Pick a Hand

“Close your eyes, Amy!”

Maria watched as her twin sister grinned, closed her eyes, and then spun around 180 degrees for good measure. The girls’ youthful energy was infectious; everyone loved to see them giggle on the path to their parents’ garden where they went daily after school. You could hear them coming from across town, their footfalls erratic as they chased each other. Their voices would rise with excitement as they grew tired and less controlled minute by minute in the afternoon air. Today, they had paused beside a fountain just outside the garden gate to play a game.

“Closed!”

“You have to guess the hand your present is in!”

“Right or left?”

“Right or left!”

The sisters paused and Amy contemplated her choice. Her forehead wrinkled and her eyelids creased. She had just started to call out when a soft pop emitted from the nearby garden gate.

“Right!”

Amy spun around as she spoke, her brain not having registered the sound as the whirring bullet that it was. A bullet that was now embedded in her sister’s skull. Maria made a momentary gurgle, as if a word or noise had fought to leave her airway to no avail. Then, she collapsed.

Amy raced forward, her legs moving on instinct to her sister’s side. The rest of the world blurred around her and all she could see was her best friend, her sister, her soulmate, her twin, dying in front of her. Tears raced down her cheeks as she grasped handfuls of Maria’s hair and pulled her head, sticky with blood, into her lap. She stroked her sister’s cheek, rocking back and forth on her legs with her eyes squeezed shut. Words tumbled from her mouth, broken and in-between hysterical sobbing. She was so absorbed in watching the life leave her sister’s eyes that she did not register the shadow that snuck behind her sister to take the item that Maria had held behind her back.

Maria’s death became the driving force behind Amy’s life. Everything the girl did as she grew up, she did for her sister. She pushed herself in school and in sports for Maria. She learned programming and to use AI tools with the idea that her sister would have found them fascinating. She even drank for two on the nights when she went out with friends in college, and everyone who joined her knew that they would likely have to babysit the troubled girl at some point in the night. Nobody minded though, because in Amy’s quest to prove herself, to live a life for two, she had also become an exceedingly empathetic and caring individual. She was beloved by almost everyone around her. More than that even, she made a name for herself with her brilliance. People listened to her when she spoke out for humanitarian efforts, for peace from war, and, as Amy grew and the world changed, for the rights of a growing robot population.

AI took the world by storm, and it was the families like Amy’s who had the earliest exposure to the immense benefits, and detriments, or human reliance on manufactured brains. The garden that the girls had traipsed through innumerable times growing up was eventually supervised by Marcus, a gardener from one of the earliest iterations of robotic housekeeping. To Amy’s parents and their neighbors, Marcus was a quiet, focused addition to their household who did consistently good work with no wages necessary. To Amy, who saw him every day, he was a godsend with a fascinating soul and unique view of the world. It was their conversations which shaped Amy’s trust in this new race, and led to her outspoken support for robots in the face of AI’s continual advancements. She would argue that these beings are only becoming more human, and we should recognize it sooner rather than later. In what spare time she could muster from her first job as a newspaper editor, she assisted non-profits in sharing that sentiment with a global audience.

The protest that changed her life happened on July 4th, the anniversary of the founding of the United States. It was the perfect time to speak out for the rights of all souls living in America; she started at dawn that morning, walking through the streets of her capital city with a megaphone and a trail of supporters. Someone captured her on a live video camera, and overnight her words touched millions of citizens. The clip of her impassioned speech was played on every news outlet, and no one could scroll through more than a couple of posts on any social media platforms without coming across it. Some theorized that the AI implanted in the internet assisted her virality on purpose. That day, that protest, changed her life. She became an internet sensation, with a global presence and millions of followers who tuned in whenever she spoke. It was as if magic flowed through her words and embedded her empathy in everyone who listened. Researchers and anthropologists later looked back on her rise to fame with reverence, for it was said that listening to her speeches made the collective human heart grow a size larger. Amy took her rise to fame in step and spoke about Maria and Marcus often in her growing number of public appearances. Her family still treated some of her sentiments about their gardener warily, but they supported her for the sake of family. No one in their inner circle wished to be estranged from each other after going through such a horrific loss all those years ago.

It was after an especially poignant speech, one held outside of the White House and televised, that Amy was accosted by the time traveler’s guild. She had returned home sweaty but content, ready to revise her next speech, when she was alerted to another presence within the small apartment she called home. At this point in her life, she shared the space with a robot by the name of Mariella, who doubled as her confidant and maid. Amy was one of the first people to pay a living wage to a robot helper, and giving Mariella that trust had deepened their bond to that of a true friendship. Amy wore glasses that Mariella was linked to, and it allowed them to exchange futuristic text messages with a mere thought. When she opened the front door that night, a message had appeared:

“Someone is here to speak with you. They reek of nature, but have yet to cause problems. I’ll have your back just in case.”

Amy shot back a quick thank you to Mariella, and walked into sight of their visitor with prepared grace. People who remained wary of technology and AI could be distinguished by most robots because of their uniquely woodsy smell. While Amy did not have issues with many of these people, the lack of crossover in their beliefs often led to her avoiding areas where Naturists, as they liked to be called, gathered.

“Welcome to my home.” She said in a practiced, friendly tone. “May I ask your name and how I might be able to help you tonight? I must admit to being a fair bit tired, so I may ask to cut this visit short.”

The stranger did not smile or reply right away. Instead, he stared at Amy as if he knew her, and the sight of her in the flesh was both shocking and painful. “My name is Morgan. It is good to meet you, Amy.” He held out a hand, and Amy took it, giving a firm handshake. “I have come for a favor. Would you mind if we spoke over a cup of tea?”

Mariella immediately headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on, assuming Amy’s answer would be a yes. Her human companion often enjoyed a cup of tea in the evenings anyway. As Mariella crossed the threshold of the house into the adjoining room, a cold rush of air passed over the gathered beings. Amy did not realize it, but all the technology in her home had frozen, including the messaging software built into her glasses. She was effectively alone with this stranger.

“I know this can be a hard topic for you, but what do you remember of your sister, Maria?” Amy balked at Morgan’s question for a moment before answering. It was not only a difficult question because of her sister's death, but also because it had been so many years since their bond had been shattered. Most of what she remembered she had already shared with the world during her different interviews and protests. She assumed that this visitor was not looking for her to re-state the obvious.

“Why do you ask?”

Morgan nervously ran a hand through his hair. “You speak about her a lot. It seems as if you were very close - as if you knew almost everything about each other. Would you say that this was the case?”

Amy considered her response. “Yes. That was very much the case.” She replied hesitantly, waiting to see where Morgan was going with these questions.

“Did she ever mention a past life? A feeling that she was reincarnated to be your sister?”

Amy shook her head no, confusion wrinkling in her brow as if she was still a child, trying to determine which hand her sister’s gift was in.

“What if I told you that she mentioned it to me, all those years ago?”

Now Amy’s face was entirely twisted in confusion, with a strong splattering of distrust woven into it. “How did you know her? Have I met you before?” She did not reject his statement immediately, despite not quite believing that Maria would have kept any secret friends from her during those early years. Morgan’s mouth twisted into a hard line, as if he too was fighting painful memories about Maria.

“What if I told you that I knew her from another life? A life that she lived a century from now? As for your other question the answer is no, you and I have never had the good fortune to meet.” Before Maria could assume insanity in her guest, he launched into the most outlandish tale she had ever heard.

“The person you know as Maria, I first met in a previous life. A previous life that, mind-bendingly I know, took place in the future of this county. She and I were sweethearts and soulmates.” Amy coughed at that, hiding her discomfort that anyone else would claim to be her twin’s soulmate. She often, even so many years after Maria’s death, considered their bond to be that of soulmates. The sisters had practically had the ability to read each other’s minds as children, always knowing what the other wanted to play and where they wanted to adventure. She let the strange man continue, in part because she would not have been able to sneak a rebuke in with the pace at which he was telling his story. “Please understand, to tell someone about the future is a risky endeavor. While I understand that you may not believe me, this explanation is owed to you.” She noticed that his leg was bouncing up and down as he spoke, a common nervous tick. “In our past life, Morrigan - I mean Maria - was a world-renowned scientist. She worked with robots to integrate biology into their inner systems, so that they would face less prejudice in the world. She believed that if humans lost the ability to easily differentiate between the races, that we would truly be able to co-exist.”

Well, she understood where Morgan’s name had come from. This research though…it was a fun and wonderful thought for Amy. Technology like that was certainly futuristic. Assuming this man spoke the truth, she let her heart fill with pride for her sister, fighting for equality in her own way just as Amy had imagined she would do. Morgan saw the small smile grace her features, and his own expression darkened.

“It was Maria’s idea to make the jump. Without diving too deep into the inner workings of time travel, suffice to say that human bodies are unable to go back in time before they are born. Our physical selves do not appreciate the way that time requires them to bend. In her research…” Morgan took a deep breath. “In her research, Maria uncovered a truth that has yet to be discovered now. Robots truly do lack human morality. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that is able to replicate it in them.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, likely just in case Mariella returned as he said so. It was a common sentiment of Naturists, and one she fervently spoke out against because of the suspicion it left in peoples’ minds. She started to contradict him now, but he held up a hand. “I know my words will not convince you. Please, let me finish.” Her eyes remained narrowed at him, but she closed her slightly ajar mouth and allowed him to continue his blasphemy.

“Maria and I, we worked in that lifetime to stop a war. We worked to stop a war that she was a part of creating. She had an anger about the situation that festered within her for decades, more and more as we aged and there was less we could do. The guild reached out to her on her deathbed, and when the offer to rewrite the past was proposed to her she did not hesitate. When I learned that they were going to reincarnate her, I forced them to send me back too. We timed it perfectly so that her soul would look for a host at the precise moment you and your twin were born. I followed as quickly after as I could.” So many questions, concerns and sentiments of anger clouded Amy’s mind. If Maria’s soul had crash landed back in time, what had become of the soul that was originally supposed to inhabit her twin’s body? Sensing this question, Morgan shook his head in answer. She did not want to know the truth of that matter, that a replaced soul became mere particles, lost in the fabric of the universe.

“Why?” She begged, beyond curious as all of these other emotions fought for supremacy in her mind.

“We were supposed to kill you.” He stated the objective factually, without a hint of remorse.

“WHAT?” She screamed, her eyes blazing with fury. Mariella charged back into the room, teapot in hand as if she was prepared to bash in their visitor’s skull with it. The man held up his hands, a weak plea for more time.

“I know. Not a good thing to tell your host. Please, hear me out. You see the influence you hold in this time. We had to try something to change the course of history. One assassination felt like a pretty good deal.” His hands dropped back down beside him. “What we did not realize is that we were not the only ones to return to the past. Robots figured out the technology that we used almost immediately after we did, and they had significantly more luck with it. Their bodies can survive the jumps without a need to reincarnate. A member of Maria’s old research team, a robot by the name of Marcus, followed us back. He was able to cover up his differences and integrate himself in your life. You may not have even realized his influence, but he took the place of your original sister in this timeline, convincing you to follow the same path and helping you to succeed in it. He murdered your sister that day, the very day she had hoped to finally rewrite the timeline, and went into hiding until there was potential to get close to you.”

Morgan took her hand, but Amy barely registered it. “I have come here today to show you the truth about that day. I have come here to convince you to leave the spotlight and join the Naturists. We believe that your voice, and the platform you have built to this point, can be the answer we actually were seeking by coming back here. That is why we let you grow and develop it to this point.” Amy looked behind him to where Mariella glared at the man. She looked posed to attack him.

“Prove it.”

As Amy spoke those words, she felt time stretch around her. She felt her muscles contract and her body shrink until she was the same size as she had been that fateful day. She didn’t realize her eyes had been closed until she opened them to bright sunlight, and a familiar scene. A younger version of Morgan sat beside her, still gripping her hand. He pressed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should remain silent. Amy tried to avoid hysteria as she followed Morgan’s line of sight. She was looking at herself and at Maria, standing beside that beautiful fountain.

“Closed!”

“You have to guess the hand your present is in!”

“Right or left?”

“Right or left!”

The sisters paused and Amy heard the pop of the gun. The biggest kitchen knife the family had owned fell out of Maria’s left hand as she collapsed, and it reflected the rage in her calculating, dead eyes as she choked on her screams. Amy forced her body still as she re-watched an even worse version of what she had always considered to be the most horrific moment of her life. A notably human-looking version of Marcus walked past beside the youths, grabbing the knife and swiftly walking away. Young Amy had not even noticed him, but her present self stared at the bulge of a gun in his back pocket.

She looked back at Morgan, and sobbed with the force of someone whose world had just been shattered.