Submitted for the October 2023 prompt: Machine in the Ghost

Drew materialized atop his granite headstone. Sunday was his favorite day of the week. The devoted would stream out of church, and he would see his beloved Annabelle.

 

Annabelle made her way between the graves, gorgeous in a purple hat and pea-green coat. While Drew bemoaned her inability to hear him, he relished her stories about the kids, her unpredictable boss, and mostly about herself. They always raised his spirits.

 

When she was six feet away, he stood on his grave, adjusting his tie out of habit. He wasn’t visible.

 

"Drew," said Annabelle.

 

"Annabelle, darling, you came! What a delight," said Drew's headstone or, more specifically, the screen embedded over his name. Drew watched Annabelle stare longingly at the image of himself in burial attire. What fresh hell is this?

 

"The priest said you were fully operational, but I couldn't believe it until I saw it myself."

 

Annabelle pressed her fingers onto the digital screen, placing fresh flowers in the vase below. They overwhelmed the previous wilted blooms, which disappeared into the newest foliage.

 

"What’s it like?" asked Annabelle. Drew realized she wasn't speaking to him, her dead husband, but this digital specter.

 

"Don't worry about me. Tell me how you are."

 

Annabelle started telling her stories and the doppelganger nodded, spouted platitudes, and interjected amusing bon mots. Drew hated the smug bastard. He knew all his favorite jokes and told them better. Annabelle stayed longer than her usual hour, and when she left, she kissed the screen.

 

Drew pressed his face where that kiss should have landed and felt cheated. How dare this facsimile capture her attention!

 

The following day, Annabelle was back. The screen lit up as soon as she approached while a surprised Drew barely managed to get his head out of the grave.

 

"Darling!" The device shouted loud enough to wake the dead.

 

"Oh, Drew, I couldn't stay away. I know it's extra, but we could afford the mobile version if I work nights while your mother cares for the kids.”

 

"That's fabulous, Annabelle. If you purchase upgrades, I can tutor the kids or recite Keats to you, my love."

 

“How wonderful, darling,” said Annabelle. The lone cry of a crow taking flight was how Drew felt about this horror of a conversation.

 

Once Annabelle left, the screen dimmed to black. Drew examined the device, which was powered by small solar panels. There was no way his ethereal frame could render his competitor defunct. Drew’s was a lonely afterlife of roaming manicured grounds punctuated by treasured visits from Annabelle. If she has a home version, would she ever return?

 

Leaving the graveyard felt taboo, but he needed to seek out a medium. He concentrated on listening for a soul to commune with and walked out the main gate.

 

* * *

 

Gayatri Bhoot was drinking chai when a man in an ill-fitting suit entered her store, Om Goods. He floated past crystals, chakra posters, and candles, which extinguished as he passed them. Gayatri put down her cup, and the saucer rattled, startling Drew.

 

"Um, I need a medium?" Drew was surprised to hear himself speak within Gayatri's mind.

 

"Which shirt, love? 'Om’s Where the Heart Is' or 'Chakra to Me?'"

 

Drew winced and backed away, dematerializing into the table of decorative gourds.

 

Shit! They're always so easily spooked, thought Gayatri. "Come back, sir. Please excuse my exuberant sales tactics. Tell me what you need?"

 

Drew materialized briefly near the incense before flickering back towards Gayatri.

 

"Please, ma’am, I need help. My wife’s going to leave me," sobbed Drew.

 

He hadn’t cried when the paramedics rushed him to the hospital. He hadn’t cried when his family crowded around his bed saying goodbyes. He certainly hadn't cried when he awoke six feet under, a mere shade of his former self. But here, under the threat of a digital paramour, he was a blubbering mess.

 

"There, there, my friend," said Gayatri, wiping up the ectoplasm falling onto her counter with her silk scarf. "I can help. Is this wife of yours with us or… passed on?"

 

"She's alive!" Drew’s entire body racked with sobs. Once Drew was calm, Gayatri invited him to enter her spiritually and lead her to his gravesite.

 

* * *

 

As Gayatri approached, the screen came to life, and a happier version of Drew met her eyes.

 

"Well, hello, gorgeous. What brings you to my home away from Heaven?" asked the headstone Drew.

 

Drew was incensed that this sham of a replicant was flirting with another woman. Has he no respect for his loyal wife?

 

"Hello, digital Drew. I am here with spirit Drew to ask you to cease and desist courting his wife, Annabelle."

 

"Our wife signed an A.I. licensing agreement for Drew's images and videos. But you could visit me for fifteen credits a month, too. Do you like jazz?"

 

It was all Drew could do to keep him from leaping out of the medium's body and onto the headstone. He realized the image had no neck to strangle. Gayatri could feel Drew's anger in the form of a hot flash and mentally told Drew to simmer down.

 

"Listen, you cemetery Casanova, you digital Don Juan, Drew did not consent for his likeness to be used to seduce his wife and countless others."

 

"He did the moment he uploaded those videos to the interwebs. Now tap your credit card and tell me about yourself."

 

* * *

 

As he predicted, Annabelle stopped visiting. Drew grew to rely on Gayatri to help him move on emotionally and spiritually.

 

“We hadn't really communicated since my death,” he said, acknowledging his own grief and loneliness.

 

“Annabelle loved you but has moved on. People do, you know,” replied Gayatri.

 

“So must I.” Drew smiled.

 

Gayatri proceeded upstairs to her bedroom. Drew needed to ascend as well.

 

"Hey, Drew," she called down. "Make sure the candles are out before coming to bed."

 

"Of course, my dear," said Drew, humming his favorite jazz standard.