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If there's one thing that should be a moment of thoughtful repose, it's visiting a loved one's grave. Unfortunately, this isn't the case for Gil Abrams. With talking lifestones, a nosey dog, and a weaponized purse, it's anything but. 

Transcript

So I decided to take the dog for a ride and visit Amy’s grave. The dog loved going anywhere, so much that as soon as he saw me get up to get ready he would start pacing around and wagging his tail. Funny thing about it, he could tell the difference between when I was getting up to go to the washroom, and getting up to go outdoors. I guess my body language was different. Like not holding my stomach and running. 

The poor old fella’s hips were so bad I had to hoist him into the TerraCrawler myself. Mind you, mine weren’t the greatest either, but in dog years he was my elder. I was old, but he was ancient. The vet said that he was the oldest dog he had ever seen, and that he could get around at all was kind of a miracle. All his teeth were missing, except one —the dog, not the vet. I said as long as he could get to his bowl I wouldn’t think about putting him down. I don’t believe in keeping a dog alive and doped up on drugs, but as long as he kept wagging his tail, and could still get around, then I didn’t mind him being a little cripple. 

I wondered how long it would be before some rich man gave the shot to his dog. Did it only work on people? I didn’t have a clue. 

It was raining by the time we got to the grave, even though my palm didn’t call for it. Being in a graveyard with the drizzle pouring down is what Park would call “poetic.”

It didn’t take long to get there. I live fairly close. When I got Dan out of the TerraCrawler he went straight to Amy’s grave and waited for me. I don’t know how he figured it out because it was the first time I was there since the funeral, and the dog wasn’t at the funeral. I wanted to take him at the time, but I already mentioned his bad habit. And considering a lot of women wear dresses at funerals it probably wasn’t a great idea.  

To my surprise the mound of dirt Amy was lying under still hadn’t completely settled. But her lifestone, with that decades-old feed slowly scrolling up the front made it clear it could be no one else. She certainly loved those inspirational quotes. Every second post was one. Like the one that was scrolling up now from April 11, 2021: 

“Fish don’t fry in the kitchen.

Beans don’t burn on the grill.

Took a whole lot of trying.

Just to get up that hill.”

-Abraham Lincoln

Wise words. 

I had just wanted to engrave her face on the front, but poor Amy insisted it had to be a lifestone. We couldn’t really afford it, but how was I supposed to say no to my dying wife? I ordered it on Amazon and you know it took three full days to arrive? Three days! So much for customer service. I mean, I know it was a two-hundred-pound slab of granite with an embedded computer screen, but three days is a bit much. There was a time when I would have gotten it early the next morning, but that damn war was still slowing everything around the world to a crawl. Which didn’t make much sense either, because Amazon had moved all their warehouses to Canada and Cuba as far as I knew. I think they still had the headquarters in America, but all those places had their own military units by then, so there was no danger. 

“What do you think about it, Dan?” I said. “That poor Amy is down there?”

He cocked up his leg and pissed on her grave. 

“Get out of that!” I yelled and ran over to push him away, but I slipped on wet grass and fell on top of the grave myself. With the rain coming down and the dirt still soft I got in some awful state. But to my own surprise I started laughing, and Dan came over and started licking my face. I pushed him away, laughing harder than ever, but then it turned into sobs. I wasn’t crying out of sadness as much as from the tender-sweet idea that Amy was somewhere staring at us and shaking her head, tutting and muttering. She was no saint to live with, but I miss her. 

“I knows you wouldn’t be alright with what I’m doing if you was alive,” I said to the lifestone. “And I knows you really wouldn’t approve of what I’m thinking about doing. Even if it is a dear price. The only way you’d approve is if it was to help Melvin like I did the other night. You wouldn’t have only been alright with it, you would have forced me to help. Melvin came before everything. But I can understand that. You’re his mother. You were his mother. Whatever, you knows what I means.”

Then I remembered that I actually could have a conversation with her if I wanted. It came with the burial package. I wouldn’t be talking to the real her of course, but a computer imitating her. All I had to do was say her name and that I was ready to talk, and then the password. Of course some people forgot to turn it off when they left the graveyard so the lifestones would be left chatting away with whoever walked by or left arguing with each other. Nancy and Ryan Golsey were married and they had a twin lifestone. Someone left it on and all they did was argue with each other all day and all night long, like they did in real life. I don’t know how they stayed together. Anyway, someone complained and Ryan had to go switch them off. See he wasn’t even dead yet. He just had it ready. Most people cremate themselves now anyway. Not that you can’t get talking urns. 

As for me I had no intentions of ever using Amy’s, but I was feeling particularly lonely that day, and I just wanted to hear her voice again. A moment of weakness I guess. Obviously it wasn’t really her, but a picture of someone isn’t the real version of them either, so what’s the difference? 

It gave me a warning about only being a representation of her, and I should be careful that it didn’t interfere with the grieving process, that it was only supposed to be a comforting reminder of past life. I agreed to all the stipulations and user agreements —yes, yes, yes, and so on. Finally I got to the point where all I had to do was say was, “Amy Suzanne Abrams, I am ready to talk. Password: one two three four five six seven.”

Silence. 

“Leave me alone, Gil, I’m trying to sleep. You’d wake me up talking no matter what time you went to bed when I was alive, and now I’m dead and you still won't shut up.”

Tears filled my eyes. It was too real.  

“You still contrary?” I said, trying not to cry again. “I figured dying might lighten you up a bit.” 

“How can I not be contrary? I’m dead.” 

“Well, I assumed you were in heaven.”

“I’m not supposed to talk about that stuff with you.”

“Okay. I’m sorry about the dog by the way.” 

“What did that pain in the arse do now?” 

“He just peed on your grave.” 

“What? Why are you laughing then?”  

“Oh I don’t know. Of all the things he could do…” 

“I knew damn well that nuisance was going to outlive me. He’ll be pissing on both our graves yet.”

“I hope so.”

“Why did you come here in the rain anyway? If you catches a cold you knows I wont be there to baby you. You got that forgot?” 

“I wouldn’t be here if I had it forgot.”

The dog was staring up at me then. Twisting his head to one side, looking at the granite slab, and back to me, trying to figure out who in the name of God I was talking to. Then he looked behind it expecting to see her maybe. He whined. 

“I’m thinking about getting into a nasty racket,” I said. “I can’t even believe it myself, but I needs the money worse than I ever needed it in my life.” 

“What in the name of God do a man your age need money that bad for?” 

“See…there’s a new drug out that can help you live forever. Well, it’s not really a drug. More like tiny machines, or computer chips, or robots or something —I watched a video on it but I can’t pick no sense to it. Anyway, it’s in a shot. And when you takes it it makes you go back to having the body of a twenty-five-year-old. Even saying it out loud sounds off the wall, but apparently it’s real. I seen it with my own two eyes, and I was even talking to Aron Bekker. That part seems like a dream now...” 

“Mind now you wouldn’t talking to God himself.” 

“I was! He told me that if I could save up a million yuan then he would let me skip the queue and have the shot. He told me I have one year to do it.” 

“That was Melvin or Park playing a prank on you.” 

“Nope. It wasn’t…now yes, it is something like they would do, but this was no prank. I was talking to the real man.” 

“How do you know? Have he called you back since?” 

I didn’t want to answer that. He didn’t call me back. I had not heard a word. Could it have actually been a prank? Or a scam? It certainly wasn’t Melvin’s voice, but it could have been one of his buddies. No, even Melvin wouldn’t have held on this long, especially knowing that I was going to sell my house to pay for it. I would have bet my life that I was talking to Mr. Bekker, but with the passing of time I wasn’t so sure. His voice wasn’t as clear to me as I wished I remembered. I couldn’t remember the whole conversation anymore either. My memory had never been great, but ever since seventy it was ridiculously bad. I used to take pills for it, but I kept forgetting where I put them. 

“It wasn’t a prank,” I said. 

“You don’t sound so sure anymore. Maybe someone wanted you to sell your house.” 

“You’re just getting on with foolishness now. I was talking to Aron Bekker and that’s all there is to it.” 

“How did you think you’re going to raise a million yuan anyway?”

”Sell the house.”

“What? Not on my life you wont!” 

“Okay,” I said. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” 

“What good is that house going to be if I’m not around to enjoy it?” 

“That’s not the point.”

“It kills me that you’re gone, but I don’t want to die if I can help it. I don’t want to live forever either. Except when I’m in heaven. But now that I got a chance to keep going I can see all these things that I never got a chance to do laid out before me. Maybe I still won't get to do some of them, but maybe some of them I will. I never got to walk the Jesus trail for one. 

“Mind your mouth. What trail?” 

“It’s called the Jesus Trail. It leads through the areas of Jesus’ ministry in Israel.” 

“Oh my, the stuff you gets in your head. You could get shot if you goes over there sure.” 

“No, that’s all over now. I remembers when I was young there was things I wanted to do, but life just kind of got in the way. Getting married, raising up Melvin — God knows he was a handful — striving to make a living…”

“Got in the way? Sure that’s what life is supposed to be about isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s not only about that. I shouldn’t have give up on everything. I always wanted to start my own business. But I never did that either.” 

 She laughed. “You wouldn’t run a bake sale. Sure I told you a thousand times, being cheap don’t mean you’d be good at business. You needs to have a mind for it.” 

“No, you don’t have a mind for it! Didn’t.” I shouted, pointing at the headstone. “I was the one that scrimped and saved so we could have a house and a car out by the door! While you blew every damn cent you had on Melvin when he came bawling to you for help! Wait…how do you know I’m cheap? I mean, that she used to say I was cheap. I’m not cheap.” 

“What? I lived with you most of my life. How would I not know?”

“No, I mean, how do you, as in the AI, know that?” 

“Boy your memory isn’t getting any better, I know that much. It uploaded all the logs from my shadow. That’s the whole point of it.”   

Dan got bored of looking for Amy inside the headstone, and went off to explore. The graveyard is up a slight grade and because a lot of people are being cremated now the headstones that are being put up certainly aren’t getting any smaller. So what I’m trying to get at is that poor Delilah didn’t know Dan was anywhere handy.  

Oh my, poor ol’ Dan. He really doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong you know. That’s how dogs greet each other, so why not everything else with legs? Even if it only walked on two and wore beige slacks. I yelled at him to come back, but he didn’t listen of course. He didn’t listen to anyone when it came to a new crotch to sniff. Although hers wasn’t new in either sense, but he seemed to like her fragrance more than most. This was the only time I was glad he was cripple because he couldn’t move as fast. And unlike when she was out in her garden, this time she was carrying two weapons, her purse, and a bouquet. She swatted at him with the bouquet, until it was all torn to pieces with pedals fluttering all over Dan and the ground, and this upset her even more, so she started in on him with her purse. Then when I got close to get the dog off of her, she started in on me with her purse, over my head. Even an elderly woman can get a decent swing with those straps and momentum. She must have had a five pound rock inside of it for just such an occasion. With any other dog this could have been a dangerous moment, because many dogs will get violent if they think their master is being physically attacked. So I guess Dan just considered me more of a roommate than a master, because he just took advantage of my beating for better access. 

When I finally got away from her, and got the dog back inside the TerraCrawler with the doors closed, she was crying, and I felt like two cents. She was mostly crying about the ruined bouquet that she paid a lot of money for, so I told her to buy another and I would pay for it. I told her she could buy one twice as big as the one she bought.

“No! That’s it!” she said. “That’s it, I’ve had enough! I’m calling the police. That was the last straw.” 

“But I said I’d buy you another bouquet,” I said. 

“You can buy all the flowers you want, Gil. That darn dog has abused me one too many times. When will you dog owners take responsibility for your pets and put them on a leash like you’re supposed to? You’re very selfish people, you know that?”

“But I didn’t hear you coming, Delilah. Please don’t call the cops. There’s no need.”

“Sorry,” she said, holding up her hand. Then, “Suzanne! Suzanne!” 

I continued to plead with her. 

“Susana! Sandy? Sarah? Sarah!” she yelled at her palm. “I can’t ever remember that damn name!” 

“Yes, Delilah. Anything I can help you with?” the voice in her purse said. 

“Call the police.” She looked me straight in the eyes. “Now.” 

“Not a problem, Delilah. Would you like me to talk to them or you?” 

“Me.”

“Are you okay? Is there an emergency?” 

“Not an emergency, Sarah, but I must talk to a police officer.” 

“Calling now.”

I shrugged and turned around to head back to the TerraCrawler. I was afraid, but I tried not to show it. It had been over a week since I smuggled the Americans, but it still scared me to think that the police would be around, maybe even in my house. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she said. 

“Home, I guess,” I said. 

Behind me I could hear an assertive but pleasant male voice. “Hi. This is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. How can I help you?”

“This is Delilah Henries. I want to report canine abuse.” 

I turned around and stared at her in shock. Canine abuse? The only one abused was her. 

“Okay. Can you tell me where this is occurring?”

“It happened —wait, is this a computer or a real person?” 

“You are talking to an AI representative of the RCMP, but I am considered an employee.” 

“I can’t even get a real police officer on the phone anymore?” she said. 

“I assure you I am a real police officer, but if a human officer is needed, I will put you in contact with one. Are you in danger?” 

“Yes and no.” 

“Can you explain please?”    

 The last thing I heard her say as I crawled aboard the TerraCrawler was that she had been sexually assaulted by Dan. I should have stayed and picked up for him, but I didn’t. I skinned out as quick as I could. The whole way home I wondered in fear if he would be taken away from me. I didn’t have a clue how the law would interpret crotch sniffing. Maybe I could just say that he was an addict? I wouldn’t be lying. Then it wouldn’t be his fault, right? Or maybe the cops would laugh at the whole scenario? No, the police don’t laugh at anything anymore. I remember when you could give a dog the death penalty for peeing in the house too much (and there was always someone with a rifle who was happy to do it for a case of beer), but those days are long gone. Vets aren’t allowed to put down a dog anymore, let alone your local skeet. Now, if a dog is convicted of harming another “being” then it has to attend obedience school, out of the owner’s pocket. Everyone has their dogs under their house insurance now anyway, so it’s not exactly out of pocket, but we all know how premiums work. It’s no secret that the poor can’t afford dogs anymore. That’s a shame.      

Sure enough, before I got home, a call came in on my phone. I wanted so bad to ignore it, but then they would end up at my house, so I answered.  

“Hi, this is Constable Moore with the RCMP,” a female voice said. “Is this Gilbert Abrams?”

“Yes.” 

“We’ve got a complaint that your dog sexually abused someone?” 

“He didn’t sexually abuse her, he just did what dogs do,” I said. I could hear my voice trembling, but it sounded like a real person instead of a robot on the line, which would have picked up on it easier.  

“He did what poorly trained dogs do,” she said.  

“Yeah, I admit to that, but in the end I couldn’t stop him. I tried.” 

“Why wasn’t he on a leash?” 

“I was in a graveyard so I figured he couldn’t go anywhere.”

“It’s a public graveyard.” 

“I know, I apologized. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.” 

“She said you were yelling at someone?” 

“Well yes, my wife.” 

“I thought it was just you and the dog?” 

“It was.”

“Oh, wait, you have one of those talking lifestones.” 

“Talking who? My wife passed away recently. I’m an old man and I haven’t been well. I’m sorry. Sometimes I see her. Do you ever see her?”

There was silence on the other end and I tried to keep the grin off my face. This was the first time in my life I ever used the crazy ol’ coot defense, and from her lack of a response it was working like gangbusters. I would never have had the nerve to do it in person, but over the palm it wasn’t so hard. 

“Are you okay Mr. Abrams?” 

“Oh I’m alright my dear, I just…I’m finding it hard to adjust on my own.” That was actually true, but I made it sound worse than it was like I was on the verge of tears. 

Her voice softened when she spoke again, “I understand and I’m sorry for your loss, but you have to keep your dog on a leash. I’ve never heard of a dog being charged with sexual assault, but she could technically sue you. Or you could be charged with negligence. She said she had to defend herself with a bouquet of roses she bought for her husband’s grave.” 

“I told her I would replace them.”

“Now what if he had gotten angry when she was swatting him the flowers and bit her? Then you would have had a serious problem on your hands.” 

“He wouldn’t have bit her.” 

“We all like to think our dogs wouldn’t hurt anyone Mr. Abrams, but when they’re scared they only have one weapon.” 

“Dan don’t. He got no teeth.”

“Excuse me, your dog has no teeth?”

“Well, one.”

“Well, that’s all it takes. She also told me she knew you, and she said she had not decided yet what she was going to do, but I would advise you to replace her flowers. Consider this call a warning. You have to keep your dog on a leash when in public Mr. Abrams. We’re not going to charge you with anything, but if she decides to sue you that’s up to her.” 

I promised I would and we ended the call. Then I got Lig to message Delilah, imitating me the best it could, and apologize. I’m not much of a writer. She grudgingly accepted my apology and told me she would send me the bill for the flowers the next day. 

Something I should mention about Delilah is that I went to school with her. She was the most beautiful girl in my class, and I daresay in the school. She was a straight-A student too, and went on to become a teacher. She didn’t talk to me much, because I was far from a straight-A student, and I wasn’t exactly the most handsome boy in the class either. And I was shy. And I was bullied. Needless to say, I wasn’t at the top of her list of boys she wanted to date. Or anyone else’s list. 

I never even kissed a girl until I was twenty-eight. Now when I eventually came out of my shell I went full force and talked to everyone that came in my presence. Maybe too much. I suppose I was making up for lost time. That was about when I started dating Amy. 

Truth be told, Delilah was still a beautiful woman, and she even cut a fine figure for a woman her age. Amy wasn’t a big woman, but she didn’t really have what you would call an hourglass figure. More like a smallfridgewithtwoskinnylegsstickingoutofthebottom figure. 

I’d get a swipe upside the head if she was alive to hear me say that.