Mellow Cello Jazz Jello

She turned to her daughter.  "That box, there."

The daughter reached over her mother's wheelchair and pulled a box of corn muffin mix off the store shelf.  "This one, Ma?"

"That's right."

"What else do you need?"

'What else?' she thought, the constant back pain throbbing dully.  "Are you sure you want to cook for me?"

"Mama, you raised all of us yourself.  It's time we took care of you for a while."

"But I'm an old woman.  You have things to do."  She shrunk into her sweater to feel warmer as they passed down the freezer aisle.

"Mama, there's nothing in the world I'd rather be doin'."

The mother looked at the new types of frozen food she'd never seen before.  'If only I could afford a freezer of my own.'

"Mama, are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  I'm fine.  Just some old memories running their course through my mind.  You never knew my oldest brother.  He was a strong man.  He could lift anything and outrun anyone.  He's been gone a long time and yet I can still see him in my mind like he's right here in front of us... like he's just going to appear around the corner like he used to..."

"Mama."

"Uh-huh?"

"He died seventy years ago."

"Is that so?  How old does that make me?"

"Don't you know, Mama?"

"Can't say as I do."

"Do you know who's president?"

"I sure do.  The nicest looking young man.  You think he'd be interested in you?"

"Mama, I'm married."

"Does marriage mean anything anymore?  It sure doesn't seem like it."

"Mama, what else can I fix you for supper?"

"Don't fix me supper.  You just send me home with the ingredients and I'll make my own meal."

"Mama, you can't cook.  Besides, you're living with me now."

"I am?  How long has that been going on?"

"Mama, you've been with us almost ten years."

"Ten years?  Ten years?  Why, just last week you came over and visited me at my house."

"No, Mama.  That was my sister.  She came and visited us for the weekend."

"Ten years... ten years?  Well, at least I have my health!"

"Yes, Mama.  Mama, why don't you tell me more about your oldest brother?"

"Oh, your uncle.  He was smart.  They say he knew his alphabet when he was two.  Of course, I wasn't alive then but everybody said it.  He could repair cars.  He could sew clothes.  He knew how to cook but he never let on unless he was the only one well enough to cook.  Did you know he could shoot a rabbit across the yard with one eye closed and the other one blindfolded?"

"No, Mama.  You never told me that one."

"And he loved to sing and dance.  Of course, dancing wasn't allowed at home, your grandparents were sure about that.  They broke many a switch across our backsides teaching us about what not to do like dancing, chewing tobacco, drinking and swearing.  Not that we did much of that.

"No, we were pretty good children but even good children make mistakes once in a while."

"Yes, Mama."

"Not you.  I never had any trouble with you."

"No, Mama."

"Your uncle was a sight for sore eyes.  He'd dance around us little babies to stop our crying.  Later, when word of war got out, he told us that although we were his most precious treasures, he had to volunteer to fight against hatred."

"Do you remember the war, Mama?"

"Of course I do.  We sewed extra clothes, made meal packages and rationed just like everybody else.  That was before your uncle died."

"What did he die of, Mama?"

"Why don't you get us some fresh apples?  We never had apples this time of year growing up.  Tomatoes and melons, but no apples."

"Yes, Mama.  But what about my uncle?"

"Your uncle?  Oh, he was a mess sometimes.  Did I tell you he volunteered for the army of some other country?"

"No, Mama."

"He got some idea in his head that our army wouldn't send him to war so he snuck out one night and disappeared."

"You mean he joined our army and quit?"

"That's right.  They accused him of being a deserter.  But of course, we knew better.  Your uncle was too smart for his own good."

"Mama, you want some ice cream?"

"Fresh, homemade ice cream...mmm-mm.  Don't forget a box of rock salt."

The daughter grabbed a carton of ice cream out of the freezer.

"How brave was your brother, Mama?"

"How brave?  Why, haven't I shown you the newspaper clippings of his bravery?"

"No, Mama."

"Your uncle fought in two big battles, receiving medals for high honourable deeds.  They say he saved several dozen lives."

"That's amazing, Mama."

"It sure is.  Of course, that was before he was to be sent back home."

"Before?"

"Yes.  When our army got word of his actions with the other army, they got very angry.  Angrier at him, I think, than at the enemy!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it was.  They locked up your uncle in the jail of that foreign country and that's where he died.  Died while waiting to be sent home."

"He died?"

"Yes."

"Did they tell you what he died of?"

"They sure did.  He died in the worst way possible, from enemy attack.  You know if he wasn't in that jail he would have fought the enemy himself and driven them back."

"Yes, Mama."

"I reckon I'll see your uncle again one day.  You think he'll be wearing his uniform?"

"Which one?"

"Which one?  Oh, I see what you mean.  I don't know.  I guess it doesn't matter, does it?"

"No, Mama."

"You can take me back to my house now.  I love you - you're my favourite - but I'm tired of wandering this store with you while you do your shopping."

"I love you, too, Mama.  Let me finish paying for my groceries and I'll take you home."

"You ever think about having children of your own?"

"Yes, Mama.  I did.  They're all grown up and moved out.  In fact, you've got a great-grandchild waiting for you at home."

"I do?  When did that happen?"

"She's been with us for a few years now, after her mother passed away."

"Her mother?  You mean your daughter?"

"That's right, Mama.  Let's get to the car and I can tell you more about it."

"How is it that I've missed all these family changes?"

The mother reached out her robotic replacement arm and gripped the synthetic skin of the artificial life-sized daughter who had taken the mother shopping and now helped the mother into the autoguide transportation system.

Normally, the artificial lifeform (usually resembling close family or friends; in this case, the daughter) was "naturally" aged to simulate a companion growing older.  For clients who had severely deteriorated memory sets or were unable to form new memories, the same lifeform (the daughter) stayed with the client and was repaired or swapped out and updated overnight.

The daughter belted the mother into the passenger seat, put the food in the rear section of the vehicle and stepped into the "driver" seat, plugging herself into the charging system for the ride back to "home."

The real daughter was at home playing with her grandchild, sharing new memories as long as she could.

Having chosen to let her body and mind gradually fade with time, the daughter knew from her genetic heritage and mother's condition that soon she could form no new memories of her own and someone in the family would buy her an artificial companion to resemble one of them.

Even though her living will specified no artificial longterm respiratory or pulmonary care, she looked forward to receiving the kind, gentle, constant attention an artificial companion could provide, freeing the active family members to focus on the younger generation and visit with her when the companion "felt" she was in a receptive mood.

If her husband was still alive, he would have insisted on staying with her as long as he was healthy enough to take care of her so, as heartbreaking as it was to lose him at his age in the new war, she accepted her loss of him, deciding not to let the army recreate him as a companion for her while she still had new memories to form.

Sure, some of her friends' companions were almost better than the original spouses, free of mood swings and always available to meet her friends' needs, but there was something about the unpredictability of her husband's moods, mildly varying as they were, that made her smile and enjoy sharing those memories with her granddaughter.

At least, she assumed it was her real granddaughter.  These days, one could never tell, the next generation of companions better able to duplicate people's intricate behaviour patterns and learn new ones to provide small, slightly perceptible changes as needed.