The wind whispers between the cypresses and the two suns, one red and one purple, slowly descends on the horizon. The day comes to its end and many people teleport their avatars to home after a long day of virtual work. They do not. The young man does not want to return and the old woman cannot return. They are sitting on a bench and are talking.
- I really wanted to see you.
- I was looking forward to seeing you, too.
- I know, child, I know, but you could see me anywhere else.
- I like coming here. I will try to come twice a month. I promise.
- You'll try, but you won't come. Don't worry... it's normal.
Silence is uncomfortable. Reproaches are never good. The two suns goes down a little lower. Conversation resumes.
- You feel very quiet today. Is there something you want to tell me? - She looks at him inquisitively -. Skirt troubles? You can tell your grandma everything. I've lived before you and I wasn't made of stone.
- There's something, grandma, there's something. - He laughs for the first time and looks even younger than he is -. I don't know what to do about her.
- Is she... good?
- I think so.
- Well... that's the most important thing child. Beauty passes but goodness remains.
- Am I good for her, grandma? That's what worries me the most. That's what I wanted to ask you.
- You've always been good to me. Will you be good to her? Time will tell.
- That's what scares me. I think that I'm not good.
- Don't say that. It's not true! - there's a slight anger in her voice.
- My father wouldn't think so.
- He was... anything but good – there's anger in her voice.
- Am I better?
- You did what you had to do, Emil. You did it for your sister.
- But I did, completely.
- There are, my little one, there are things no man should have to do, Emil. And least of all being almost a child.
- Anyway, grandma, I didn't want to make us sad - his lips twist in a sorrowful gesture - but I don't feel like I've done very well.
- I'm not sad for me... but for you. You have to forget the past, Emil.
- It's not easy when every day I hear the same - he gestures and imitates the voice of others- Urvater, this. Urvater, that. Urvater, this other thing. - he returns to his natural tone of voice -. It is hard to forget when you carry it in your name.
- We are not what our parents did, but what we do.
- I don't know where that leaves me.
- If it help, change your name, boy.
- That would also keep me away from you, grandma.
- Memories bind you to me... not the name. But - smiles slightly - what's her name?
- Nice... I want to know who she is.
- I promise you, grandma. We'll both be here soon.
- Emil, it's getting late. The real world is waiting for you. Leave now, my precious boy. I hope to see you soon.
- Goodbye grandma, see you soon. I love you.
- I love you, Emil.
The young man gets up from the bench. The old lady's avatar is slowly fading. The artificial intelligence of the old woman continues watching his grandson using an avatar-free mode. Emil advances and deposits a white chrysanthemum over the tomb, one of so many gestures anchored in tradition that still refuse to lose their meaning. The artificial intelligence feels forgotten emotions in silence. The young man reads aloud: "Regina Urvater. 2124 – 2218”. I'll always love you, grandma are his last words before leave the virtual world. Emil, while dematerializing, doesn't want to see the other tombstone on his left. If he'd just take a fast look, he could read on that the name that he wants to forget.
"Wener Urvater. 2160 – 2214”
No artificial intelligence rests inside, only digital memories and a sad story.
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