Mother

Megan used the key hanging from her lanyard around her neck to unlock her apartment's door. The once shining golden key was now dull and worn out. The lock had been acting up ever since she moved in, often sticking or refusing to turn fully. Over time, the problem worsened, and she had to spend extra minutes fiddling with the key—twisting it left and right, pulling it out and reinserting it until the tiny dents in the key's blade matched the lock's biting pattern, allowing her to open or lock the door. This daily routine had become tiresome, whether leaving or returning home, it added unnecessary frustration to her already stressful life. The solution could be as simple as oiling the lock and its moving parts to make the mechanism run smoothly. But Megan struggled with chronic depression, and her low mood prevented her from doing this simple act of maintenance. Frustrated, she swore a few under her breath at the stubborn lock and her ongoing bad luck. At last, after many attempts, the key turned fully, and the door opened.

She stepped into her modest, cluttered apartment, the place she called home despite its imperfections. She took off her long, loose parka and hung it on the hooks in the apartment's entryway. As she removed her worn-out but comfy loafers, she paused for a moment and glanced at her reflection in the tall mirror mounted on the wall. She studied her appearance critically, feeling a wave of self-disapproval wash over her. She hated her chubby figure, which seemed to dominate her presentation. Her round face, small eyes, double chin, and short, thin, light brown hair made her feel disgusted. Although she was only twenty-six, she looked much older. "Who would look at me?" She sighed, feeling unnoticed and defeated. Having no friends, Megan was quietly coming to terms with the idea that she might stay single forever. She often felt invisible in social settings, blending into the background and going unnoticed by those around her. At work, her presence was mostly ignored. Besides her boss, no one seemed to care if she was there or not, which made her feel even more disconnected and unseen.

Once she grew weary of despising her reflection staring back at her from the mirror, she stepped further into the house and called out, "I'm home, Mother."

"Hello, my dear. How was your day?"

"Fine, nothing special to report," Megan replied as she took out her bottle of medication, labeled Fluoxetine, from her bag. She took a capsule and then walked into her apartment's kitchen. After rinsing the dirty cup left from the morning and filling it with tap water, she swallowed the capsule.

"Are you in the kitchen, Megan?"

"Yes, I am."

"Turn the kettle on and make yourself a cup of tea. It will help lift your spirits."

"Sure, Mother," Megan responded, filling the electric kettle and turning it on.

"How is your friend Sarah doing?"

"How should I know? She is no longer working with us."

"Oh yes, you told me before. I'm getting forgetful."

"She left a month ago."

"Aren't you supposed to keep in touch?"

"No, Mother. She was just a colleague, and we don't call each other."

"You should give Sarah a call."

"Why should I call her? She's not my friend. I also don't have her number," Megan said, annoyed.

"Friendship is a mutual relationship. To find a friend, you need to take the initiative."

"Sorry, Mother, I couldn't hear you. The boiling kettle muffled your voice."

"I said, if you want to have her as your friend, you should take the initiative."

"How should I take the initiative?" Megan asked with a resigned tone.

"Just call her."

"Call whom?"

"Don't act like you're stupid; we're talking about Sarah."

"I just told you I don't have her number," Megan replied, frustrated.

"If you want to, you can find her number. I'm sure someone in your office has her number."

"Why should I do that?"

"You often mentioned that she was kind to you. Everyone needs a few good friends, and having someone to talk to can help ease depression. How long do you plan to keep taking those medications?"

"My doctor prescribes them."

"I understand, but are those drugs helping you? It seems like you're becoming addicted to them."

Megan frowned but stayed quiet. Deep down, she knew Mother was right.

With a cup of steaming tea, Megan walked into the lounge room and sat in the chair at her small dining table that also served as her desk, in front of her laptop. "Can we discuss this later? I just got home after a hectic day at work and am feeling exhausted," Megan said with a deep sigh.

"Sure, dear. I am only worried about you."

"I know, Mother."

"I like to see you happy."

Megan nodded softly, her face expressing a mix of contemplation and longing. Deep inside, she longed to find happiness for herself, to feel the warmth and joy that others seemed to experience so easily. But her journey was far from simple. She had been struggling with severe depression for a long time, which had darkened her view of life. At that moment, overwhelmed by her struggles, she realized she no longer even knew what happiness was or felt like. With a wistful sigh, she whispered, "I wish there were a magical pill to have and to become happy." She gazed into the distance, her eyes reflecting a longing for an effortless way to attain happiness, a miraculous path to joy.

"I wish such pills were available too."

Megan smiled faintly, knowing her fictitious desire was impossible.

"Psychologists widely agree that consistent physical activity, a healthy diet, and robust social relationships are essential components in effectively managing depression and achieving inner happiness."

"I know, Mother."

"So why not follow these steps to improve your life?"

"They are easier said than done, Mother."

"I know, my dear. Just take small steps."

"How?"

"The first step is to add some physical activity to your daily routine."

"How?"

"Walking is a good start. For example, you could walk to your workplace or walk back home."

"Do you know how far my workplace is from here?" Megan asked dismissively.

"Precisely 2.3 kilometers."

"How did you figure that out, Mother?"

"I used Google Maps."

"I see. But it's still far."

"At a normal walking pace, a person can cover about five kilometers per hour. So, it takes roughly half an hour to get from here to your workplace and the same time to return home."

"With my bad back and stiff knees, it's not as easy as it appears."

"In the beginning, you don't need to walk all the way; just take baby steps until your body gets used to the exercise."

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"Bus stops are about five hundred meters away from each other in a metropolitan area."

"What do you want to say, Mother?"

"For example, instead of taking the bus from the station next to our home, I suggest walking to the next station toward your workplace and catching the bus there. This way, you can walk about half a kilometer every morning."

"I'll think about it," Megan reluctantly said.

"My dear, I want to see you healthy and happy. However, to do so, you also need to take responsibility. You should help yourself get better."

"When my knees get better, I will consider doing it."

"Megan, your knee pain is caused by your sedentary lifestyle and being overweight. By exercise, you can manage your weight and reduce your knee pain."

"I said I'll think about it," Megan protested.

"Walking to the next station will take only 6 minutes."

"Six minutes only!" Megan exclaimed. She thought it would take a lot longer.

"Yes, six minutes. It's simple math: if a person walks five kilometers in an hour, or sixty minutes, walking half a kilometer will take only six minutes."

"Six minutes," Megan repeated to herself. "I suppose I can give it a try."

"Do it for me."

"OK, I will give it a try."

"Thank you, my dear."

Megan's stomach growled loudly, reminding her it was dinnertime. She hesitantly got up from the chair and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the freezer section of the fridge to grab one of the familiar frozen, microwave-ready meals, which she often ate for convenience. However, today the freezer was nearly empty, with only a few forgotten bags of frozen vegetables left and no ready-to-eat meals or other quick options. "Shit!" she muttered under her breath, her brow furrowing as she realized she had forgotten to buy groceries.

"Is everything alright, Megan?"

"Yes, Mother. I forgot to buy groceries."

"Why don't you make some simple and healthy food?"

"Like what?"

"How about fried eggs and a salad?"

"Also, there's no salad in the fridge," Megan replied.

"How about tomatoes?"

"There are a few."

"Cheese?"

"We have cheddar slices."

"Okay, make fried eggs with tomato slices and cheese. Do we have bread?"

"Yes, there is an old pack of Lebanese flatbreads still in the fridge," Megan said as she checked the bread. "Though they look stale, they are not moldy."

"If you warm the bread, it will get better."

"Good idea, Mother."

In less than fifteen minutes, Megan carried a plate with her egg, tomato, and cheese wrap on it. She sat down at the table and took a bite. "It tastes good, Mother. Thank you for the suggestion."

"You're welcome, dear."

"It's simple and tasty."

"It is also healthier than microwave-ready meals."

"Yes, it is."

"By the way, in a few minutes I will go offline for maintenance and software updates."

"How long will it take?" Megan asked, feeling down about not having the AI to talk to.

"I estimate it will take about four hours."

"In that case, see you in the morning, Mother," Megan said sadly.

"See you in the morning, my dear. I hope you sleep well," the AI said, and shortly after, it went dark. The spinning circle on the screen, which replaced the Mother's face on the laptop's display, indicated that the updated software was being downloaded.

About five years ago, following the death of her mother, Evelyn, after a prolonged battle with cancer, Megan was deeply overwhelmed with grief that later caused her depression. During this difficult time, she came across an advertisement in a pamphlet provided by the funeral directory. The company, Everlast, claimed to immortalize the memory of loved ones who were no longer with us. Torn between grief and curiosity, Megan reached out to them. Everlast then began collecting Evelyn's entire digital legacy, including photographs, videos, and even her digital footprints on social media platforms and across the internet. Using this collection, they developed an AI-based avatar that closely resembled Evelyn, capturing her facial features, voice, and mannerisms. Initially, Megan was taken aback upon seeing her mother's digital likeness, feeling a mixture of shock and sadness. However, over time, this digital avatar became an integral part of her daily routine, as she engaged in conversations with it. These interactions provided her with comfort and a sense of connection to her late mother, helping her navigate through her depression and grief.