of that.
(I thought of it.)
Yes, all her own jewels, and most of them bought by Richard Burton. He was English.
Welsh.
Where is Wales?
It is in Britain but it isn’t in England.
I find that confusing.
United Kingdom: the UK is made up of England, Scotland, a slice of Ireland, and Wales.
I see … OK. Well. I’m not visiting any time soon, so I don’t have to worry about directions. Now, here, see the map, here where we are now? This is a delta region also, like the region of the Nile around the first Memphis.
Have you been to Egypt?
No, but I have been to Vegas. Very lifelike. Very Egypt.
I hear they have an animatronic Sphinx in Vegas.
Yes, they do.
You could call that a robot.
You could. I don’t.
Do you know everything about this place? Your Memphis?
I like to think so, Dr Shelley. If you are interested in Martin Luther King, you should visit the National Civil Rights Museum right on the site of the Lorraine Motel, where he was shot dead. You been there yet?
Not yet.
You been to Graceland though?
Not yet.
Beale Street? Home of the Memphis Blues?
Not yet.
You got a lotta Not Yets in your life, Dr Shelley.
She’s right. I am liminal, cusping, in between, emerging, undecided, transitional, experimental, a start-up (or is it an upstart?) in my own life.
I said, One life is not enough …
She nodded at me. Uh-huh. Ain’t that the truth? That is the truth. But don’t despair. Way over yonder is life without end.
Claire looked into the middle distance, her eyes shining with certainty. She asked me if I would like to go with her to her church on Sunday. A real church, she said, not a white man’s whitewash.
A beep on her headset crackled an instruction I couldn’t hear. She turned away from me to make an announcement over the tannoy.
My mind idled around the difference between desire for life without end and desire for more than one life, that is, more than one life, but lived simultaneously.
I could be me and me too. If I could make copies of myself – upload my mind and 3D-print my body, then one Ry could be in Graceland, another Ry at the shrine of Martin Luther King, a third Ry busking the Blues in Beale Street. Later, all my selves could meet, share the day, and reassemble into the original self I like to believe is me.
What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Claire turned back to me, smiling. I said, mostly to myself, I don’t want to live forever.
What’s that you say? She leaned forward, frowning.
I said, Life without end. I don’t want to live forever.
Claire nodded and raised her perfect eyebrow.
Uh-huh. I’m going to be with Jesus, but you can suit yourself.
Thank you, Claire. Have you taken a tour around the expo?
I am a venue expert, not a host, so I am not expected to have detailed knowledge of the events here.
Have you seen any of the robots?
Robots are serving in the cafeteria. It’s not a good experience.
Why not, Claire?
They bring your eggs, and when you say, Excuse me! Hey! I didn’t order tomatoes! They say, Thanks, Ma’am. Have A Nice Day! And glide away to the water fountain. They glide because they can’t walk yet.
No, they can’t walk yet. Walking is hard for bots. But be patient, Claire, and remember – bots find the unexpected difficult to process.
Claire looked at me like I’m in Special Needs.
You call a tomato The Unexpected?
Not the tomato – your response to the tomato.
Claire shook her head. Y’know, Doc, my mom worked in a late-nite diner all her life. 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. to feed her family. She could throw out the drunk guys with one hand and give the hungry kids an extra helping with the other hand. She wasn’t an educated woman, but there was nothing artificial about her intelligence.
That’s one view, I said. I respect it.
I am not even supposed to be here, said Claire. I’m emergency support. I am on release from the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest.
Wow! Champion Barbecue Person!
Yes, said Claire, in full flow. We get over 100,000 visitors a year here in Memphis for the championship – it’s a real big barbecue scene – didn’t you know?
No, I didn’t know.
I started in Sauce – I managed the Sauce Wrestling – that’s forty gallons of barbecue sauce in a giant vat and in you go. Yes! Right in! Fight it out! It’s messy but it’s fun.
Claire, have you personally fought in a vat of sauce?
Personally? Dr Shelley, no.
But you are the champion!
No! I organise the competition.
Oh. I see. (Pause.) Is it flavoured? The sauce?
Sure is! Takes weeks to get the taste off your skin and every dog in town follows you home. Four legs and two, know what I mean? I manage the entire event now – entirely. Sponsorship, demos, games, prizes.
That’s impressive, Claire.
Yes, it is. I am an expert in my own field.
You look like an expert. Maybe it’s the way you style your hair. Very professional hair.
Thank you, Dr Shelley. Anything you want to ask me?
Would you like to come around the show with me? Might make you feel better about it. I can explain a few things. I know a few things about – (not love) – robotics.
I am a Christian, Dr Shelley.
There is nothing in the Bible against robots.
It
