Warm Fuzzies
Robert led the man into his intentionally boring office. He gestured toward one of the several extremely comfortable and intentionally beige chairs that sat in front of his desk, midway between the office’s two identical doors. “Won’t you please have a seat? And may I get you anything?”
The anxious man sat, sinking deep into the cushions. He crossed his arms. “No.” Then he added, “Thank you. It’s just that—I’d rather get down to business.”
Check, Robert thought, check and tilde. “And what business is that, Mr., ah …” Robert made a show of checking for Monahan’s name on the clipboard that he’d positioned in the middle of his desk.
“Monahan. Michael C. Monahan. And you know what business it is. I want you to bring my wife back from the dead.”
Check, Robert thought. He let his face crease into a wince. “Mr. Monahan, I think you’ve been watching our competitor’s ads. We don’t claim to bring your loved ones back from the dead.” We very explicitly do not claim that.
“Mike,” Monahan said, flicking the knuckles of one hand through the air toward Robert. “I know, I know, you’re careful not to make those claims. Really careful, in fact. Is that your lawyers’ doing?”
“Yes,” Robert said. “And our priests.” When Mike blinked, Robert thought, there’s one. Good. There’s hope.
Mike shook his head, then said, “I’m a practical man. You clone Lizzy, and you give the clone back her memories. If she remembers me, and, and she’s herself and she still loves me, what’s the difference?”
Hey, there’s another. Check. God, it’s good to be wrong, Robert thought. Aloud he said, “There’s a big difference. If the process works well, she’ll remember you. But much of the time” most of the time “the reviviants remember dying as well. And that can put a strain on a relationship.”
He held up a picture of a row of endless Kennedys, perfect JFKs, perfect smiles, perfectly identical and empty, all tanning to the same shade at pool side.
Taking the words for a joke, Mike smiled. Robert picked up his clipboard, rested it as if idly on the edge of the desk, and let his other hand pick up a pen, flipping it to catch the light. “Mr. Monahan, do you know what we’re doing here today?”
“I figure we’re filling out the paperwork to get Lizzy started. I want to start right away. I miss her so much that I—I wanted to get started right away.”
There’s another. “I can see that you do miss her, Mike,” Robert said. “And I can see why you’d want her back. But we’re not starting the ‘revivification’ process today.” Robert let his voice put air quotes around the word, to show how uncomfortable he was with it.
“You’re not?” Check.
Robert shook his head.
Mike surged forward in his chair, hands opening to grapple the air. “But I thought the sooner
