Lao Tzu flicks ash. ‘You call getting my cretin son to sell off my rice-fields to a supermarket owner nice ? So much for filial duty! I let the brat have the land to stop the tax wolves attacking when I die and this’ – he prods the machine – ‘is how I get repaid. I got to go shake the hose – you get leaky at my age. Care for a test drive while I’m gone?’ He slides his vidboy3 over the counter towards me, and wanders off to the bathroom. I take off my baseball cap, plug myself in and press RUN. The screen clears.
Welcome to Virtua Sapiens
[all rights reserved]
I see you are a new user. What is your on-line title?
>eiji miyake
Congrats for registering with Virtua Sapiens, Eiji Miyake. You will never be lonely again. Please select a relationship category. Friend, Enemy, Stranger, Lover, Relative.
>relative
Okay, Eiji. Which relative would you like to meet today?
>my father, of course
Well, excuseme. Please hold still for three seconds while I digitalize your face. An eye icon blinks and a microlens built into the screen frame blinks red. Okay
Number 9 dream
now hold extra still while I register your retina. One wall, a floor and a ceiling appear. A whirlpool carpet bitmaps the floor. Pin-stripes unroll up the walls. A window appears, with a view of plum blossoms tossing in a spring storm. Curtains of rain blur the glass. I even hear the raindrops, ever so faint. The room is gloomy. A lamp appears on the left and glows cosy yellow. A see-through sofa appears under the window. The sofa is inked in with zigzags. And in the centre of the sofa appears my father, right foot folded on left knee, which looks cool but cannot be comfortable. The program has given him my nose and mouth, but made him jowlier and thinned his hair. His eyes are those of a mad scientist on the eve of world domination. His wrinkles are symmetrical. He is wearing a black dressing gown – he sort of glows, as if he got out of the bath five minutes ago. My father leans over to screen right, where a wine-bucket appears – he slides the bottle out and reads the label. ‘Chablis, 1993.’ A crisp, clear, even voice, perfect for weather forecasting. He pours himself a glass, makes a great show of savouring the bouquet, and sort of snorts it through his lips. He winks. An enamel smile flashes. ‘Welcome home, son. Refresh my memory, will you – how long has it been?’
> never, actually
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Such a long time? Time flies like an arrow! What a lot of news we have to catch up. But you and I will get on like a house on fire. So tell me about school, son.’
> I left. i am 20
He sips his wine, slooshing it around his tongue, and runs a hand back through his hair. ‘Is that so, son?’ He leans towards the screen between us. The resolution is amazing – I flinch back. ‘So you must be at university, right? Is that a cafeteria I see in the background?’
> Ididn’t bother applying for university. no parents to pay and no money.
My father reclines, and lounges a lazy arm over the back of the sofa. ‘Is that so, son? That strikes me as a pity. Education is a wonderful thing. So how do you spend your time exactly?’
> I am a rock star
His eyebrows shoot up. ‘Is that a fact, son? Tell me. Are you a successful rock star, with fame and fortune, or are you one of the unwashed millions still waiting for your lucky break to come along?’
> very successful. all over the world
He winks and flashes and enamel smile. ‘I know meeting your old man after all this time is tough, son, but honesty is always the best policy. If you are such a big noise in the entertainment world, how come I never heard of you from Time magazine?’
> I perform under an alias to protect my privacy
He knocks back the rest of his wine. ‘It isn’t that I don’t believe you, son, but could you tell me your alias? I want to boast about my rock star son to my buddies – and bank manager!’
> john lennon
My father slaps his knee. ‘The real John Lennon was assassinated by Mark Chapman in 1980, therefore I know you are pulling my leg!’