Deep Dive
Shownotes Transcript
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Noel misses the chime, but feels the vibration in his pocket. Wiping burrito grease from his fingers with a napkin that is almost translucent from previous wipings, he reaches into his front jeans pocket and pulls out his phone. "Reincarnate" is the subject heading of the new email. Noel frowns and almost opens the email, but the smell of the greasy burrito and the rumbling in his stomach wins over. So he puts his phone away in order to get back to eating.
Most likely just spam. Ha, more than most likely. With a subject like "reincarnate", it has to be spam. Picking the burrito back up, Noel chomps down, ready to fill his belly and hit the road. He still has a long day ahead of him. Three cities and eight more accounts to visit. All before he gets to his hotel for a few hours sleep, then do it all over again tomorrow. The road never ends, there's always work to do.
"Right, Georgie?" he mutters, then catches himself. He covertly glances at the handful of patrons seated at picnic tables in front of the taqueria he's chosen for the day's lunch. None are paying him even the slightest bit of attention. They're all wrapped up in their own conversations or engrossed in their eating. Noel figures most are day laborers, then feels guilty making that assumption. "Too hard on myself, right, Georgie?" he mumbles before taking a bite of his burrito.
It's a burrito his wife of 37 years would have frowned upon. Georgina Lowell was always worried about Noel's health. His life on the road made Georgina nervous, gone every other week to this state or that, all in the name of selling computer services to medical offices, including but not limited to family practices, dental offices, veterinary practices, physical therapy groups, dialysis centers, and so on.
Georgina becomes more nervous once his age grew along with his waistline. "But it tastes so good," Noel says, taking another bite of the carne asada burrito he has slathered with salsa verde. "Best in the county," a man says as he walks past Noel to toss his trash in the row of garbage cans lined up next to the gravel parking lot. "My cousin owns the place. Is that so?" Noel asks after quickly chewing and swallowing his bite.
Which was true. She just wouldn't have ordered the carne asada. The man says, and gives a small wave before heading to a pickup truck with a bed full of old washing machines.
Noel calls after the man. The pain that hits his heart would be alarming, except that Noel knows he's not going into cardiac arrest or anything like that. No, the pain in his heart is strictly emotional. Yeah, he would love to bring Georgina here, to this place, and maybe convince her to live a little because the grease is so good. Live a little. That's the problem. Georgina Marie Cooper Lowell stopped living six months, three weeks, and two days ago
A motorist swerved at the wrong time, killing her instantly as she walked by the side of their rural road. They never found out who was driving the car. Noel twitches at the memory like his soul is slapped. She got on him about his diet when traveling, and he got on her about walking that damn road with her earbuds in. There was no sidewalk, there was barely any gravel shoulder, and the damn woman always walked with traffic instead of against it. She never saw the car that hit her. Hey dad, what's up?
Nothing much kid, just living the life. Where are you at this week? Kentucky. I have six vet practices to see today, then I hit the small people clinics tomorrow. They have clinics just for small people? Cute smartass. No, no, the smaller sized clinics. I did the rounds of the hospitals and bigger practices last month. I'm focusing on the little guys this month. You eating right? Making sure to hit the treadmill each morning? You know I am kid. Bullshit.
Could be. Don't tell your mom. The silence is deafening. "Sorry," Noel says. Abbott. "I know, Dad. It's cool. I miss her too." More silence. "So, how's my boy? How's that wife of yours? She sick of being pregnant yet?" "Ah, she's sick of it. Three weeks and her life is about to change." "You have no idea, kid. No idea." "I hope that's not the extent of your new dad pep talk."
You don't need a pep talk, kid. You're going to be a great father. I mean, come on, you had the best role model ever, right? Yes. If we planned to raise the baby on the road and feed it only meals procured from food trucks spotted on the side of the highway, then yes, perfect role model. Hey, that's not fair. I like food trucks in parking lots too. I even like the ones permanently set in those food truck lots. Those are just outdoor food courts. I know, right?
The hotel room's AC unit is barely working, and having been in a thousand different hotel rooms over the years, Noel knows the problem. He sits up in bed, snags the hotel phone's handset, and dials zero.
Front desk? Yes, this is Noel Lowell in room 413. Yes, Mr. Lowell. How can I help you? My AC isn't pumping out cold air. Slightly chilled, but not cold. I'm guessing it's the filter. They get clogged in units like these all the time. Can you have maintenance bring one up? One what, sir? A new filter for the AC. I'm sorry, sir, but our maintenance personnel have left for the day. Unless this is an emergency? Is it an emergency?
Technically no, but it is 85 degrees out with like 90% humidity, so AC would be nice. I'm sorry for the discomfort, sir, but I don't have anyone I can send to your room at the moment. Can I just come down and get a filter? I know how to replace them. I've done it a- I'm sorry, sir, but that's not possible due to liability issues. I'm sure you understand.
Noel does understand. He understands that he's talking to a 20-something who just doesn't want to deal with anything harder than her TikTok feed. And since the algorithm does all the work, that means she really doesn't want to deal with anything at all, really. Never mind, I'll handle it myself. "Sir, please do not attempt to..." Noel hangs up. He slumps down in bed and reaches for his phone on the bedside stand.
Unplugging it, because he forgot his long cord, Noel brings up a map and searches for home improvement and hardware stores. Shit, he'd take a Walmart since he's found all kinds of AC filter sizes there before. But as he brings up the map, his phone chimes and vibrates. A new email. Reincarnate, reads the subject line. This time, Noel glances at the preview of the email contents and frowns. Bring your loved ones back to you with our...
Noel sits up, frowning deeper. "What scammy shit is this?" he asks as he opens the email. He knows it is probably a hoax. He also knows that spam these days is just phishing emails designed to get him to download some attachment or click on some link that'll copy all his information and share his data with the dark web, whatever the fuck the dark web is.
Hello, Mr. Lowell. We at Re:Incarnate would like to welcome you to our pilot program. First, we are truly sorry for the loss of your beloved wife, Georgina Lowell. From her online profiles, it is clear that she is deeply missed. Your love must have been a very special thing. Lowell looks away from the phone, tears in his eyes. But not tears of sorrow, tears of anger. How dare they? How dare some piece of shit tech company use his grief to make a buck?
He should forward the email to the authorities. He should try to get them shut down. Fucking ghouls! Fucking ghouls! He throws his phone on the bed. Then the struggling AC gets his attention and he remembers he was looking up where to get filters. He picks his phone back up but deletes the offending email before continuing his search. Hear that? Big waves are calling. Dive into refreshment with Kona Big Wave. Tropical flavor and the taste of aloha in every drop.
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"We appreciate your help, sir, but in the future, please leave any room maintenance to the professionals." "How do you know I'm not a professional? I could have my HVAC certification." "Do you, sir?" "Well, no." "Have a great rest of your day, sir." Noel nods, smiles, and leaves the lobby, tucking the printed receipt into his satchel. They send an email version, but he's learned not to trust corporations and their tech abilities, so a printed receipt is always in hand when he leaves a hotel.
In his car, he tosses the satchel onto the passenger seat, checks his car's dashboard map to make sure he has the first account's address loaded in, and starts his car. His phone rings from his pocket. "Dang it!" he says, and pulls it out before backing up. He doesn't recognize the number, so he lets it go to voicemail. The day is already hot and muggy, and it's only nine in the morning.
Kentucky in the middle of summer is not his favorite part of his sales route, but he wasn't able to get to his accounts during the winter due to… well. Noel backs up, cranks the car's AC, and heads off to his first appointment. By lunchtime, he's sweated through his shirt and is starving. Not a great combination. He needs to find a chain restaurant where he can switch out shirts and sit in a cool booth for an hour before his afternoon appointment.
Between the weather and the snotty desk clerk that morning, Noel is not in a great mood, and clients can sense that. Sales had already suffered that morning because he was a little snippy. "Sweet tea with lemon, please," he tells the waiter when the man comes for his drink order. "Right away, sir." Noel's phone rings. Annoyed and hangry, he doesn't look at the number and just answers it.
This is no Lowell. Mr. Lowell, it's great to be able to reach you. My name is Harlan Eller with Re:Incarnate. We've been trying to get a hold of you but haven't been able to connect. Is this a good time to talk? Who? Harlan Eller. I'm the Chief Customer Relations Officer for Re:Incarnate. We've sent you a couple of emails that you have opened but didn't respond to. I also left you a voicemail this morning.
I've been busy. I haven't listened to the voicemail. Oh, I am sure with your work schedule, you barely have time to take care of yourself, let alone deal with outside distractions. But, and I mean this sincerely, I hope you are taking care of yourself, Mr. Lowell. You aren't indulging in too many carne asada burritos or bacon burgers, are you? Lowell straightens up and glares down at the menu in front of him. He was going to order the bacon burger.
What the hell is this about? Who the hell are you? Harlan Eller, Chief Customer Relations. No, no, I heard that. I mean, who are you? As in, what the hell is Incarnate? And why are you harassing me? Re-Incarnate. What? Our company name is Re-Incarnate. Seriously? Like in the email subject heading? I thought it meant "regarding Incarnate." Your actual name is Re-Incarnate?
"It is, and we are quite proud of it, especially considering what we do." "Oh? And what is it you do?" "Here you go, sir," the waiter says, returning with his sweet tea with lemon. "Ready to order, or do you need a minute?" "Hold on," Noel says. "I'll be right back. No, not you. Hold on." Noel looks down at the menu and frowns. He slaps it shut. "I'll have the chicken Caesar salad and a side of fries, thanks." "Great, I'll put that right in for you," Noel grunts.
"I wanted the fucking bacon burger, but you ruined that," he says into his phone. He rubs his face then freezes. "Wait, how do you know I like bacon burgers?" "Doesn't everyone?" "Seriously, you said carne asada burritos and bacon burgers. Did you put spyware on my phone? I only opened the email, I didn't click on anything." "No sir, nothing as nefarious or illegal as that." "Then how do you know what I like to eat?" "Your wife told us."
Noel is about to take a sip of his sweet tea, but he has to set the glass down fast before it slips from his suddenly numb fingers. In fact, his entire body is numb. "What the fuck did you just say?" "Dang it, there I go again. This isn't how it should…" Noel hears the man sigh. "How about this, Mr. Lowell? Can we set up a time for me to give you a little presentation? I can do it remotely if you have, say, 30 minutes later this afternoon or this evening."
You're in Kentucky, but I'm in California. So the time difference is in my favor. I'm happy to- I don't want any presentation from you. I have no idea who you are and the fact that you fucking dared to bring my wife into this tells me that all you're trying to do is toy with my emotions so you can get money out of- She already paid us, Mr. Lowell. Your wife paid us to provide this service. All I am doing is fulfilling your wife's wishes. Did she not mention us?
No, she didn't mention a stupid fucking company called Incarnate. Re-incarnate. Whatever! 30 minutes of your time, and after that, if you want nothing to do with us, we'll cancel the contract and refund you the balance. 30 minutes is all I ask. How much of a balance? $14,000. Noel tries to take another sip of his sweet tea, but almost chokes himself on the straw when he hears that amount. $14,000? She paid you $14,000?
She paid us $26,000, but $14,000 is left on the balance after setup and processing charges. Jesus Christ! Your salad and fries, sir, the waiter says, setting the plates in front of Noel. Would you like cracked pepper on your salad? Yes. Great, Mr. Lowell, Harlan says. I'll call you at 5.30 this evening, your time. Feel free to email me or text me if you need a different time. Looking forward to it.
"No wait, I wasn't saying yes to…" Noel wants to slam his phone down on the table, but he can tell other customers are already watching him. "No? You don't want pepper, sir?" Noel stares up at the waiter. "I do want pepper, yes. I just don't want a sales pitch. I uh… okay. Pepper it is. Hold the sales pitch." Noel stares at the salad bowl as black chunks of peppercorns rain down on the dressed lettuce and grilled chicken.
Noel walks up to the hotel desk and says, "Noel Lowell, I have a reservation." "Oh yes, Mr. Lowell," the clerk says, his teeth way too white against his fake tan skin. "You have a package." "I what?" "I haven't checked in yet. How can I have a package?" The clerk turns up the wattage of his too-white smile. "Well, I don't know the answer to that. Someone must know you well. Anyway, here you go."
He reaches under the desk and pulls out a flat, rectangular box and sets it on the desk. He slowly slides it across to Noel. I've never heard of Re:Incarnate before, but I looked up their website and wow! I have to say they do some trippy stuff. Bringing back the dead by using a person's online profile, plus interviews and a proprietary AI matrix that creates a lifelike avatar? Not sure how I feel about that.
"That's what it does?" Noel says, picking up the box and turning it over in his hands. "That's insane. Or cool. I wish I could talk to my grandmother again. Although, considering the stuff she posted online before she died, I'm not sure which grandma I'd get, if you know what I mean." Noel laughs and finishes checking in. Then, with a hurried thank you and goodbye, he takes his keycard and the delivered package up to his room.
When he's inside and settled, Noel finds a pocket knife in his satchel and cuts the package's taped end. He tips up the box and out slips a padded tablet. The second he sets it on the room's desk, the tablet boots up with the bright red "Reincarnate" logo in the middle. "They're persistent. I'll give them that," Noel says. He checks his watch. "Let's see if they are punctual too." At exactly 5:30, his phone rings.
Mr. Lowell, thank you for answering. Hello Harlan, I'm guessing you sent the tablet? I did! It has the presentation on it, plus any and all software you could need. We understand that people are wary of downloading attachments on their computers, or putting strange apps on their phones, so we cut that part out. The tablet before you has everything you need to help fulfill your wife's wishes.
She died.
"Yes. I am so sorry, Mr. Lowell." "I'm going to need to see that NDA. I know my wife's signature. I also know her online scratchings that she called a signature. So if you try to fake it, I'll catch your ass. Understood?" "Loud and clear, Mr. Lowell." Noel pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. "Fine. Start the presentation." "Great. If you'll direct your attention to the tablet, I'll begin.
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Stunned.
That's how Noel feels after hanging up with Mr. Eller. The presentation was exactly 30 minutes as promised, but Noel had questions. Lots of questions. Two exhausting hours later, Noel contemplates showering and going to bed. Or finding some late-night dive where he can get the greasiest burger ever created and a very cold, very bottomless sweet tea. Extra sweet. Snatching up his keys and the tablet, he decides on the latter.
As Noel pulls into an all-night diner's parking lot, the tablet dings. "Would you like to start the trial tonight?" The message on the tablet reads. Then, "This is Harlan, by the way. If you say yes, then all interactions from here on out will be with your wife." Noel shudders. It's like a digital monkey's paw in a way.
Except he gets as many wishes as he wants, and his wife doesn't come back as an undead something, clawing her way out of the grave and limping towards the front door like in the short story. Or Noel hopes that's not how it all ends. Sure, let's do this, Noel says. He goes to reach for the tablet to respond to the message, but instead, he pulls his hand back as the tablet says, Hey baby, miss me?
The voice coming from the tablet is Georgina's. Not a fake one, but actually her voice. Noel would bet his own soul on it. "Georgie?" he asks, scared out of his mind. But he's not just scared. He's hopeful too. "Yeah baby, it's me." "Prove it." "1998. That cabin in the backwoods of Maine. Six times in one night. It would have been seven except we both started feeling weird." "Why were we feeling weird?"
"Nol's eyes filled with tears.
"At least we got a son out of the ordeal," he says, his voice shaky. "A damn fine son. How is Chapman holding up? Has it been hard for him with me gone?" Noel's tears spill over, and he leans his head on the steering wheel. "He's good. He's great, really." "And the baby? Has the baby been born yet? Oh wait." There's a pause. "Sorry, it's still a couple of weeks away." "How do you know?"
"I can check the time and the date. Hell, baby, I can read all of your emails if you want." "Nah, then you'll find all my pirate-themed porn." "Oh, baby, I've known you like it by hook and by crook for a long time." Noel whispers. "Is it really you?" "It is, baby. Kinda. Not completely because, well, that would be impossible. But yes, it's me."
So, are you going to go in that diner and clog your arteries? Or are you gonna sit there and blubber for an hour? Neither. I'm going to go back to the hotel and have a nice long talk with my wife. Deal.
"So I said, 'What do you mean the decimal point is in the wrong place? That number looks good to me.'" "Oh, that's hilarious!" Georgina's voice cries from the tablet. "What did she say?" "She said she wanted the commission back, and I said, 'Over my wife's dead body!' She nearly shit herself when I said that. No one has said a word about the mistake since." "Oh, you still got it. You still got it. Crap, you missed your turn."
Noel frowns and looks at the tablet he has in a holder hanging off his car's dashboard. "How do you know I missed the turn?" "GPS, you should have turned back at Wilson Avenue." "I usually take Briar." "It'll save you six minutes if you take Wilson next time." "Are you sure? Wilson has that one intersection with that light that takes forever." "They fixed the timing on that light." Noel's frown deepens. "Oh, stop scowling and be happy you have a co-pilot." "You can see me?"
You're really gonna eat that, aren't you?
Noel grins as he picks up the bacon burger. Grease drips off the end and splatters on his mountain of crispy french fries. "You're just jealous," he says, his earbuds picking up his voice perfectly and transmitting it to the tablet propped up against the ketchup bottle on the table. "Damn right I am. I'd give my left tit for a bite of that burger. Shit baby, I'd give my right tit to have a left tit again." "I'd give a lot for your tits." The waitress passing by pauses and stares at Noel.
"Sorry," he says, and cocks his head so she can see an earbud. "I wasn't talking to you." She rolls her eyes and walks off. "That was awkward," he says when the waitress is fully out of earshot. Noel takes a bite of his burger and sighs. "So good, asshole," Georgina laughs. The road goes on and on for miles. "What's wrong, baby?" "Nothing." "I don't believe you. I can tell something is wrong," Noel sighs.
Fine. I got an email from Re:Incarnate yesterday. The funds you set aside have run out. I need to start paying them a monthly fee, or all of this stops. So? Pay the fee? We have plenty in the savings account. Yeah, well... not as much as you'd think. Why? What happened to the money?
She sighs, and Noel can't help but think how much it sounds like Georgina really is in the car with him.
I miss you so much. I miss you too. But at least we have this, right? I'll always be with you. There's always a way. A $600 a month fee way, yeah. Don't be like that. We can afford it. Business will pick back up. Yeah, you're probably right.
You can Venmo this, or you can Venmo that.
The Venmo MasterCard is issued by the Bancorp Bank, and a pursuant to license by MasterCard International Incorporated card may be used everywhere MasterCard is accepted. Venmo purchase restrictions apply. Harlan, you aren't listening to me. I'll have the money next month. A deal was just signed with the big dental chain, and I'll be able to pay... You are three months behind, Mr. Lowell. We have a strict 60-day policy, so to say I have not been listening is simply not accurate. I have listened, and I have given you an extra 30 days that I did not have to give you.
"But next month I'll..." "You said that last month, and the month before that, Mr. Lowell. I am sorry, but unless you make a full payment for all money owed by tomorrow morning at 9am, you will lose access to Georgina." "You have to be kidding me!" "I'm not, Mr. Lowell. I truly wish this could be." "Oh, go fuck yourself." Noel throws his phone across his car. It bounces off the passenger window and is lost between the seats. "Great! Just fucking great!"
Hey baby, calm down. We'll get through this. No Georgie, we won't. There's nothing left. No savings, nothing in checking. I'm paying for gas with credit cards. I don't have the money. I just don't have the fucking money. I know a way. What do you mean? How can you know a way? We have no money. You don't have a job and mine isn't paying shit right now. There is no way. Reincarnate has a new program they are testing and they need volunteers.
Harlan didn't say anything about that. He wouldn't. It's above his pay grade. How do you know about it? I may have been doing some snooping. You can snoop? I can do all sorts of things. I bet you can. You always could. That's sweet. Noel's phone rings and vibrates, but he can't get to it. He's not even sure exactly where it is. Okay. So what's the new program?
The screen on the tablet comes to life, and a series of documents streams by. "Georgie? What's all this?"
When the exit comes up, Noel takes it quickly, getting a honk from an angry minivan trying to reverse out of a parking spot. "Okay, what am I looking at?" "Just sign the documents, and we'll both be enrolled in the new program." "Sign? More paperwork?" "Just formalities. We have to make sure everything is on the up-and-up so they can't separate us." "Separate us? What does that mean?" "The new program is for couples." "Couples?" Noel thinks for a second, then shudders.
You mean dead couples? Well, yes. They don't need live couples. Defeats the point of their technology. But I'm not dead, Georgie. Georgie? I'm not dead. We could be together forever, Noel. Forever. But I have to die? How is that better than this? It isn't better. It's the only way. If you don't sign and join this program, then as of this time tomorrow, I'll be gone.
Yeah, but the deal is going through. I can start paying again next month. Start right back up where we left off. No. Did you read the agreement you signed? The NDA? Um, a little. That's a no. Well, if you had read it, you would have noticed that the monthly fees are for storage and services. Storage, baby. If you don't pay, they stop storing me. I'll be erased so they can devote more computing power to others. Noel shudders again. You'll...
You'll die? Again? To be blunt, baby? Yes. I'll die again. Jesus Christ! It's hard, I know. I can't lose you a second time, Georgie. I can't. I know, baby. I know. So just sign the new agreement, and we can be together forever.
Noel swallows hard. He stares out of his windshield at the small patch of grass where a mom and her two kids are walking their golden retriever. He remembers when he and Georgina would take road trips with Chapman and their black lab. Noel was looking forward to road trips with his grandchild, whom he still hasn't met because work has been a nightmare. But then Georgina never got to meet the baby either. She missed out on so much and will continue to miss out on so much.
It's not fair that Noel has to do it all alone. It's not fair. "I'll sign," he says and reaches for the tablet. "Chapman? Chapman Lowell?" "Yes, who is this?" Chapman asks as he drives his baby daughter to daycare so he can go sit in an office cubicle for eight hours for the privilege of getting to do it all again tomorrow.
Hi, Chapman. My name is Harlan Eller, and I work for Reincarnate. I sent you a couple of emails last week. Yeah, I got them. Just haven't had a chance to look them over. You're the people who my dad was talking about. He was going to surprise us with something to do with you all, but then...
Yes, yes, I am so sorry for your loss. It's always sad when people take their own lives. But, you see, Chapman, here at Re:Incarnate, we try to help fight that sadness. We want to bring joy back to those who are suffering.
Well, you have a great pitch. Sure my dad loved it. He always appreciated a good sales pitch. But I'm not interested. And we can't afford it anyway. Oh, don't worry about that. A portion of your father's life insurance has been set aside to help pay for the service. What? It has? How? Oh, he made the arrangements right before he died. He wanted you to have the same great experience he had.
Yeah, I don't think so. "Hey, kid!" "Hi, sweet boy!" Chapman almost drives off the road when he hears his parents' voices. "Mom? Dad?" "It's us, kid! 100% us! I told you I had a surprise for you!" "Yeah, then you killed yourself in a rust-off parking lot. So forgive me if I take what you say with a grain of salt!" Chapman sighs. "Like this is real anyway."
"Oh, it's real, sweet boy. So very real. Listen to your mother, kid. She knows what she's talking about." "Mr. Lowell? Harlan here again." "How'd you do that?" "Well, I'd love to show you and talk more about it." Chapman sees his turn ahead and puts on his blinker. "Listen, I have to drop Eliza off then get to work. I don't have time for any presentation."
Chapman takes his turn.
"Great, Mr. Lowell," Arlen says. "I'll call you at 7:30 this evening, your time. You'll love the presentation, I know it. We here at Re:Incarnate are all about feeding grief and keeping families together. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
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