― Mike Ericksen
I was chagrined and humiliated by the experience with Owen Collins and his lifelike fembot. If he hadn't been so damn paranoid and more up front with me from the beginning, I wouldn't have had to endure the embarrassment of taking a mechanical doll to dinner.
Okay, maybe that's a bit harsh and a disservice to the legacy of Dolores Wiltshire to reduce her memory to the status of a preprogrammed bot that creates the impression of being human. Still, there's only so much technology can accomplish and it certainly can't resurrect a great actress and turn her into a living icon.
When I eventually realized the limitations of Collin's virtual ghost, I felt I had been manipulated into believing I was interacting with an actual person.
And maybe the truth was even this facsimile of her could still capture enough of her essence to cause me to fall under the spell of her charm—and that, in itself, was unsettling.
I'm not the type to embrace the cult of celebrity. Yes, I know Dolores Wiltshire was a gifted writer and actress, but I can acknowledge that fact without doing her obeisance.
I've met many famous people and acquired a certain amount of recognition myself, but I recall what McLuhan once told me when we conversed after one of his seminars. "Fame," he told me, "is vainglory, Clay. It's simply being recognized by strangers."
He was right. There's nothing mystical about it. Dolores was a beautiful and gifted woman—end of the story. And now I simply want to close the door on this awkward moment and get on with my life.
I'd tell Dan Porter about this over drinks, but I told Owen I'd keep it confidential, so as far as I'm concerned, the case is closed and I'll keep my word.
Ironically, just as I came to that conclusion, my cell buzzed and I saw it was Dan calling me.
Before I could say a word, he yelped into the phone. "So, how did the big date go—was it worth it spending all that money at Sassafraz?
I took a deep breath. "The short answer is no. The 'date' was a complete bust and I'm sorry I wasted my time. I just want to move on and put it behind me."
"No problem. Pal. How about going to The Wheat Sheaf tonight? My offer of paying the tab still stands. What do you say?"
"Sure, I'll meet you there at eight, but Dan, no surprises. I just want a quiet night."
"I think I can manage that, Pal. See you tonight."
I put down the cell but still felt unsettled about what happened between Dolores and me, or between me and her AI counterfeit, to be more precise.
Something was bothering me I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I was far too upset by the matter especially when considering the outward facts of the whole business.
So, I was duped by Collins—what was the big deal in that? Obviously there was something deeper going on here that I was unaware of at the moment, but I'd figure it out sooner or later. For the time being I wished I wasn't so virtuous as to keep my end of the bargain when Owen Collins defaulted on his.
I really needed someone to talk to but the last person I could confide in was Dan Porter, because despite his noble intentions, he was at heart an investigative reporter and he'd hound me forever about the details.
I could have spent the rest of the afternoon writing or at least editing my last draft, but I was feeling restless and opted to go for a jog.
The weather gods had been fickle of late with the temperature in the low forties—mild for January. There had been fog the last couple of days but it was now sunny. Do, perfect weather to go for a jog.
Nothing like exercising large muscles to relieve tension and get my mind off my troubles. At least that was the lie I told myself as I changed into my running gear and headed out onto the Bruce Trail.
I knew in my gut I was running away from something, but if I were really honest, I'd admit I was fleeing from someone. I needed to face what was going on within me, except at that moment I couldn’t bear that much reality