Effigy ...Part 2 ...Diana Reborn

I must get my soul back from you;
I'm killing my flesh without it.
― Sylvia Plath

My partner, Karol, is working with me to recreate a living, functioning version of Diana, my deceased wife.

Karol studied the work of an 18th century mechanician named Jacques de Vaucanson who made automata that could eat, breathe and have blood circulating through their arteries.

Karol also discovered a process to make life-like transparent skin that blushed and sweated—and he made eyes that cried real tears.

On my part, I programmed the AI component with Diana's health history, allergies and her likes and dislikes.

When we were finished, we both gazed in astonishment at what we created.

“My God, George—its Diana reborn,” Karol exclaimed.

“But I haven’t even animated her yet.”

He began trembling all over. I thought he was about to faint.

“What’s wrong, Karol—are you unwell?”

He was pale and shaking and could barely stand up.

“I’m terrified to my very soul, George. I cannot be here when she comes alive.”

I could scarcely believe my ears.

“But you said yourself she’d have no soul.”

He shook his head vigorously. “I did— did say that, but that was before I saw her living likeness. Oh George, what have we done?”

I gave him a brittle smile. “You, my friend, are the materialist—you deny the existence of spirit—and yet, look how you quake with fear.”

He used a chair to support himself and gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Why are you so frightened?” I demanded.

“I quake to look upon her likeness.”

“What did Macbeth’s wife tell him? The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. It’s the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.”

“Call me childish, if you wish, but I won’t stay and see her in my nightmares.”

“Don’t be foolish Karol—it’s our life’s work.”

“It’s a damnable work,” he called back as he exited the door.

I shook my head in disbelief.

Infirm of purpose, I snickered to myself.

I loaded the program, activated the computer and stepped back to watch.

She began to breathe. I watched her bosom rise and fall. Her cheeks began to colour and her eyelashes fluttered.

But then, suddenly, the eyelids opened and we stood locked in each other’s gaze.

To be continued…

© 2025, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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