Page 119 of Gone Before Goodbye

“Oh, it does.”

“Then some people will pay anything for it.”

“That’s probably true,” Sharon says. “But I have no interest in spending two months digging up information on, say, a billionaire’s father, no matter what they’d pay. I want everyone to have access to whatever I create.”

Porkchop sits back. “How long has Maggie had your griefbot?”

“Two weeks,” Sharon says. “She didn’t tell you about it.”

“She did not.”

“She thought it would hurt you.”

Again with the blunt words. Behind them, Tears for Fears are singing that if they could change your mind, they’d really love to break your heart.

“You don’t approve,” Sharon says.

“Not my place.”

“But it’s not something you’d be interested in.”

“The dead are dead,” Porkchop says. “You’re not supposed to get over it. You’re supposed to live with it.”

“Other people may feel differently.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“Suppose it offers comforts?”

“It would be a false comfort.”

Sharon shrugs. “All comfort is false, when you think about it. That’s almost the definition.”

“I’m not looking for comfort,” Porkchop says. “It’s not about me. It’s about my son. It’s not about what I miss—it’s about what he missed, what was stolen from him. I don’t care about my pain. I can live with that. It’s the least I can do. What I can’t live with—what I can’t get past, what Idon’t wantto get past—is what was taken from my boy.”

Sharon says nothing.

“Do you think your griefbot can help with that?”

“No,” she says.

“I don’t mean to sound harsh.”

Sharon puts up her hand. “I get it.”

“What made you decide to do this?”

“Make a griefbot?”

“Make one of Marc for Maggie.”

“Selfishness maybe. I wanted to see if I could do it.”

“And you thought it would help Maggie.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”