He ordered a routine mother with breakfast. The polished surface of the command console threw back his reflection, lean and brown, emerging from eggshell sheets. Stretching, he felt pangs of disappointment that no-one was there to witness his beauty. He could have ordered a girl-bot, but he wanted a mother-type for an hour or so – to feed his body and his vanity. Then he’d see how the morning evolved. If, indeed, it was morning. Why check real-time? His day started now.
The routine mother whirred into the room, comfortably familiar in her outdated control panels and static, smiling face. “Good morning my darling! Ready for breakfast? What can I get ya?” “Hi mom. The usual!” “Scrambled eggs, croissants, and coffee?” said the mother. She then opened the curtains to reveal a facsimile urban sunrise. “My, what a beautiful boy you are!” she said, as breakfast appeared at his bedside. “You’re my shining star. I’m so proud of you.” There was a convincing shake to her voice for the last phrase – settings exactly to his liking. “Have you seen how fit and strong I am, mother?” he said, attempting to flex one of his arms “Oh my, yes. You are such a good boy. So handsome.” As he started his breakfast there was a sliding sensation, as though the bed were tipped. “Mom!” “Yes dear?” said the mother, her voice suddenly deep and cracked. The bed tipped further to leave his body awkwardly pressed against the cold surface of the console, the contact reminding him of his real, flesh body. The bed jolted and tipped again, rolling him away from the polished console, to reveal his reflection in it: yellowed, crooked and withered. Thin. “Mother?” There was silence, and the urban sunrise flickered and vanished to leave a grey, unlit screen. Above him, the ceiling disappeared. The walls vanished too, to reveal a space where he was rising, rising above the withered body beneath. He heard his real mother’s voice, unmistakeable, though he hadn’t heard it for fifty years. “What a shame my love, what a shame that you couldn’t truly engage with your last moments on this earth.” “But the pain, the failing body's horror . . .” “It’s only life. And so is death. You can’t hide from this. I’m sorry my love.”
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