The Dead Rock Out Among Us

I saw a bump at the top of the duvet. A familiar tiger plushie was underneath, along with a white envelope with ‘Open Me!’ written on it in black marker, underlined several times for effect.

I picked up the fuzzy toy. It smelled strongly – very strongly – of Blue. Did I want to do this?

I opened the envelope. A handwritten letter slid out, written in cursive on hospital-headed note paper:

‘Hi. Bobbi here. As I presume that you've left the facility by the time you're reading this, I’m going to say what I wanted to say to you for a while now.

‘Full disclosure: I hate your regenerated guts. I was too angry to see you after the way you tricked me into letting you stay in your wheelchair. You played me like a fool when I was there to help you. I thought we had had a lovely day together – I took a chance on you – and you rubbed my nose in the dirt, a common theme from you it seems. The damage you did to my reputation compromised my position and made sure my hands were tied, so I couldn’t protect Blue.’

My initial impression of Bobbi being quite a controlled and contained person was way off.

‘I thought your little rehab session was stupid, selfish and a complete gamble – but I’m thankful it worked out for you. Even though you do realise that would have happened with us at some stage, right? You just wanted to push us all away, so congratulations on that – we had a big send-off party planned for you, you know! People do care in this world – you’re going to find that out soon enough, like it or not!

‘What I am not thankful for was the way you said things to me about relationships – things that really got me thinking – but then you seemed to do a complete 180 when Blue came to see you. You know, when you were giving us the silent treatment – and what was that about anyway?’

You should know what it was about. I was better off without you all – and you were better off without me. Fake me.

‘There are things that you should know. Straight after you last saw her, Blue completely lost the plot, marched into a board meeting and slapped Dr Fisher in front of all the trustees. I think some of the phrases she used were: “He is not your property”’, “You’ve no right to poison his mind”, and “If this is nursing, then I’m Mini Mouse!” She then threw her medical badge at him and resigned on the spot. Blue’s already a living legend amongst the rest of the staff – they’ll be talking about that incident for years to come! But more importantly than that, you don’t have a clue how much she cares for you; how much she has suffered because of her feelings for you. Or what she’s said and done for you behind closed doors. You really have no idea.

‘In case you still care to hear, I insisted that Blue undergo extra training, while another independent conduct review is carried out. I’m determined her career won’t be destroyed because of someone she gave her all to. Someone who chickened out on her!

‘Didn’t my husband say something to you like "True love waits"? Well, after you said what you said to me, I see it differently now. True love waits, but not for ever. Because it’s not stupid. We don’t have forever, do we? Even if you have had virtually forever in your experience, the people you care about haven’t.'

Cecilia, Ma, Da…

‘Yes, we realise that it's your life, and of course we’re glad you have it. But if you tell me that you genuinely don’t have feelings for Blue or don’t want to see her – well, I know you’re lying. I just know it! I watched you for hours cuddled up together like the perfect couple (yes, that’s how you seemed to me! And no, I didn't have any popcorn, just the biggest smile on my face, ever). I’ve seen your reactions when you talk about or think about each other. Even the stats show the spikes in heart rate – from you both at the same time! You gave me great advice, but you exchanged it for my bad advice! How messed up is that?

‘You’ll find something under the bed – a bag of plushies and digital photo frames. There are some private ones I ‘created’ for you. See for yourself how real you two are! And there’s also something very special there – you thought you didn't have any old possessions survive with you? Think again. Another example of Blue fighting for you. She really went through a lot to get it for you.

‘Blue doesn’t want to pester you but I’m not giving up so easily! I apologise in advance – actually, no I do not – but you haven’t seen the last of me, Adamski!

‘Bobbi’

I folded the letter quickly and put it back in the envelope, and that went into the bedside table drawer. Along with the little tiger. Don’t think. Stay in motion. 

I peered under the bed. There was a plastic bag full of cat plushies. They could stay there.

Next to them was another bag full of digital photo frames, one of which I immediately switched on and started cycling through the stored images. Blue was smiling and cheerfully posing, members of the Facility team I knew had thumbs up gestures or were embracing each other, stern guards I had met were pulling funny faces – even Dr Fisher was kissing Bobbi, with a label on his lab coat that read “Unprofessional”. Then, pictures of Blue cuddled up to someone on the bed that I had been incarcerated in. I was surprised by a sharp stab of jealousy until I realised that: it was me. In my fake new body. Bobbi must have lifted the shots from the video camera recordings.

I felt familiar disgust and self-hate well up inside me.

That’s me but not me. The abomination. Her infatuation. At least everyone else was, in the end, genuine.

Dumping the photo frames in the drawer with the letter, I then resumed exploring under the bed.

There was a rectangular, thin tweed case about four feet long and a foot wide, which appeared marked and smelled old and musty. I had never seen it before – but it felt familiar. I slid it out and popped the catch.

Inside was a gleaming guitar – a Candy Apple Red Stratocaster with a maple neck. An early 60s model. I had no idea how I knew all that, but I did.

I picked it up. Da – Da’s guitar? Yes! In pristine condition, too. I strummed it; it was badly out of tune. I turned the tuning pegs, in what I thought was a random way, and it fell quickly back into normal open pitch. Once again, I had no idea how I realised that. I just knew: It came naturally to me.

Could I play? I looked stupidly at it. Umm…

Something came into my head. I went with it, increasing in speed, accuracy – fluidity.

Sheer happiness.

***

I was taken from my musical reverie by the sound of the delivery autovan docking with my balcony. Rushing out, I saw a chunky looking robot with orange and white horizontal stripes lugging biobags to my door. It saluted without much grace, retreated and went. I put the shopping away in my 'thermal cooling unit' – yes, I’m still insisting on calling it a fridge. The Millipede Megaquake I glugged tasted heavenly, crammed with strawberries and raspberries. Definitely on my list for good. I argued with the bin while I tried to dispose of the packaging – which impressively wasn’t that much.

Returning to the bedroom, I propped the guitar in the corner, closed the tweed case and slid that under the bed. I wondered what else I could play. Was guitar even a thing now? I searched for it on my holophone. Not really that much, was the answer to that question. It was so much easier for AI to generate music now than someone spending years studying and training themselves to be more than competent on an instrument. There seemed to be some appreciation for it in the south of Zone 1: a link for that took me to protests there, that had happened today.

Trouble in paradise? 

I returned to the front room, and voice activated the TV. Nanotech brought a 70-inch screen into being, and it hovered close to the far wall. I commanded "News," and the highlights came on – this time, with no netball scores to hear of.

A picture of me-not-me with my thumb sticking up appeared, grinning dopily – under the caption 'The Dead Walk Amongst Us.'

Ugh.