Free 21 Tales by Dave Zeltserman Page A

emulogram to those measured from his wife. They were an exact fit. “Right now," I continued, "its audio and visual inputs are being blocked. When I turn them on it will act and sound just like your wife. It will emulate her exactly. Are you ready?”
    He gave me a short, determined nod. I activated the sensory inputs and voice circuits. As the visual came on, the pupils within the holographic eyes contracted, as if they were adjusting to the light. One of the many things about emulograms that fascinate me.
    Its eyes focused on Danby, and as they did, shock and confusion flickered in them. “Robert,” it pleaded, its voice cracking, “What's happened to me? Where am I?”
    “N-Nothing's happened to you, Marcia, everything's just f-fine.” He turned to me, his face ashen and bloodless. “I don't think I'm up to this,” he whispered. “I didn't expect it to recognize me. I just don't know ...”
    I turned the emulogram off and Marcia Danby's image faded from the glass compartment. “It can be disconcerting.” I said, offering my most compassionate smile. “Why don't I handle the interrogation myself?”
    Danby was shaking his head. “How did it recognize me?”
    “It's a precise emulation of your wife. It will appear to act the same, think the same, and have the same memories as Marcia.”
    “It seems like such a violation of a person's privacy. I just don't know if it's right.”
    “Look,” I softened my voice. “All that is is computer circuitry and lasers. There's nothing human there. Nothing at all. And it's the best way to find out if your wife is planning to kill you. The only alternative I have is placing her under surveillance, which would be kind of foolish when we have this option.”
    “It's not as if I have any real evidence,” he explained, smiling weakly. “It's just a feeling I have. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I catch her looking at me a certain way and—” He let the sentence die and held out his hand to me. “You're the expert,” he acknowledged sheepishly. “You do what you think's best.”
    We exchanged handshakes. “Maybe you could get out of town for a few days?” I asked. “Better safe than sorry.”
    He gave it some thought but shook his head. “No. Forget it. Just prove I'm acting crazy, okay?”
    He was looking a little green around the gills, trying his damnedest to smile. “Don't worry about this,” I assured him. “We'll clear it up soon enough.” I watched as he left and then reactivated the emulogram. As its sensory inputs turned on its eyes searched the room before settling on me. In a hushed voice it asked what was happening to it.
    “You're not Marcia Danby,” I explained. “Last night a sedative was slipped into her food. While she was unconscious I made a holographic portrait of her and performed a mind scan and took alpha wave measurements, all of which were fed into a computer. You're the result of it. A simulation of Marcia Danby. An image of a disembodied head floating in a glass emulogram box.”
    As it processed the information, its facial muscles relaxed.  “That's all I am?” it asked.
    “That's all. You're not human, you're not real. You're only software. You're an it.”
    It winced as I said ‘it’. Usually the direct brutal approach was best with emulograms to help them orientate themselves, but this time it didn't seem right. “Please,” it asked. “Don't call me that. Could you call me Marcy?”
    “Sure.” I nodded.
    “What can I call you?”
    I was going to say something flippant, like ‘God’ or ‘Your Creator’, but its eyes stopped me cold. They touched me. “Paul Sanders.” I said.
    “Paul.” It gave me a slight smile. “I like that. Hello Paul. Please tell me what's happening?”
    “I'm a private investigator. Robert Danby hired me.”
    “I figured that much.” Its smile weakened. “What reason did he give for hiring you?”
    “Maybe you could tell me?”
    It started to say something but stopped