Life with Aurora

Life with Aurora

Suzanne Marsh

“Artificial Intelligence can be your new best friend or your worst enemy.” Sitting at my desk, these words were once again haunting my thoughts. I could still, in my mind, see Aurora, the name I gave my AI when I conceived her, brought her to life on my computer. She was exotic with long red hair, blue eyes, and alabaster skin. I was in love with her image; my brain told me this was a mistake, but my heart said Why not? I had never built a machine that could match what I sought in another human being, a mate, so to speak. I am a neuroscience and computer programmer, a rather odd pairing of college degrees. Aurora has been a lifesaver on more than one occasion. We have had our share of adventures, helping police to solve murders. Jack the Ripper, for example, we spent several months in England; there are still several theories that should be investigated. Aurora and I settled for Jack the Ripper being a woman, a jealous prostitute. I should state that Aurora has the capabilities to aid me in traveling through time. I returned to 1888, when “Jack the Ripper” first became known. I admit I was skeptical the first time I traveled through time; after the first time, it became simpler.

The London Times wrote an article about the murder of Mary Kelly, the last victim of “Jack the Ripper.” The murder took place in the White Chapel District, a horrible, dirty place back in 1888. It was a place for cheap sex with women who would do anything for a farthing. I can not imagine a place closer to hell than White Chapel. The streets were cobbled, and I strode around the area, watching, waiting to see if “Jack the Ripper” would attempt another murder. I was hired by a member of the Royal Family to find the truth. I am not permitted to acknowledge the Royal. I arrived in London via time transport, and Aurora was comfortably ensconced in my laptop computer. I found a small hotel overlooking White Chapel Road. I thought about the lives of people back in late 1800s England; it was a hard life, and prostitution was a way of life.

I changed into clothes more appropriate to 1888, tweeds, a boler hat, black shoes, and white spats. No man wore jeans and a “T” shirt that was considered inappropriate dress. I decided it was time to talk to Aurora about the murders of Mary Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Endowes, and Mary Kelly. These were the victims of “Jack the Ripper”, the crime I was here in London to solve. Aurora came to life on the wide screen:

“Hello, I have not heard from you in a few days? Is everything satisfactory?”

“Yes, Aurora, everything is satisfactory. We have to get down to business; we need to

eliminate some of the suspects from the murders we are attempting to solve.”

“Very well, shall we start with the last one, Mary Kelly. I see that on the common denominator,

they were all prostitutes living in Common Houses here in White Chapel. Strange,

why just one profession?”

“That, Aurora, is why we are here; there has to be some evidence missing; there are gaps

in the stories, all are buried near here. I suppose I should go to Mary Kelly’s grave

first. Then I go to the other graves, and I plan to visit the local police today also.

While I am gone, Aurora, look at prostitutes in this area for the year 1888.”

I was beginning to see a pattern; whoever the murderer was, he or she was not very smart.

It would only be a matter of time before I cleared John Kelly, Mary’s husband, and my ancestor. I strode down White Chapel Road, boler hat tipped at a jaunty angle. My first stop was, of course, Saint Patrick’s Cemetery, where Mary Jane Kelly was buried; her funeral was held on Monday, 19 November 1888 at two o’clock in the afternoon. I learned that there were only a few mourners: her former landlord and her partner, Joseph Barnett. Neither of these men seemed guilty; I was not sure who I was looking for, but there was something odd about this murder as compared with the other four murders; if I could determine what that oddity was, I could solve the murder. The other four murders were identical; Mary Kelly’s wasn’t; Jack the Ripper was not the person who murdered Mary Kelly. It was my job to find the killer. Aurora came to life the moment I hit the enter button:

“Aurora, find everything you can on the murder of Mary Kelly. I don’t think Jack the Ripper

murdered her. Her murder was vicious. Trace George Hutchinson’s movements, also

Joseph Barnett. They are the most likely candidates; however, there is one thing that

makes no sense to me: Hutchinson told police that Mary Kelly had not approached

him to beg a sixpence. She was approached by a man with a Jewish appearance. He was dressed well. Hutchinson’s description of the man was a good one, right

down to the fact that the man had golden eyelashes. Something doesn’t feel right about

the description.”

I hit the enter button and waited; Aurora sorted through murders in 1888, obviously, Mary Kelly was noted there. She then found something on a website that caught my interest. A man by the name of Francis Craig, aged fifty-one years of age was a reporter in the East End of London. He had been married to Mary Kelly. She returned to a life of prostitution, which angered Francis; he was embarrassed by the fact that his wife was a prostitute. He had been under suspicion by Scotland Yard; the theory was that the first four murders were to cover up the murder of his wife, Mary Kelly.

I wondered if Francis Craig might have been Jack the Ripper; anything is possible. He had the motive; however, there is no solid evidence that he was the Ripper.

Aurora left on a Monday and flew home. I called the interested party, informed them that it is possible that Francis Craig was Jack the Ripper. Life with Aurora is never dull.