Labrador – Ameravith

When our time comes, how will it go for us? We wonder and may have our own preference – and not so much a choice – on how the end should come to pass. Most of us would prefer to avoid violent, spectacular exits and choose one that’s peaceful, where all loose ends had been tied up and everything that needs to be said, has been said in the relationships that matter most to us. Some would like it where the spirit of the recently departed lingers to say goodbye, before taking leave. I’d imagine that’s reasonable to want. Personally, I prefer stories where the characters leave their bodies in a dignified manner, the energy of their earth-bound selves – call it Soul or any other name you like – levitating gently and floating away into a night sky splattered with stars. In the movies, such an exit would be witnessed by a fallen character, like an excommunicated priest whom nobody would believe if he related what he’d seen. But in reality, death might turn out to be more mundane and, in contrast, more mysterious than we expect it to be.

Continue reading “Soul Road Trip”

I.
Khara was waiting for breakfast, looking at the perfectly maintained backyard through a glass wall that took up the entire west wall of the dining cum kitchen. She was lost in her thoughts, barely noticing her little brother outside, playing with their dog, a mature Labrador. Even though the sliding doors were shut, she could hear faintly the alternating barks and shouting. She lost track momentarily then she heard laughter as the dog leaped onto the boy and both rolled on the perfectly maintained grass.
‘Breakfast is ready,’ a calm female voice sounded on the counter where Khara was seated.
She reached over, softly depressed a circular button that was the same colour as the counter top and a panel slid open where she had been leaning her arms on. Fresh toast and orange juice came up on a white plate and ceramic cup. She picked up the chilled juice and sipped it, feeling as she usually did in the mornings, wistful and a bit lazy.
Mum buzzed into the kitchen with her usual, brisk pace, dressed in a neat pantsuit that matched her nicely plaited hair. She gave Khara a peck on her cheek as she passed.
‘Good morning Punchkin. Where’s Levin?’
The girl lazily pointed with her finger to the glass wall while munching her toast. Mum followed her gaze to the garden.
‘Please call him in. There’s just enough time for an unhurried breakfast before the transport arrives.’
Khara leaned over the same speaker she had used to give instructions for breakfast and said,
‘Get Levin,’
A small screen lit up next to the speaker and the boy’s face came up, moving erratically before going off screen,
‘Levin! Mum wants you to come in. Breakfast!’
The boy came back into view. Khara looked out to the garden and saw the boy now on one knee peering at the dog’s collar. She saw him move his mouth over there and his voice popped out of the speaker beside her,
‘Five more minutes, pleaseee….’
Mum leaned over Khara’s shoulder,
‘Levin, please come inside now! You’ve had your fun.’
Through the glass wall, Khara watched Levin, with a shake of the head, get up and stomp to the door on the side, the dog quickly realizing where he was going and following at his heel. As he came in, mum was already sitting at the counter with both her and Levin’s plates ready, gave another instruction,
‘Put him away please. You have exactly fifteen minutes before the transport arrives.’
Levin went to a rectangular door by the wall and tapped it. The door slid open to reveal a recess with a charging dock.
‘Come on Helium. Here.’
The Labrador went over obediently – no hesitation – and turned around and sat. Levin reached over, ruffled the dog’s fur several times and then, pressed a hidden point on the animal’s neck. The dog became still. He pulled a wire out and attached it into an opening under a flap just along the dog’s backbone. Its eyes closed and it became completely motionless. The wall socket had a series of indicator lights that were running continuously. Levin stepped out and shut the door of the recess. Continue reading “Family”