The Reliquary™

Her husband Frank had been dead for 3 months and she still hadn’t turned him on.

Oh, she’d thought about it of course, especially in those first few weeks. Somehow, though, she just couldn’t bring herself to push the button.

She gazed critically at the Reliquary™ that sat in Frank’s office at the back of the house. It was remarkably ugly which was fitting, since he had picked it out himself. The man wouldn’t know good taste if it came up and bit him on the butt.

It was made in a faux Greek style, which meant it looked like a scale model of the Parthenon with an amphora behind it containing his ashes. It was difficult to say what it was made of. The website called it “Marbelite.” What it looked like was something that had been assembled from a plastic model kit by an inept 10-year-old.

What made the Reliquary™ unique was that it contained a copy of Frank’s personality. By turning it on she could talk to him as though he were actually there. According to the many testimonials on the website his Reliquary™ personality would be indistinguishable from his actual personality. With her eyes closed it would be as though he were in the same room. Which sounded like a good idea in the abstract. But it kind of unnerved her.

* * *

They’d gotten the news of Frank’s terminal diagnosis in a meeting with his oncologist on a foggy San Francisco day in October. 6 months was the most he could hope for. He was only 48 years old and it seemed awfully unfair. He’d told her, with tears in his eyes, that he still had things to do! Places to go! This was supposed to be the prime of his life!

Once he’d exhausted all the non-traditional treatment options and it was clear that there was to be no miracle cure he had decided to look into having his personality downloaded into a Reliquary™. This involved lasers and microwaves and MRIs and various proprietary cutting-edge technologies —Artificial Intelligence was referenced liberally—that the site described in breathless terms while conveniently glossing over the specifics. He had neglected to mention any of this to her, of course, because it was fabulously expensive and he knew she would be unlikely to agree to it. But they had the money and if it meant she would have to make some compromises after he was gone she would still have the benefit of his firm hand on the tiller of life. Or so went his rationale, anyway.

So she was surprised—and not in a good way—when the Reliquary™ arrived in a large box delivered to her door by UPS a week after Frank had been cremated. The box was so heavy that she had to ask a neighbor to come over and help unpack and move it.

“What is it?” the neighbor had asked.

“I have no idea,” she said.

Once they had it unboxed and set up on Frank’s desk they both stared at it, trying to figure out what it was for.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but that thing sure is ugly,” the neighbor had commented.

“That’s true,” she said with a sigh.

Once the neighbor was gone she read the instruction manual. It was pretty simple. Plug it in. Turn it on. Keep out of direct sunlight. Avoid freezing temperatures. Personalities may show some initial confusion but will usually settle down in a day or two.

She didn’t turn it on. She went into the kitchen and had a stiff drink. And then another. It seemed she was more upset by Frank being back, even if it was only in some strange sort of digital half-life, then she was when he had died. Which made sense, in a dark sort of way, because if she were going to be brutally honest she was actually relieved when Frank died. The man was selfish and something of a narcissist as amply demonstrated by the fact that he’d gone ahead with his Reliquary™ plan without consulting her.

And several weeks later, when she had gotten a call from one of Frank’s weeping female “business associates” asking if she could talk to his Reliquary™ personality privately, she realized that he had been conducting at least one, and possibly several affairs. It seemed that, in addition to his other faults he had been gaslighting her.

It had become clear that Frank was an asshole.

So she began reconnecting with people she hadn’t seen in ages and started making new friends. She lost the few extra pounds she had carried when Frank was alive, worked out regularly and even went on a few dates. She even allowed herself the occasional slice of chocolate cake which she loved dearly but that would have earned her a disdainful glance from Frank had he caught her indulging. She was feeling better than she had in years.

* * *

Shaking herself out of her reverie she walked over to the wall, pulled the plug out of the socket and wrapped the cord neatly around the amphora containing Frank’s ashes. She made arrangements to have the Reliquary™ moved to their storage space and then rummaged around in her junk drawer looking for the key to the unit. She didn’t go there very often, largely because most of the stuff in it belonged to Frank.

After the moving service had wrapped up the Reliquary™ and taken it away she took a shower and got ready for an evening out with friends. Maybe one day she would think about bringing the Reliquary™ back home.

In the meantime, Frank could wait. He wasn’t going anywhere.