Many of us play the lottery, in hope of winning the big prize, which is usually more money than you’ve ever seen, but what if the prize is something bigger and better, like the life of a loved one who died a long time ago? Wouldn’t you play? What if you win, and what if you lose?
The clock displayed four in the afternoon. The noises in the office were no longer of sales pitches and modeling meetings, but of clicks of closing gadgets and steps of those leaving. Obi worked on his final algorithmic review with calm and attentive eyes.
“Best of luck, Obi,” said the voice of one companion. Obi didn’t bother to turn to mutter his appreciation.
The wish of luck triggered the memory of others.
“LifeWorks? Is it today?”
“I hope she comes back.”
“I’ll be sending out good vibes.”
“I’m sure this is the day, Obi. I can feel it.”
“If you get her back, message me and take the day off.”
“Thanks, boss,” said Obi.
When only two other people were in the office, Obi rose from his chair to leave.
“Ride home?”
“Uh?” Obi turned to his right and faced the origin of the offer. “Oh, hi, Lena. Nice to see you around here.”
“I thought I’d leave the apartment today. Give the new speeder a ride.”
“New?”
“Yes, I have an Astro VII now. Blue and silver,” said Lena, with an aura of accomplishment and pride. “You should let me take you home.”
“Thank you, but I think I’ll walk,” said Obi. The image of the young girl in love with her new speeder was a pleasant and painful reminder.
“Where will you be for the lottery?” Lena asked as they entered the lift.
“Liberty Square. I always go there. It was her favorite place.”
“I can’t be there. I can’t bear the sadness of so many unknown people, you know?”
The honest answer would be a sounding yes.
“How about the happiness of the lucky few?” asked Obi.
“The few? Is usually no one!” said Lena, immediately regretting her words. “I mean, there is the possibility of someone to come back for those waiting, but it’s hard. It happens, though, and I hope she comes back, and… What was her name again?”
“Bruna,” said Obi, with an unnoticeable smile at the girl’s difficulty in being positive towards his situation.
The lift stopped and both of them passed through the biometric gate-doors.
“I hope she comes back this time, Obi. I really do.”
“Thanks, Lena. Have a nice weekend.”
Lena waved and left through the side door while Obi took the front one, bade two co-workers a good afternoon, and walked home. The mix of old houses and shining new buildings brewed thoughts of how his father couldn’t leave the bed at ninety-eight years of age, and how he was able to walk home with only a discomfort in his lower back. Halfway home, memories and back pain were replaced in view of the lottery announcements. In less than four hours, he’d have a chance to see Bruna again.
#
Obi chose his eternal suit, as he did every year: the same suit he wore at his wedding, at graduation, at Bruna’s birth. Dark gray with light stripes over a white shirt with red-and-black tie. At exactly seven o’clock, he felt his implant shooting vitamins inside his body. He checked the datapad on the wall for any detected anomalies: none. Outside the window, the sky was pitch black except for a single star, and the forecast was of a clear night at 27 degrees. Perfect for a walk.
He closed the doors and walked seven streets for twenty minutes, same as the past seventeen years.
Hundreds were already at Liberty Square. All ages, all sizes, all types of feelings. Obi found a place to sit near the gardens, far from the temporary stage set up by LifeWorks. The yellow LW was everywhere: benches, employee uniforms, the stage itself, the arranged flowers.
“Mind if I sit next to you?” said a voice by Obi’s right shoulder.
“Only if you don’t have good news, Douglas,” said Obi.
“If I hadn’t any, it would be better to remain silent,” Douglas said. They shook hands and laughed. “Business is well, and I’m happy to provide for the entire family. If only it was the entire family.”
“Perhaps it will be soon,” said Obi.
“Oh, I can only imagine… My fourth year here, Obi. Missing is painful, but hope also takes its toll.”
“My seventeenth.”
“Seventeen,” said Douglas after a brief silence. “It feels like you deserve more than me. Or that there should be a time limit.”
“Would be unfair. There’s too much involved, much more than time.”
“Don’t you think it is already unfair? With millions of credits to spare, you’d have your daughter already,” said Douglas. “The rich can skip the line, but their loved ones are not more important, are they?”
Obi sighed in his disappointment and acceptance.
“Between hope and nothing, I believe hope wins. Don’t you?”
“You’re a good man, Obi. I give you that. But it is good to get angry sometimes, you know?”
Obi smiled and thought of the many situations in which he was angry at work during the week. Yes, anger is fine, and even unavoidable, but there’s little gain in expressing it.
“If I may ask, Obi,” said Douglas, “how did you lose her?”
“Train accident. The inter-capital route.”
“Train accident? We haven’t had one in years. Was it—”
“The last one,” said Obi. “A failure in the emergency algorithms made the train act as if rats on its way were to be both ignored and trigger a complete stop.”
“Rats… Yes, rats, I remember,” said Douglas, a hand moving on his right temple as if to fish a memory from the attic of his brain. “No survivors, if I recall it well. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Experts reviewed the entire system. Trains are the closest they can be to perfect now.”
“Yes, I don’t even consider accidents anymore. Seems almost a fantasy.”
An employee of LifeWorks was on the stage to deliver the opening speech. In the previous year, the company used a single video message, with a single representative on the headquarters. Backlash was massive. Complaint topics included the quality of the speech, the impossibility of knowing the results for those who were not at a live presentation, and even the accent of the representative. Ultimately, the less human approach was the key negative aspect. LifeWorks was part of people’s lives, from birth to death. They’ve placed their trust in the company’s organization and predictability, and their hope in its operating model. People never cared about how the energy of every person was mapped and moved. Most people wouldn’t mind saying “it’s magic” when referring to the planet’s most advanced technology. What people wouldn’t accept is for the return of their loved ones to be a line on the news.
Obi came back from his thoughts when the speech was almost done. The presenter, Lucas, held the live speech at Liberty Square for twenty years. He became a local celebrity and accumulated the responsibility of dealing with those who seek him in desperation. When the speech ended, most people applauded, with those who have waited for the longest being the exception.
At 19:55, everything was ready for the results, and the last five minutes would be drama-builders. A variety of murmurs filled the air, from anxiety talks to an occasional prayer.
“They should have longer speeches,” said Obi. Douglas nodded.
On the stage, a set of hexagonal plaques, green and silver, occupied the central section of the floor. An arc was behind it, with the yellow LW at the top and with red curtains separating the public from the technological marvels set up behind it.
19:57. LifeWorks employees behaved as if it was a solemn moment, heads down and in silence. Obi looked at Douglas and he was rubbing his hands against one another and sweating. To his other side, a woman was holding a stuffed blue bunny to her chest, her dead kid’s toy.
19:59. Some forty people started a countdown. Two people were brought back in the previous year, increasing the day’s attendance. Within seconds, everyone stood.
At 20:00, the curtain moved. An arm of dark brown skin opened it to one side and a large man appeared in full. A section of the public screamed and ran to the stage. LifeWorks personnel directed them to the stairs, keeping a reasonable order without ruining people’s moment with the return of a loved one.
Two minutes after, no one else came out from behind the red curtains. Applause followed, some with true happiness for the happiness of others, some out of a sense of obligation. Obi smiled and remained silent: speaking might bring tears. Douglas shook his head negatively. Some people were crying.
The woman with the blue bunny acknowledged Obi with her head and left. On the opposite side, Douglas sat again. Obi placed a hand on his shoulder and sat as well.
“Chin up, my friend. Some are very happy today. And you know everyone comes back eventually,” he said.
“I have forty years left now, Obi,” said Douglas. “Is it possible that I won’t see my son again before my time runs out?”
“Forty years is a long time. And the availability of energy is growing. Each year, there’s an increase of returns.”
“You are too positive. I do hope you are right.”
“Back home?” said Obi as he stood.
“Yes, yes. You’ll walk, right?”
“As always. It’s a pleasant night. I’ll even take a longer route.”
Obi and Douglas shook hands and left to opposite sides.
“How old are you?”
Obi turned, and Douglas was facing him from a distance of three steps. Knowing the reactions the answer would cause, Obi smiled before speaking.
“Ninety-eight.”
Douglas froze. Around Obi, others spoke about it, trying to hide as Obi glanced at them.
“But Obi… That’s… I mean, you only have—”
“Less than two years to live,” said Obi, interrupting Douglas’ struggle to complete the sentence. “I’ll need plenty of luck next year.”
Douglas barely moved. Obi said goodbye with his head and turned away. In three months, he’d be ninety-nine. In three months and a year, his lifetime would end: his energy would fuel LifeWorks’ miracle machine, and population would be under control.
#
Obi was the first at the office on the rainy Monday that followed the lottery weekend. The numbers provided by LifeWorks were a feast for the optimistic: returns increased by two percent to over nineteen million people. Various transmissions during the weekend showed how thrilled were those who had someone back.
One by one, people arrived at the office. Some spoke to Obi and wished him better luck next time, and some gave him a sad smile and nothing else. Obi focused on his algorithmic reviews.
Mid-morning, a voice behind Obi interrupted his work.
“Do you have a minute?”
His boss was standing with two cups of tea.
“Yes, of course, Maria,” he said. Obi stood and accepted one cup. “Thank you.”
“Let’s find a room,” said Maria, and led him to one of the conference rooms. She closed the door behind him and pointed to a chair. She sat after Obi and sipped some tea.
“I’m sorry about yesterday, Obi,” she said. “I really hoped you would message me to say you’d take the day off for yourself and spend it with your daughter.”
“Thank you. Perhaps next year,” he said.
“And that’s the real reason I wanted to talk to you: next year. Obi, you are ninety-eight. You look at least ten years younger, but looks don’t change the situation. You know you only have two more years, right?”
“One year and three months.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Obi. You are a great employee, the best at what you do, but… Why are you still here? Why don’t you leave and enjoy the year? I’m sure you have enough reserves for a year, you can travel, pursue some other interest… What I mean is, I want you to make the best of this last year.”
Maria’s words were only a repetition.
“I thank you for your concern, Maria,” said Obi. “But I should mention that this is a conversation I had with myself many times.”
“And you kept a day job? Over all other options?”
“I’ve kept the hope of spending my final days with my daughter.”
“But Obi… You have one lottery left—”
“I know,” he said before she could continue. “I understand that, but I had plans with Bruna. We had dozens of ideas for our African expedition. We knew it so well that we’d do everything without a guide…”
Even though there were only plans to remember, a nostalgic smile appeared on Obi’s face.
“If I do it alone, if I go to Africa without Bruna… It would mean that I gave up.”
Maria stared at the cup of tea in her hands for the entire time. She drank some of it and placed it on the table.
“I didn’t mean to intrude, Obi,” she said.
“You didn’t.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you, please.”
Obi nodded. Maria displayed a sympathy smile and left the room, leaving Obi with his thoughts and the now-lukewarm tea. What of the last three months? What if, after all those years, none of the lotteries worked?
Morning went by fast, but productivity was lower than usual. Colleagues glanced at Obi to check if he was fine. Some looks of pity or concern, either about his age, about his daughter not returning, or both. By the end of the day, Obi had done less than half of the work he expected to do, and walked home without saying goodbye to anyone.
He had dinner watching one of thousands of entertainment shows available worldwide. The presenter, Alice Berrini, received of all sorts of guests and had the mission to put them in awkward situations with her questions. A known formula, used for countless years. The guest was one of LifeWorks’ top scientists, and he was being bombarded with information about how not even he knew for sure how people came back, something he had trouble explaining to a non-scientific audience.
It was impossible not to laugh. The scientist couldn’t hold back from extreme technical jargon. For each “quantum field” or “zero-point fluctuation”, Alice ridiculed the statement as the chanting of an ancient spell. Minutes into the conversation, the fun stopped for a moment as the explanation went uninterrupted about how the very energy of each person was mapped at birth, captured at death and converted into matter for their return.
“Most of you, perhaps including you, Doctor Lee, know about my wife Lyandra,” said Alice. Doctor Lee nodded. “She passed away months ago. The love of my life, you know. It was a hard moment, the hardest I’ve ever been through.”
Alice paused for a moment, building some suspense. The audience remained silent, buying into it.
“I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I almost fell into despair. And there’s a reason for you to be our guest today, doctor. I want to thank you, and thank the miracle work you all did and do at LifeWorks. It is thanks to you I can now call upon the stage, my love, Lyandra!”
Screaming and applause followed as the woman stepped in and hugged Alice. The doctor applauded from his seat with a smile on his face, faking surprise and emotion at something he knew would happen. When it was his time to speak, he thanked Alice for her contribution to the improvement of LifeWorks and the lives of everyone on the planet. Her donation would mean an expansion of the services.
Alice paid to have Lyandra back. And, like Alice, many others with very healthy financial positions did the same the day after the lottery, in the process referred to as donating.
Obi went to sleep after dinner, and dreamed of Bruna. Donating was not an option, not even selling all he had and using his savings. Perhaps in the next lottery, he’d have her back, and have someone to wish goodnight before going to bed.
#
Months passed with the usual array of interesting and boring happenings of everyone’s life. Obi went to work every weekday. He watched Alice’s show, read century-old classics, took the minimum amount of vacation days, practiced Swahili, got stung by a bee, lost his patience at his lack of skill at online chess, and reorganized furniture. The main difference was the travel plans.
Obi used his savings and bought all he needed for three months in Africa for two people, non-refundable. Twelve countries, each for one of his final weeks. The lifelong dream of seeing the continent with Bruna was ready. All he needed was Bruna.
The Tuesday before the lottery was Obi’s last day at work. He arrived earlier and walked around with no one to disturb him. The desk where he sat on his first day, the conference room where he solved the problem the entire corporation freaked out about: would he miss this place?
One by one, his coworkers arrived to find a small black paper bag on their desks. The first one associated the gift to Obi, as he was the only person there, and thanked him for the candy. Some were not sure who gave the gifts, but others helped them figure out. They filled the morning with messages of gratitude and positive goodbyes.
“Did you know they were my favorites?” asked Lena, holding out her gift of crunchy chocolate.
“You mentioned it a day or two. I’m glad I got it right,” said Obi.
“So right. I’m surprised I could come here and talk to you before eating them.”
They laughed, and Lena sat beside Obi.
“Listen, I wanted to thank you for all the help throughout the years. I’m serious,” said Lena as Obi shook his head to tell her he didn’t do more than what he should have. “You saved my ass a few times, you know that. Thank you,” she said, holding his hand.
“I’m happy to help, Lena.”
“You are a good man, Obi. People like you should live past a hundred.”
Lena stood and took two steps towards her desk, then returned to the seat beside Obi with increased seriousness on her face.
“The lottery is Friday, right?”
Obi nodded.
“You know, I’ll watch and think about how wonderful it will be when you get her back.”
“Thanks Lena. I know you will.”
“And now, for your last day, I’ll buy you lunch at Duke ‘n’ Duke. And you may not refuse.”
“Well, I accept your offer. Burgers seem like a good choice for today.”
“And beers. And some shopping afterwards. I’m inclined to spend money today,” said Lena, and Obi laughed.
“Happy to get rid of me?”
“Oh, no. I got some minor prize in the lottery. I mean, the money lottery. You didn’t know?”
“No, I had no idea. But I’m happy for you now.”
“It wasn’t much,” said Lena, “but a girl needs to give herself a gift now and then. One day, I’ll win some of the big prizes and live in a penthouse with a hot butler called James, who’ll have to work without a shirt.”
Obi could not contain his laughs, and the rest of the office turned to them. He raised his hand in an apology, but most people had a smile on their faces.
“I can imagine you as a super-rich man,” she said. “Walking around with a watch more expensive than several apartments.”
“I like the idea, but I’d have to play to win. I never did that.”
“Never?” she asked.
“Never.”
With eyes wide open, Lena turned to her devices for a moment. Soon after, Obi got a new personal message.
“There, now you did. Something else to add to the list of things you did in your life, right? See you at lunch.”
They smiled at each other, and Lena returned to her desk. Obi finished and saved a draft of his farewell message, and went back to work for a few minutes, when Maria asked him to join her in a separate room.
“Obi, I’m happy that this is your last day,” she said. “You deserve to enjoy your life to the fullest. I will miss you here, for sure. No one has more experience in hyper-programming than you. But you have always proved yourself a good man and you deserve the best.”
Obi thanked his boss, and she continued.
“Now, as the last day, we have something for you,” she said, as she waved her personal device in front of her. Obi received a message.
Dear Obi, we from Second Home are happy to grant you our special hotel pass. You can book, upgrade, or pay for any of our services in any hotel on the planet using the code below. And don’t forget to thank who gifted you this amazing bonus: your coworkers.
Obi’s surprise was genuine. It wasn’t a small amount, and he could improve some of his stays in Africa.
“Maria, I… Thank you. Thank you so, so much,” he said.
“You are more than welcome, Obi. You deserve it.”
Before Obi could thank her again, a knock on the door had both turning their eyes in its direction.
“Excuse me,” said Lena, only her head through the half-opened door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a corporate call waiting for you, Maria.”
“Very well,” said Maria as she stood. “Enjoy your gift, Obi. If you don’t have lunch plans, let me know.”
“On that subject,” said Lena, “we’ve agreed to lunch together. Are you in, Maria? It’s on me.”
“If we can go after the call, sure.”
Maria left the room, and Lena whispered to Obi before leaving.
“Always good to keep close to the boss.”
Obi smiled and waved. Lena’s spirit always reminded him of Bruna’s.
#
Friday came fast, and Obi spent the entire day inside his apartment. Most of his belongings were in boxes and luggage. The essential was still in place, but everything else would be donated or go with him on his travels. He had a conversation with a virtual teaching bot in Swahili — a bot with a special interest in bird watching. He finished the final book on his list, “Dom Casmurro”, and lingered on the story: did the girl cheat on her husband?
When evening came, Obi dressed in his same suit and brought back the same memories. As his final action before leaving home, he set the dinner table for two.
Obi walked to Liberty Square and arrived earlier than usual. Most of the noise and movement came from LifeWorks employees. There were vacant seats at the front, and Obi sat close to the stage. He recognized some people who came every year.
One by one, the seats were taken. Lucas was on stage for his speech, similar to all previous ones, but different enough to feel personal for those watching. In the eyes of most people, there was a spark of hope.
The clocks ticked a minute left. There were prayers and clenched fists with fervent wishes or desperate pleas. Ignoring those, and ignoring some people crying, the night was quiet, clean, warm. The perfect night for a walk home. The perfect night for a walk home with Bruna.
Obi’s fingertips were pressing against the palm of his hands with nails nearly cutting his skin. Last chance. There’s no other option anymore.
The curtains moved at the exact time, and a child’s hand appeared. It pushed the curtain to the left and revealed a girl in a red dress, no older than six. There were no screams from those present and no one ran towards the stage. People looked around to find what they expect to be the parents. The girl broke the silence.
“Nana?” she said, and an old woman holding a blue stuffed bunny rose, trembling and crying. Others held her by the arms and guided her to the front. LifeWorks employees carried the girl off the stage and set her running towards her grandmother.
Applause followed. Tears all around were of sadness for not having a loved one back or consequences of an emotional happy moment.
The applause died in seconds, and the returning silence drove people’s heads towards the stage. There was another.
Obi stood, hands against his chest. Pictures of Bruna ran through his mind in sequence and left no room for other thoughts. The curtain moved, but didn’t open. Bruna was teasing. She was always the playful kind. When there was movement again, the curtains opened in one strong and fast movement.
A young man.
Not Bruna.
The moment of silence in the square allowed Obi’s mind to fly through hundreds of thoughts. Something was wrong. It couldn’t be someone else. It was Bruna’s turn. Where was she?
A scream-laugh identified who came to receive the young man. Obi turned and recognized his friend Douglas.
As Douglas and his son held each other, Obi stared at the stage, waiting for Bruna. After a minute, no one else came through the curtains. LifeWorks employees started to clean the area.
He walked with heavy steps, and felt like falling at each of them. One of his hands ran through the walls while the other pulled his own shirt at his chest. Two strangers stopped him on his way home to ask if he was feeling well. He remained silent as he entered his apartment and removed his shoes. He then faced the dinner table, ready for two.
Douglas got his son back? He waited five years. It didn’t make sense; it wasn’t fair. It was Bruna’s turn. She should be back. She should be at the table, laughing and eating and drinking. Why did that stupid boy return instead of her?
With trembling arms, Obi broke his silence with a bellow. He ran his hands on the table, and the plates, cups and silverware felt to the ground, broken and scattered. He punched the table with both fists as he fell on his knees, then on his side.
Bruna didn’t come back. He’d never see his daughter again.
With dry tears on his face, he slept on the floor.
#
The house was dark and smelled like the windows and doors were kept shut for a month. It was clean and organized to perfection. The flower vase on the table had a dent and a scratch, and had no flowers. Every electronic device was off and some had been removed.
The corridor with the bedrooms and bathroom was even darker than the living room, and demanded some help from guiding hands on the walls. A door to the small bedroom was the first to the right, and a weak lamp by the bed was the only non-natural source of light in the house.
On the desk, by the light, was a sealed letter: “To Bruna.”
Her hands were shaking as she reached for the letter, and the air left her lungs as she read the first line.
My love, I hope you can remember my voice as you read this letter.
There hasn’t been a single day that I didn’t think of you with happiness in my heart. From the day you held my finger with your tiny baby hand, until my very final day on Earth, you have been my reason to go on, to believe, to be strong.
It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t hurt all those years without you. No human knows greater pain. But no human knows greater pleasure either. The memory of your smile, your hugs, your singing voice, and even your face when you made such efforts to eat my no-more-than-ok food — the greatest gifts any father could ever have. And that’s why I could write this to you not with a heavy heart, but with a proud one.
Pride that comes both from having you as my daughter and for being able to fulfill part of our dream as my last actions in life.
We were a very smart duo in choosing our dreams: Africa is spectacular. Twelve countries, and I could not pick a favorite. Turn the letter when you’re done: your father had an interesting time being trunk-hugged by an elephant.
But this was just part of our dream. It was just me. And what I wanted the most was for you to be there. We will not travel the continent together — at least, not physically together. But I hope you still have in you the desire to complete the second part of our dream.
After all, if death didn’t stop an old man like me, what chance does it have against you?
Thank you, Bruna, for being the reason I can say that I lived a happy life. With all my heart, I wish you the same thing.
Love,
Dad.
END
