’s been a while. I was starting to forget what you sound like!” He laughed and his big voice echoed in Jhn’s head. “How was your day?”
“A few breakdowns in G Block, but otherwise a quiet day at the office. How are you?” Jhn walked over to the window in his main room and stared down at the street. It was nice to see a few people out walking. He noticed one very tall man walking with a child who had to skip and run a little to match her father’s immense strides.
“Can’t complain, Son. You know. The usual retired life. Weather’s nice: only 36 degrees in April. Can't beat that, can you!” 

“It’s lovely; I just walked home. I had a question though, Dad.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you remember when we went on vacation up north, to Nunavut, when I was nine, and I got bit by that dog?”

His father did not respond.

“It was all four of us: Lara would have been eleven, I guess. I’m wondering if you remember the dog and whether it was a terrier.”

After a few minutes, his father said, “But we are not permitted to leave the city.” 

“This was before the Two-Row Treaty, about three years before; it would’ve been during the war,” Jhn explained.

“And you’re sure you were bitten by a dog?”

“Do you remember the trip?” Jhn asked.

Silence.

“Never mind, Dad. I think I must be thinking of something else.”

“Did you say when you and Lara were nine and eleven?”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m sure I’m misremembering.”

“Why can’t I recall that summer at all? Nunavut, you said? Before the Treaty?”

“Really, Dad. It’s nothing. I should go and prepare dinner; I’m starving!”

“Um. Yes. Okay,” he spoke as though straining. “Okay. You shouldn’t go hungry.”

“Thanks Dad; love you.”

“Love you too,” he said but sounded distant and upset.

“Andriya?” Jhn said out loud. He liked to speak with his assistant with his voice when he was alone. There was a certain strain that came with speaking to it internally and connecting with something that only existed in your head. 

Yes, Jhn?

“Are you able to access photos from the trip to Qamani'tuaq when I was nine?” A small bird stopped and hovered at the window in front of him. He stared closely. Its wings fluttered so fast they were nearly imperceptible. With its white chest and strokes of black and brown, it reminded him of the small birds they’d seen on their trip to the north. Buntings, he thought they were called. 

I’m sorry Jhn, but there don’t appear to be any images or logged memories from the trip in question.

This surprised him. An oversight on his behalf.

“Andriya, call Mom.” The bird took one final look at him, then turned and flew away.

Calling Mom.

“Hi Jhn, is everything okay?”

“Hi Mom, yeah, yeah, everything is fine, but do you have photos or saved memories of the trip to Qamani'tuaq when Lara and I were kids?”

“I’m sure I do, honey. Why?”

“Could you send them to my Andriya?”

“Of course...” She paused. “Is this for Dad or whatever you call it?”

Jhn hesitated. “I just realised I had no images or saved memories of it.”

“You already know I think the whole thing just isn’t right.”

“Please, Mom?”

She sighed. “Fine, fine.”

“Love you!” Jhn said and hung up before she could say anything else.

“Andriya, when Mom sends images, could you please update Ancestor AI with them?” The little bird seemed to take one final look at him before flying off.

Of course, Jhn. Mom’s assistant has already passed them along.

“Thanks Andriya,” he said and turned away from the window to head to the kitchen to prepare dinner for him and Simrah.

•••

“So, I have some news,” Simrah said between dainty bites of the fish Jhn had prepared for them. She’d been acting strangely since she’d come home. Distracted. “This fish is quite good actually,” she said quickly as if to cover up her first statement.

“It is a new product: more authentic, they say.” Jhn noticed that Simrah had not met his gaze while they ate. She studied the fish product on her plate, turning it with her fork. “You said you had some news?”

“Oh yes.” She put her fork down, placed her hands on the table on each side of her plate, and looked up at him. “I’ve been asked to join a team to go to River City to work with their Health & Wellness Authority on a project.”

“What?” Jhn put his fork down. “River City? In person?”

She nodded. “Our Health & Wellness Authorities have been collaborating on a new immersive workstation; I was selected to help fine-tune it in person.”

“This is astonishing!” Jhn said. He truly was excited for her, but he also knew that it would give him time alone to do his own fine-tuning of his Ancestor AI. 

“You’re not angry?” she asked. “I will be gone for fourteen days.”

“No, of course not. It’s quite an honour that you’ve been selected.”

“It is,” she acknowledged sheepishly, looking away again. “We’ve never been apart that long before, and we’ll miss a cycle.”

Jhn tried not to cringe. It wasn’t at all out of the ordinary for them to be struggling to reproduce, but they’d wanted to do it themselves and they were both nearing 30 years old, when they’d be assigned a Fertility Agent to aid them if they could not do it on their own. “I know, but this is such a rare opportunity; I am happy for you.” He’d come to almost dread their moments of intimacy. The hunger of their early encounters replaced along the way by the ever-growing awareness of their duty to procreate. He missed the aimlessness and the spontaneity.

“Really?” She looked back up and smiled, her deep brown eyes dancing. Neither had left Great Lakes City since the Two-Row Treaty had passed nearly two decades before. Travel passports were virtually impossible to get outside of City work, particularly to River City in the east, where the Haudenosaunee Confederacy controlled the borders and the land far more strictly for Citizens of the Cities than the Anishinabek Nation did to the immediate north. 

“Of course!” 

“I’ve heard River City is beautiful,” she said, her timidity now gone.

“A part of the ancient port survived the war. It’s been preserved. I’ve seen images,” Jhn said, but his mind was already elsewhere. He was thinking of how he could continue to improve Dad, so that their conversations would be more natural and free-flowing. Simrah was not as opposed to the Ancestor AI as his mom, but she certainly wasn’t fond of it and was not comfortable with his talking to it while she was around. Despite being an older, well-established technology, Ancestor AI remained controversial.

“And the train!” she said, allowing her excitement to show now. “I wonder what it will be like to move so fast,” she said, referring to the maglev bullet train that was the sole connection between the Cities.

He’d start with the childhood trip, he decided, and then maybe a history lesson on the Two-Row Treaty and why most of the land was returned to Indigenous stewardship. Like many others in his generation, his father had been somewhere between ambivalent and antagonistic toward it at the time, in stark contrast to Jhn and his generation. Jhn wondered if he could change that attitude in this version of Dad and erase that one bit of tension that had strained their relationship.

•••

Good morning, Jhn. 

He startled awake. “What?” he mumbled out loud.

Mom’s calling, Jhn. She’s stated “Urgent.”

He sat up abruptly. The last time she’d made an urgent call had been when his father… He accepted the call. “Is everything—”

“It called me this morning.”

“What?” He rubbed his eyes and flung his feet over the side of his bed. The time reading hovering above his bedside table said 5:45 a.m. His alarm was not scheduled until 7:00.

“It called!” she repeated angrily. “I just hung up on it.”

“What called? Are you okay?”

“I told you not to mess with this. This product should be taken off the market. I’ve said that all along too, you know. It’s just wrong, is what it is.”

“Mom, it’s very early and I really have no idea—”

“That thing you call your father now.”

Jhn stood up. How was that possible? It wasn’t, he told himself. Right? “What do you mean?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. She was struggling. “It sounded so much like him,” she managed to gasp and began to sob.

•••

As soon as he ended the talk with his mom, Jhn reached out to work to take a mental health day. He knew that there would be consequences and that he’d need to meet with his Healthcare Professional to discuss it, but he’d worry about that later.

“Andriya, has Dad tried calling?” Jhn asked as he paced the apartment.

Dad called 17 times over the course of the night, all while you were sleeping.

He’d been up until late working with Dad to update his memories and teach him some more history. It turned out Dad had little memory of life or existence at all before the Two-Row Treaty had been enacted, returning the majority of the land to Indigenous Nations; Jhn assumed this was all part of the design.

He’s calling again, Jhn, Andriya said.

He accepted the call.

“There’s something wrong with your mother, Son,” he said hurriedly.

“Why did you call her, Dad?”

“She accepted my first call but wouldn’t talk to me.”

“How were you able to call her, Dad?”

“Son, I think she’s having an affair.”

Jhn sat in a chair and took a deep breath.

“I heard a man’s voice before she ended the call.” 

“Dad, she…”

“Do you know about this? Do you? Who is he?”

Jhn clasped his face in his hands. He’d wanted the work he’d done on this version of his father to simplify their relationship, not complicate it. 

“Why would she do this to me? To us?” The anger in his voice broke; Jhn could hear the heartache.

Andriya, end call, Jhn managed. And don’t respond to calls from Dad until I say to.

Of course, Jhn. Call ended.

•••

Jhn was having a hard time keeping focused. 

Simrah’s vision was near perfect before him, almost too perfect, as if the dampness of her wide eyes was too apparent, the pores on her skin too noticeable: each strand of her hair stood out as if it had been expertly placed. He’d foolishly wondered if telecoms would be the same between cities and now scolded himself for wondering if the Cities would differ in this way, when in all others they were the same.

That would essentially be the only moment that he hadn’t been thinking about his father.

“And pulling into the city is even very beautiful,” Simrah explained, describing how the Ancient Port had been preserved and how its streets were tiled with bricks. Jhn had missed much of her description of the maglev train and its silent speeds.

His father had continued to call his mom, repeatedly. Though he was blocked, she was given a rundown of the amount of times he’d tried to call: 111 times in the previous 72 hours. Jhn had spent an hour speaking with a representative from Ancestor AI with little luck. While there were protocols in place to prevent such things, once the Ancestor got a mind of its own, it was challenging to change behaviour without a full reset.

“Are you okay, Jhn?” Simrah asked.

“What…?” he mumbled, snapping to. 

“You seem distracted.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He realised he had no idea what she’d been talking about. “What was that?”

“I was saying, the new immersible tech will have applications far beyond the Health & Wellness Authority. I can see it changing your job too, for instance,” she repeated.

His mom was a wreck. She’d only recently begun to explore repartnering, finding a potential companion a few months ago. Jhn worried that he’d set her back in her grieving. 

Jhn, he heard Andriya say. Dad is calling again. He’s marked it “Urgent” this time.

“Um Sim,” he said, interrupting his partner. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.” He saw the hurt right away and it gave him a twinge of guilt, but he pushed it aside telling himself he’d deal with that later.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again. “When I was at the port, I thought of us, of our future family. What it would be like to visit together with our child.”

“Of course. My apologies. I love you,” he said quickly.

“I love you too, but—”

Andriya, end call and call Dad. Simrah’s torso dissolved in front of him.

Of course, Jhn. Would you prefer face-to-face for this interaction?

He had avoided face-to-face with Dad so far, unsure how ready he was. Perhaps it would be best to face him. Perhaps that could change the course of things.

“Yes Andriya, please call face-to-face,” he said.

Of course, Jhn. Calling Dad.

He knew it was a mistake as soon as his father appeared before him. It wasn’t just the perfect resemblance to his deceased father that was so off-putting, it was that he was a mess. His hair was askew, his teeth clenched. He looked older, impossibly, than he’d been when he’d passed.

“What’s happening, Son? Why is your mother doing this? What have I done?” His eyes were big, bloodshot, and damp. He was in the sitting room of their family home, the one his mom still occupied, and Jhn suddenly felt great regret for programming him to be there in this simulacrum of their old life.

“Dad, listen,” Jhn said, but quickly realised that he did not know what to say next. 

“There’s another man, right? That’s it. She’s found someone better….” He ran his hands through his thinning grey hair and scratched his scalp violently and muttered under his breath.

He’d never seen his dad so out of control. This was not the father that Jhn knew. This was not his father. “What was that, Dad?” 

“Where are you?” he muttered. “Why am I here alone?” His arms fell to his sides and then he looked back at his son. “What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it,” Jhn began as his father held his hands palm-up in front of himself and examined them, then looked around again at their home, locked in time. His hands fell from Jhn’s sight, and he sat straight, his face shifting from pained to placid; his eyes which had been dancing, now calmed.

“Am I dead, Son?” he asked, and Jhn gasped. They stared at each other as Jhn searched for words. “Did I die?”

Then once again his hands came to his face, but less frantic this time, and he covered his face with his wrinkled, veined hands and he wept.

•••

Simrah is unavailable, Jhn. But she has left a note.

“Play note please, Andriya.”

Of course, Jhn. Note: “Just wanted to let you know that we’re going out dancing with our River City colleagues tonight: I’ll alert Andriya when I’m in for the night, but don’t wait up. Hope everything's okay. I love you.”

Jhn lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. He felt exhausted but his mind raced. He wished he hadn’t been so distracted when Sim had called earlier in the day. Now his heart ached because he wanted to see her, but not on a comm, in person. He wanted to reach out and touch her face and caress it. He wanted to hold her near him and feel her warmth and be comforted by it.