It wasn't even real.
I’ve avoided telling you this, but your time with Natali was irresponsible and unsustainable. It wasn’t even real in the way life is supposed to be.
AUXILIUM BY LUKE SWEENEY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 101
Leon’s holophone sounded like a siren. Missing the call would trigger a warrant for his arrest. He tapped the screen. The holophone projected a light with floating bits like moths swirling inside. The pixelated glow came into focus and took on the shape and color of a middle-aged man sitting with his legs crossed, his eyes both dead and too-alert.
Leon swirled the ice in his whiskey. The hologram reminded Leon of the TV commercials he’d seen. In the old woman’s living room the shrink bot leans in and smiles, “Your life still has worth, Joan. If you want your family to call you should ask them.” The woman nods, cries, reaches for an old rotary dial phone.
“Can I call you Leon?”
“Sure.”
“I’m Howard, or some prefer Dr Howard which is fine.”
“They named you?”
“An engineer at Auxilium. I assume you know why we’re here. The court has ordered outpatient treatment and curative supervision for the next 60 days. Could be longer of course, depending.”
“I understand.”
“Is that alcohol? Should we start there?”
Leon put the glass back on the kitchen counter too quickly and the whiskey spilled on the tile floor.
“You’re not supposed to be drinking during the probationary period.”
Leon looked around the kitchen, taking inventory. “Do you report back to the court?”
“Patient confidentiality still applies in most cases.” Dr Howard’s lips mimicked a paternalistic grin. “But yes I do submit a report after the 60 days.”
“Can’t they just open you up and listen? Or watch the tape?”
“I don’t record anything. I reflect on what’s been said but it’s encrypted. That was a sticking point with Auxilium.”
“Huh.”
Dr Howard blinked. “Do you have any other questions you’d like to get out the way?”
“What were you doing before this?”
“Your case has top priority for me but I also provide end-of-life care.”
Leon threw his head back and cackled. He held up a finger and quoted from the TV commercial, “Swing classes? That’s a marvelous idea!”
“That’s senior companionship. I’m talking about palliative care. End-of-life services is for when death is close. No-one is taking swing classes. Do you want to talk about what put you in crisis?”
“Why do you say I was in crisis?”
“All your readings spiked.”
Leon rubbed the patch on his arm. After it stopped itching he’d forgotten it was there. It would come off in 30 days. Could be longer, depending.