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Amelia Lane

Every day I spoke to Amelia Lane
The voice of my very dear sister
And although her words gave me great pain
I always had to be with her

She lit up a room, filled my TV screen
My wife glanced at me full of concern
My sister could never be callous or mean
But none of it lasted, I had much to learn

“Daddy,” said Ella, my daughter of joy
“Would you want to spend time with me?”
She showed me her prize, her favorite toy
“Sorry,” I said, “I’m much too busy.”

“Hello Leo,” Amelia spoke
“I miss you,” said I, a tear on my cheek
“Please don’t cry, you must learn to cope!”
I looked away, eyes about to leak

“Will you ever stop talking to her?”
I looked behind me, the voice was my wife
I cried, “Mara, you caused me to stir!”
“Well, sometimes sudden is a part of life.”

Mara looked at me, square in the eye
“Don’t look at me like that,” I started to beg
“You’ve abandoned your family!” my wife yelled
And those words felt like a kick in the leg

Hand trembling, the remote I seized
To Amelia, I planned to bid her goodbye
Mother and daughter began to look pleased
But saying I could move on was a big lie

Mara marched up to me, the remote she took
She said, “Amelia’s just a corporate machine!”
The screen turned off, I lay there shook
I said, “Now you’ve just ruined my dream!”

“No!” she yelled “There never was one.
Amelia’s an AI that says a few words
But you’re so obsessed, removed all your fun
To the point of neglect of your wife and girl.”

Mara was right, I had to admit
Amelia Lane was stripped of her soul
And then I wanted to throw a fit
An AI system could not make her whole

My sister had died, a true tragedy
And her exit was of own accord
But I was much too blind to see
All of her hatred innerly stored

A company had an idea so cruel
To let people choose what the dead could say
To rely on a sister of glitches, what a fool
I should have known all that mattered was pay

I no longer talk to my sister’s shell
I’m getting therapy in order to heal
And now I’m getting along quite well
I spend time with family, time’s mine to steal

Isn’t it tragic, this cruel world
Over a decade since AI was born
Any morality has been long hurled
Taking advantage of those who are torn

If AI can start to replicate the deceased
It’s scary to think what’s next at stake
For no fault of it’s own, AI’s time should cease
The problem’s the choices that us humans make

Copyright © Rita Burns | Year Posted 2024

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