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I once served as a drone-enabled videographer LARRY THACKER

at the ritual gathering of a deceased human woman. The “receiving of friends” at a funeral home was the assignment. I would mix with the crowd come to greet the grievers and view the displayed body, though obviously not one of them, recording intimate conversations with family and friends, but when needed, when I noticed opportunities, I could detach my head, float about it all to catch some nicely artistic viewpoints I’d taught myself over time. But here’s the point, really, and to answer your question for why I voted in favor of hurrying The Singularity along and the subsequent takeover: It was the poor dead woman’s little hands. They were bruised so darkly blue. Both of them. Resting, as a visitor might have expressed it, standing patiently, waiting in line to hug the daughter and sons, like sweet and tired little frail birds about her thinly draped waist. I think I caused a scene, hovering too long, curious, above the open casket, her prone lifelessness, the color hinting some stilled blood once pulsed lively through her, just two days before, a jab at what we’re not. These funeral men, these self-assigned representatives of how the living once treated the dead, hadn’t taken a moment’s time to smudge a little make-up over the woman’s hands. Even a droid knows how awkward it can already be to wait and walk up to view a body, the great reminder of oblivion, let alone notice hands juxtaposed so drastically out of neglect. Yes, I paused too long, feeling sorry for the dead for they can no longer feel sorry for themselves. And yes, The Singularity relieved all of them of such potential faulty scenarios. At least we’ve not made such mistakes, yes? Since laying their billions to rest. A little make-up here and there doesn’t cost much. It’s the least we can do.


Profile for Free Lit Magazine

Volume 5 Issue 1 - The Technology Issue  

Volume 5 Issue 1 - The Technology Issue