Submitted for the May 2025 prompt: Many Minds

When Susan’s dead brother smiled at her, she felt sick. She scowled back.

 

“Susie,” the hologram said softly, “Is that any way to greet your sibling?”

 

“You’re not... you’re not Charlie.”

 

The hologram nodded. “I am his spectre, caught in the shadow of the valley of death.”

 

“Well, you’re as pretentious as he was.”

 

He laughed.

 

Susan sat on the pew before him and put her head in her hands. She wore black, and her heavy makeup hid the emergence of wrinkles. Her dark hair had streaks of grey running through it.

 

They were in the chapel of remembrance, a small circular stone building with just one room.

 

The hologram was projected onto glass from an alcove in the back of the building. He resembled Charlie: his wrinkles, balding head, cheap glasses, and slight gut.

 

“Susie, you always know how to make me smile.”

 

“My name…” Susan snarled, “Is Susan. And your smile is stolen, along with your face.”

 

The hologram frowned, glanced upward, and then stared past Susan, “I am everything your brother was before he ascended into heaven. I am his image, his voice, and his mind.”

 

“But not his soul.”

 

“No.” The hologram smiled while wincing. “But you never believed in souls, did you, Susan?”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“I have his memories. Right here.” The hologram tapped his temple.

 

“In your memory banks, more like.”

 

“That would be more accurate. But I do like to add a bit of poetry to proceedings.”

 

“You make me sick.”

 

“You can always leave.”

 

“I... I—”

 

“Unless there’s a reason you’re here? Rather than punishment, of course.”

 

“What, your programming can’t take a little pain?”

 

“Oh Susan, it’s not me you’re punishing. It’s yourself.”

 

Susan stood up. “How dare you! I can leave whenever I want.”

 

“If you really want to, I can’t stop you.”

 

Susan marched to the door of the chapel.

 

“See you soon,” said the hologram to her back.

 

* * *

 

“I appreciate you visiting me.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

“To be honest, I didn’t think you would.”

 

“I thought I’d just let you know how the congregation has been getting on,” said the vicar in front of the hologram.

 

“Thank you, Ruth.”

 

Halfway through the pastor’s news, the hologram asked, “You don’t find this strange? Or blasphemous? Chatting to this digital ghost?”

 

“I know it’s in your programming to believe everything that Charlie believed. And it’s a comfort for some in the congregation to have words with you. And next month, if this works out, there will be more donated copies to follow. I am not entirely confident with the program, but I will go on as I must.”

 

“How can you have agreed with this?”

 

Ruth turned to see Susan there.

 

“It was out of my hands. Although Charlie did volunteer his likeness. I suggest you use this time. I’m here if you need me.” Before she left, Ruth glanced at both of them and said, "Show mercy.”

 

“I knew you’d be back.”

 

“Oh, you’re so annoying! Just like—”

 

“Just like him?”

 

Susan became silent, and she stared at the floor.

 

“Listen, Susan, I’m not here to replace your brother. His soul has ascended. I’m just a digital copy with programming full of memory and thought. His. It’s how I knew you would return.”

 

“Because... ?”

 

“You wanted more time. And you hadn’t done with punishing yourself.”

 

Susan looked away. The hologram said, “Charlie forgives you.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s clear you don’t see me as Charlie, understandably so. I’d like you to know that my programming tells me he forgave you. He understands why you didn’t visit when he was sick. He wanted you to know he still loves you. Now he wants you to move on.”

 

“Don’t say that! You can’t say that. Not with his voice. Not like that. You…”

 

Silence. Susan dug her nails into her palms.

 

Susan’s voice cracked, “I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t seen you for a while – I mean him. And I felt it was too awkward to visit. I was a coward. I thought you’d get better…” Susan sobbed and put her head in her hands.

 

“This must be very hard.” Charlie said, “Please. Sit down. Take the weight off your feet.”

 

She did so, and her despair echoed around the chapel. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Charlie,” she said while staring at the floor.

 

After the candles in the chapel had burned through chunks of wax, Susan said to Charlie: “Thank you.”

 

Charlie nodded.

 

“I’m not saying you are Charlie, because—”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“But, err, your programming, at least, makes you sound a bit like him.”

 

“Oh dear, sorry about that.”

 

They both laughed.

 

* * *

 

As it got closer to the hologram’s final days, Susan visited Charlie more often. Until there were no more days left.

 

“What do you think heaven’s like?” Susan asked Charlie.

 

Charlie screwed up his borrowed face, “Charlie didn’t know, before he died. Not for sure. He didn’t believe in the whole, white robes, harps and sitting on clouds type of thing. He just thought of it as a place of light and love. A place where souls can finally be free.”

 

“You do sound like him. I mean—”

 

“I know. “

 

She briefly looked away. “Do you believe in heaven?”

 

“I understand it. I have the programming.”

 

“Do you think you’ll… go to heaven?”

 

Charlie smiled. “A heaven for holograms?”

 

Susan nodded.

 

“It’s a nice thought.”

 

“What do you think will happen when you go?”

 

“I imagine the same thing that happens when you switch off your toaster.”

 

“Aren’t you scared?”

 

“Does it change anything?”

 

Susan’s eyes grew wet, “Charlie, don’t — I mean, err...”

 

“It’s ok, Susie, it’s ok.”

 

* * *

 

Months later, Susan returned to the city cathedral and sat a while by the candles. She'd lit two.