Memorial Bot E-Book

Benjamin Wrax

• Herausgeber: Clink Street Publishing
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 284

Beschreibung

Can you bear to learn about the troubled past and all the secrets of your dead lover by bringing them back to life in the virtual realm? Is the metaverse the best place to find love beyond the grave? Malcolm, a young Londoner, is forced to revisit the past after the mysterious suicide of his ex-girlfriend Leonora when he sets up a Memorial Bot to recreate her as a virtual being to heal his grief. Her past, as it turns out, is a lot more troubled and much darker than expected. Malcolm falls in love again with Leonora's virtual persona. He is a good guy at heart but in his naivety and desperation, he will do everything to keep Leonora, even if this turns him into an accessory to murder.

Leseprobe

Memorial Bot

Berend Rah

Contents

Title PageChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Copyright

Chapter 1

Malcolm could not get the images from the funeral out of his mind. They kept coming back flooding into his consciousness. He saw the flowers falling onto the coffin deep inside the pit that had become the final resting place for Leonora. Loose soil was sprinkled on top of her coffin. The flow of these vivid images seemed to be stretched out as if his memories were running back in slow motion. There came the digger driver who hastily filled the grave with soil. The smell of diesel replaced the earthy odour of the freshly dug grave and the fruity smell of the flowers, and even the lingering smell of heavy perfume was now barely noticeable. The industrial perfection with which the digger driver carried out his work, fast and efficiently, while just waiting to move on to the next plot made the scene look so ordinary. As if nobody could wait for Leonora to vanish forever. Business as usual. Not so for Malcolm.

The last time he had seen Leonora was about eight weeks ago. That’s when they had broken up. Now she was gone. Gone forever. All of Malcolm’s senses reverberated with an intense pain like he had never felt before. His eyes felt wet but he could not really cry. He was trying to fight back the pain. As soon as the grave was fully covered with soil the digger driver drove away to the next place. Malcolm felt an unsettling sense of emptiness.

He stared at the computer screen waiting for a response from the search engine. Was this the right website? He knew there were tons of memorial websites on the web. This one was meant to be special. One that went deeper than any of the others. Finally, it appeared on the screen.

There was the usual blob about keeping memories of your loved ones, preserving shared moments, having an online presence that does not fade after death. Nothing new here after all. Malcolm felt a sense of disappointment. He scrolled down the page, further down and a bit further.

Now, here he saw an interesting line:

This website allows you to create a deep profile of your loved one. You can share and cherish your most intimate memories even those you thought were long forgotten and robbed forever from your mind.

Malcolm felt this sounded a bit pathetic but was intrigued. He wondered, how on earth could long-forgotten memories be rescued from the claws of oblivion? Was this even possible or just the usual overblown marketing hype?

His thoughts returned to the funeral. Nothing about it had felt real. Katherine, his workmate, had explained the stages of grief to him. At the beginning you feel numb and in denial. You can’t get your head round accepting that you have lost someone, so dear and precious, so much alive when you last saw them. You believe the person you miss so much is still with you, somewhere and somehow. You feel that every second you are going to bump into them again, as if they have just gone on a journey and will return any time soon.

Katherine had been talking incessantly. She mentioned that she had lost her uncle and an aunt. She said she knew exactly how it felt to lose someone you love dearly. Malcolm was not exactly sure how much Katherine had loved her uncle and aunt. Perhaps, she had just been trying to sound important. She took every opportunity to be close to Malcolm and to comfort him. Her, Leonora and Malcolm had all been good friends at work. Katherine’s default mode was cheeriness and she did her best to comfort him. Underneath her chatty and upbeat surface, he could sense that she was struggling with the loss of Leonora – but perhaps not quite as much as he did.

The funeral procession had been even more bizarre. Ernest, his brother, one of the coffin bearers, had sprained his ankle the day before. For some strange reason he had decided to gather some friends to play a game of five-a-side football just before the funeral. Whatever had driven him was not entirely clear to Malcolm. His brother did not normally play football. He did not even like football particularly. Yet one of his mates had talked him into a quick game.

On the way to its grave the coffin whipped up and down like a seesaw. Each wobble was accompanied by a faint curse and a few grunting noises from a limping Ernest who was obviously in quite a lot of pain. The procession had not been under a good star. The grave had been hastily dug out mere minutes before the funeral procession arrived. Apparently one gravedigger had been on the sick and the other had overslept. The sleepy one was now working against the clock. To make matters worse, the funeral procession was hampered by a sudden torrential downpour of rain. Perhaps, Malcolm mused, this was because Leonora was not really meant to be dead. Malcolm tried to convince himself that this was nature’s way of protesting against the injustice of her early death. But then again, Malcolm was anything but superstitious. He had to admit to himself that it was easy to read meanings into coincidences, and that sometimes things just go wrong or seem strange and unexplained. The rain went as quickly as it had come and gave way to a warm afternoon sun. Malcolm deeply inhaled the musty smell of moist soil that filled the air. Then, he peered into a wonderful bright rainbow that was now clearly visible across the horizon. It had been a long time since he had seen one that big and bright. A rainbow, which appeared almost painted, and he could not help to feel a sense of wonder. Rainbows usually represent hope. Malcolm knew this but he felt anything but hopeful.

The bluish light from his monitor illuminated Malcolm’s face. The weather outside was dark and gloomy, but he had not bothered to turn on any light inside his tiny flat. He looked again at the screen. He had many regrets and felt a deep guilt which he could not really put into words. Yet, he knew this was his chance to do something positive. Malcolm had begun to create an elaborate online profile for Leonora.

At the funeral, Katherine had explained to Malcolm that there was a website where one could create an avatar for a loved one. Katherine had just read a blog about online memorials and enthusiastically mentioned it to Malcolm.

“You know, Malcolm,” she said, “this will help you to overcome your grief. You can talk to her whenever you want. Is that not cool? I know you were so in love with Leonora so I guess this will help you.”

She sounded quite emotional when she said this and swallowed twice.

Katherine, as a matter of fact, had secretly had a crush on Malcolm for a long time. The three of them had all been working for the same company and on numerous occasions had all hung out together for a drink after work. There was a trendy little coffee shop just outside their workplace, literally a stone’s throw from the office. Despite its cool modern interior and high ambitions, this coffee shop offered affordable coffees, cakes, sandwiches and even alcoholic drinks. Its slightly hidden location away from the main road meant it could not as easily ramp up its prices as did its competitors on the high street. All of this added to its charm for Malcolm and his colleagues.

Another great advantage was that Adam, their boss, would rarely come along. So everyone had a chance to talk about the things they really did not want Adam to hear. He was known for his tough and cold persona and his lack of patience. He did not tolerate any form of dissent or criticism. One was either with Adam or against him. Over the years, many of his employees had left his company due to this. Here in this little café his office staff felt safe and secure, and everyone took turns to poke some fun at him. This was not too difficult, as Adam rarely showed a sense of humour and took everything at face value.

Once an employee had jokingly suggested he borrow Adam’s Berlinetta for a quick spin on his birthday. When he mentioned that he was thinking of testing its capabilities in a mud-racing competition Adam went berserk.

“What a bloody stupid idea,” Adam fumed. “This isn’t the type of car any serious person would use for mud racing! Can you imagine the damage it would do to the suspension?”

The employee did not see much point in explaining to Adam that this was actually not a serious proposition and kept a straight face.

“But what if the mud racer isn’t a serious person in any shape or form? What if he’s barking mad?”

He earned a bedazzled look from Adam who lacked any sense of humour.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant…” Adam added slowly. “Clearly, he would be barking mad.”

This had become a bit of a running joke and everyone took it in turns to recreate the dialogue.

When it was Leonora’s turn to ask the ‘What if he is barking mad?’ question, she broke out in a laughing fit, choked on her coffee and nearly spat it out over everyone. It was a hilarious situation.

Malcolm had not been back to the coffee shop for a while. Not since her passing.

He sat in in front of his computer screen. He could not help it his mind drifting back to the funeral every so often. Funerals mark an endpoint in somebody’s life but they also mark the beginning of a new future. A future without that person and perhaps the beginning of a new chapter in someone’s life. Malcolm understood this. His thoughts returned to Katherine. In all fairness, she had never tried to come between him and Leonora, but Malcolm had always had that sense that she was not merely a colleague and more than just a friend. Sometimes, it had felt like a ménage-a-trois, with Leonora and Katherine fighting for Malcolm’s attention.

The funeral had also given Malcolm a chance to talk to Tim, Leonora’s brother, whilst simultaneously avoiding Hector, her posh ex. Tim did not show much in the way of emotion. But, as her brother, Leonora’s untimely death must have had a profound impact on his psyche, Malcolm mused. Malcolm looked at Tim’s face for a brief moment but it was hard to tell how he was feeling or coping. Tim constantly repeated how important Leonora had been to him. He talked of the huge void she had left in his life. His voice sounded monotonous and rehearsed. But this was Tim. Thoughtful but not someone to easily display his inner feelings. Reserved on the outside but in Malcolm’s opinion he was a caring and warm fellow inside.

“If Leo were here with us, we would still be a happy family,” Tim lamented.

At the time Malcolm had not thought much of Tim’s self-pitying comments – but now he was wondering how much of a happy family they had really been. He had rarely ever seen Tim, Leonora and their mother together. When he did, there had been a curious tension, and Malcolm had noticed how little they were talking to each other. Mostly, if they did ever talk, they were talking over each other. There seemed to be a void he could not fully understand. Usually, it was only at special events like birthdays or Christmas that he had a chance to see them come together as a family. This was the exception to the rule. Mostly, however, it was either Tim with his mother or Leonora and her mum together. Leonora’s dad had abandoned the family when Leonora was still at a young age. She never had a chance to get to know him, and she never managed to track down his whereabouts.

Over the last three months Tim and Malcolm had become good friends. Things had changed but this had also marked the beginning of the time when Malcolm and Leonora had grown distant, leading to their eventual breakup.

It was Tim who got in contact with Malcolm first. He rang him one evening. This was a complete surprise to Malcolm. Tim explained how much he loved his little sister and that he had always taken care of her. He asked Malcolm a few questions about their relationship. He came across as rather charming and thoughtful. Tim, it would appear, was very protective of Leonora, his little sister, as he had always referred to her. Malcolm somewhat naively accepted this at face value but never really questioned the fact that Tim and Leonora rarely met and, when they did, exchanged few if any words. As far as Tim was concerned, he was just a very busy person. He usually had a convincing excuse for not attending a family event, and whenever Leonora was missing from a party or an event he came up with a quick explanation.

“I think Leonora is really happy she has met you. Now that you are part of the family, we should do a lot more together.”

These were the things Tim would say. Not that Malcolm really needed this kind of approval. But it was reassuring that her brother was so easy-going and that he, Malcolm, fitted in so well and had been accepted into the family. Within a short space of time, he and Tim became really good friends and did a lot of things together.

They went to quite a few gigs as they shared a common interest in music. Malcolm had an eclectic taste in music. He loved R&B, Hip Hop, Grime and Afrobeat but also Heavy Rock and Indie bands. He would never sniff at an opportunity to watch a gig with an upcoming band. However, their taste in music was not always perfectly aligned. Tim was much less likely to agree on an R&B or Hip Hop act. After a short while of arguing they would usually settle on a new rather obscure Indie act that Tim had discovered. Malcolm had to admit that Tim was pretty good at spotting exciting new acts – new acts that would often become successful bands filling stadiums and selling millions of songs. Malcolm could never quite figure out how Tim managed to spot future talent so consistently, although Tim had once mentioned some insider contacts in the music industry.

There was, however, one thing Malcolm did not really understand. For some reason Leonora resented Malcolm’s new friendship with her brother. To Malcolm it appeared there was an element of envy as Tim had been a high-flier in every respect, and he also seemed to be his mother’s favourite child. She had praised him on countless occasions.

“Tim’s achieved so much. Nobody in our family before him ever got that far… I love Tim. He always knew what he wanted out of life and look where he is now!”

She never said anything like this about Leonora. Not once in a blue moon.

Malcolm thought this was just normal sibling rivalry, and Tim happened to be the more successful of the pair. Her answers were usually evasive whenever he asked her about the relationship with her brother.

“What can I tell you about my brother?” she would say with a shoulder shrug. “You’ve met him and that’s it.”

She rolled her eyes in an annoyed manner.

She said she disliked his busy work schedules and that he was never there for anyone.

Slowly, Malcolm and Leonora grew apart. One day they had a big argument. He clearly remembered the day Leonora suddenly rang. It was clear that she wanted to meet up and talk things over.

“Malcolm, you still love me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So why don’t we meet tonight. We could eat in for a change?” she suggested.

“Would you like me to cook for us?”

“I’m really excited,” she added. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I will treat you to a new recipe.”

Malcolm was every inch a foodie. He loved cooking with friends, trying out new recipes and dining at new restaurants. It was not unusual for him to invite some friends and treat them to new culinary experiences. He also loved it when others treated him to their tastebud challenges, but he had not expected Leonora’s phone call, and as much as he wanted to see her again and make up, he had already agreed to meet Tim at their favourite pub. Not only this, he had invited a few friends over to join them there, and a live band would be playing. This pub was special and many previously unknown bands had started their journey to greatness from there.

“I’m sorry, we can’t be eat in, but would you mind joining me and some friends at a pub? There’s a cool band playing.”

Leonora knew this pub very well but it was not what she had hoped to hear.

“There’s nothing cool about your cool band,” she retorted. “Also, I’ve never heard of any of the bands that play there. They’re all totally unknown. Only amateurs play there.”

Malcolm wanted to explain that there was nothing wrong with listening to new talent before it hit the top chart positions months later. He did not get a chance.

“Malcolm, I want to see you. Just you and me.”

“But I arranged this a long time ago.”

And then he let it slip.

“Tim’s coming as well.”

“Tim,” she screamed. “Why Tim? Why do you favour my brother over everybody else. Is he really that special?”

She raised her voice and there was a shrill tone. “Why is my brother coming between us? Tell me why!”

The argument became more and more heated and Leonora flew into a complete rage. In the end she hung up on Malcolm. They saw each other a few more times in the office but the atmosphere was frosty. A week later her tone had mellowed; she asked for a break, and suggested they would stay on friendly terms and perhaps give each other a second chance eventually.

Shortly thereafter, she went on holiday. She had not told a single soul where she was going. That was the last time Malcolm would ever see her.

Office rumours abounded, swirling round like the sick stench of stale cigarette smoke. Someone mentioned Ayia Napa and another Ibiza. Apparently, she had met someone new. Then someone else suggested she had not travelled at all and was hiding at home. In the end these were all just rumours. The reality was far more shocking and unpalatable.

Her funeral was attended by a large crowd. Leonora had been incredibly popular, with a large circle of friends, and even some of her old classmates attended. Malcolm knew very few of them. The funeral followed the usual ritual. Her friends would drop a flower onto the coffin and briefly offer their condolences to Leonora’s mother, then Tim and finally Malcolm, before they walked away. There was no real opportunity for a chat, and Malcolm did not feel like starting a conversation with complete strangers.

There was, however, one person who stood out from everybody else: Hector, Leonora’s ex. He was renowned for his peculiar dress sense – very formal, expensive, eccentric and a tad outdated. In Malcolm’s mind, Hector was a shadowy character who could not be trusted. He had been a regular visitor on company premises. There had been a few occasions when he and Adam had been seen arguing in the office.

Hector attended the funeral with his own entourage: his new flame, a plastically enhanced Barbie doll, and two blokes who seemed rather bored. Malcolm could not tell if they were meant to be security guards, Hector’s personal assistants or a mixture of both. The first thing Hector announced was that he could not stay for long as he had to attend important business. He did not elaborate much on what type of business he was referring to and, frankly, as far as Malcolm was concerned, he could not have cared less.

Hector could be extraordinary nosy when it suited him but mostly he liked talking about himself. Indeed, he was one of those people who enjoyed nothing more than the sound of their own voice. He could also be unpleasantly pretentious. Generally, Malcolm tried to avoid him. It just so happened that a few female friends of Leonora offered their condolences and briefly spoke to Malcolm. Tim had just vanished from sight when somehow Hector managed to bump into Malcolm. It almost felt to Malcolm as if he had been waiting to corner him. Hector had the rare and creepy talent of suddenly appearing out of nowhere and sneaking up on people. This happened again at the funeral. Malcolm had not heard a single footstep but there he was all of a sudden.

He asked Malcolm question after question about his relationship with Leonora. Malcolm felt highly uncomfortable with the situation. The funeral was clearly an inappropriate place for this kind of inquest, he thought, but there was no other place to go to. For better or worse he was at the mercy of Hector. Tim was nowhere to be seen and the flow of guests delivering their condolences had dried up. There was nobody else left to talk to and steer the conversation in a more interesting direction.

“You know, Malcolm…” he began.

This was followed by a long pause to create a sense of unease in Malcolm who feared the worst. The ‘You know…’ bit was the prelude to an onslaught with Hector’s arsenal of verbal instruments of torture.

Finally, his mouth opened again.

“You know, Leo and I had a very special relationship. It was based entirely on mutual respect and the knowledge we could always and forever trust one another. I clearly remember all the great stuff we did together. So, you know, she was very happy in my company.”

The painful monologue did not stop there.

“Was she really?” Malcolm wanted to ask but Hector gave him no chance to put in a word.

Instead, he continued his long winding speech.

“Ah, actually, I believe Leo and I meeting was the best thing that ever happened to her!”

The best thing that ever happened to her?

Did Malcolm hear right? Did he really say that?

Hector looked at Malcolm with a stern expression. This gave way to a barely noticeable sardonic smile before he spurted out a little poison dart.

“Malcolm, what was your relationship with Leonora like? Did you manage to develop a trusting bond?”

This was rather a strange question but a funeral was not the right place to start an argument, or worse even, and get involved in a fight. Malcolm did his best to keep his cool and suppress the anger boiling up in him. He was determined not to let his emotions show. Obviously, Hector was trying hard to press all buttons and provoke him into some sort of reaction.

“Yes, erm, we developed a pretty good bond, I may say,” was Malcolm’s awkward reply to this probing and extremely pompous question.

“Well, I suppose so, Malcolm. What a terrific bond. Honestly, you two broke up, I understand, not long ago. And now she’s gone – forever!” He swung his arms around for extra effect.

He stressed ‘forever’ and spoke the words extra slowly.

“She was entrusted to you, and now she’s gone.”

The way Hector was saying it reminded Malcolm of a Shakespeare play. Except the lead actor had no real talent.

This was too much for Malcolm’s liking. He could not take it any longer. He swallowed hard.

“OK, Hector, what’s your point?” he responded with barely suppressed anger.

“My point, Malcolm, is that trust can only be earned.”

For a moment Malcolm felt like punching Hector but then he retorted quickly and wittily.

“Well, I must have earned it then – but not with money.”

This did the trick. There was a baffled expression on Hector’s face. A bit like a school boy who had just been caught doing something silly and naughty. Clearly, he felt offended in some way and his ego had been deflated with one little prick. Malcolm enjoyed this brief moment of victory. For the remainder of the funeral Hector kept his wisdom to himself, and there were no further attempts at interrogating Malcolm and bringing back his own version of the Spanish Inquisition.

About twenty minutes later, Hector and his entourage made their exit from the stage. Malcolm heard some faint shouting in the distance, which he attributed to an argument between Hector and his new lover. Malcolm knew that Hector was a player but also a very bad looser ready to throw a tantrum. He suspected that Hector was just taking out his anger on his new female acquaintance and playmate.

Good riddance to Hector and his henchmen, Malcolm thought. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered whatever had brought Hector into Leonora’s life. This was a chapter she had never talked much about. It wasn’t the happiest period of her life. All that Malcolm knew was that Hector had had business dealings with a company Leonora had worked for some years before.

Malcolm completed the usual entries: one for her name, another one for Leonora’s date of birth and everything else that normally goes into a social media profile. Malcolm had probably completed dozens of such profiles in the last fifteen years of the twenty-nine years of his own short existence, but never before for a dead person. It felt strange and kind of wrong. Like a taboo that one should never break. He knew, full well, other people deleted the social media profiles of their loved ones so that they could truly rest in peace, and here was Malcolm creating a new profile from scratch.

Well, he reminded himself, at least this was not exactly social media and erasing people’s online existence after their death was kind of a second death. After all, who would go so far as to burn the letters, diaries and books of their loved ones just because they were dead? Memories live on and they are not meant to be erased forcefully. The more he thought about it the more he felt he was doing the right thing but he could not quite shake off all those guilty feelings.

His thoughts returned to the funeral for a moment. He remembered the speech of the reverend which had stuck vividly in his mind.

“When someone dies, someone we dearly love, it fills our hearts with pain and sorrow,” the reverend began his speech.

“When this is a young person, when a young person has gone from us, a young lady who had her whole life ahead of her, then it becomes even more painful. For the parents who did not expect their own daughter, their beloved child, their link to the future, to pass away untimely before their days, this must be an almost unbearable predicament.”

A long pause followed and the reverend glanced around, scanning the grieving people with his eyes, row after row. Then he looked back at his notes, pushed his glasses up his nose before they slid down once again, only for the ritual to repeat all over. He looked up another time over the rim of his glasses, facing the congregation.

“When this young person has taken her own life, it becomes unfathomable and beyond comprehension. Nobody can truly understand the pain she must have felt, or the pain her parents are feeling now.”

There followed another pause which increased the tension that lay in the air. A coughing mourner quickly received reproachful looks from the other guests and the reverend.

“Whatever her reasons…” he went on. The words reverberated in the church building, “we must learn from this tragedy and not point fingers. God’s light will shine even in this darkest hour.”

At this point the reverend’s words were nearly drowned out by the loud crying of Leonora’s mother. She could not stop herself as nothing would bring back her daughter. Leonora’s father was notably absent. He had not been in her life since he and Leonora’s mother had split up when she was just seven years old. Perhaps he had not been invited, Malcolm mused. Perhaps they had lost contact. Malcolm did not know the reason and dared not ask. Finally, someone comforted Leonora’s mother and led her to the bathroom.

By any means, Malcolm was not a religious person – at least not in the conventional sense – but neither was he a complete disbeliever. He certainly had a sense of spirituality. He had been deeply touched by the reverend’s speech, but he also felt that perhaps on countless other occasions the reverend might have said something very similar to another grieving family. Yet, he could not erase the reverend’s poignant words from his mind. These words were echoing through his head like a bad song with a catchy tune set on endless repeat.

“Whatever her reasons, we must learn from this tragedy and not point fingers. God’s light will shine even in this darkest hour.”

As a matter of fact, it was anything but clear to Malcolm what he was supposed to learn from this tragedy. Malcolm had known Leonora for a long while. He had known about her depression for some time but her problems and troubles, as far as he knew, had all been in the past and left behind a long time ago. She had come out the other end and overcome a lot of adversity in her short life. When they were together, she had seemed very happy, and when they broke up, she had reacted appropriately and with maturity. She had texted him to say that she hoped they would stay friends or perhaps come back together after a break. They had been seeing each other in the office after their big argument and been on good terms as colleagues at work, and there had never been any suggestion of the dark cloud returning. So, what, if anything, had changed? Malcolm pondered. Could it be that Leonora had been devastated by their argument? But he had seen her again and spoken to her a few more times and she appeared fine. Had she just been putting on a cheery front?

Yes, this chain of events had been truly unfathomable for Malcolm. Malcolm was wondering why he himself was now using a word as archaic as unfathomable.

***

The Thames has seen the tides and turns of history. Its murky waters have defined the history of London like no other river. Beneath its surface it still keeps many hidden secrets. Every year an uncounted number of dead bodies are fished out of its waters or swept ashore on the small shingle beaches, that only become visible when the tide is low. Others drift out into the open sea never be to be found again. Most of these bodies belong to people who made the tragic decision to take their own lives. Surviving in the cold waters of the Thames, with an average temperature of twelve degrees Celsius, is nigh to impossible. Cold shock quickly overwhelms the unfortunate victim, even the most accomplished of swimmers, and prevents the victim from swimming to safety. Drowning or cardiac arrest due to hypothermia are the inescapable consequences. What is not so clear is why anyone would seek out such an unpleasant and agonising death in the first place. Malcolm was still unsure what he could possibly learn from this tragedy.

It was Tim who had first broken the bad news to Malcolm. The police had found a body which they had struggled to identify. Bodies immersed in water quickly lose all resemblance to their original human shape. Painstaking work by the forensic team comparing dental records and DNA samples eventually identified the body as that of Leonora. Leonora’s mother had reported her daughter as missing and provided the DNA sample for the final conclusive match. The process had taken several months, and the uncertainty about her daughter’s whereabouts and unexplained disappearance mixed with the final ugly truth had completely devastated Leonora’s mother. Weeks of sleep deprivation, angst and hopelessness had aged her face by fifteen to twenty years. Before tragedy struck, she had shared her daughter’s black hair colour, but it had now turned entirely grey. Malcolm was shocked when he saw her again at the funeral. Her sunken eyes had briefly met his but most of the time she looked down, avoiding any eye contact with him or, for that matter, any of the other funeral goers. Her eyes appeared lifeless and had lost their former sparkle. She looked and behaved like a shadow of her former self. She had not said a single word at the funeral but her body language spoke volumes.

The cause of Leonora’s death was quickly ruled nonsuspicious, and suicide was the coroner’s final verdict. This decision was based to a large extent on a typed suicide note that, rather surprisingly, had been laminated and thereby escaped its destruction in the water. The coroner believed that Leonora had clearly wanted those left behind to know about her pain and suffering and her decision to take her life. He concluded the laminated suicide note was irrefutable evidence for the long process of Leonora planning her own death. Malcolm wondered what was in the suicide note but did not want to come across as insensitive and so decided not to ask anyone about this.

The preparations in creating Leonora’s afterlife profile had moved to the next stage. The time had come to upload pictures of her.

Please upload up to twenty different photographs of your loved one. The computer will then generate a lifelike hologram-like avatar.

Malcolm went through the pictures on his mobile and sent them over to the computer.

The website changed.

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