My father died two years ago. It's hard to say exactly, although the moment of his death was definitely there. However, the definition of this moment has always raised questions. At first, death was associated with a simple respiratory arrest. Then with a cardiac arrest, it was noticed that for a few more days the deceased could grow hair and nails. Finally, when medicine finally decided on the place of storage of the human soul, death was finally associated with the cessation of normal brain activity. But even in this case, there were loopholes, because the brain can function partially. And, on the contrary, even with a completely dead brain. The rest of the body can still be kept alive with the help of not particularly sophisticated medical devices. Formally, a person remains with his life, and his unhappy relatives with a difficult question: to support or interrupt this "life".
However, this was not my father's case. He died two years ago. At some point, the last cell of his body stopped living. It died. This is a statistical, mathematical, medical, biological fact! It died.
It's hard to admit, but this moment did not become a tragedy for anyone in our family. This moment was not preceded by any sorrowful expectation. This moment did not become a sad relief, as often happens with people who have been ill for a long time and gradually die; or a soul-tearing shock, as happens in the case of a sudden, unexpected death. We just didn't notice it…
I remember that evening very well. The father returned from work as usual around 7 pm. He leisurely sat down at the table, and together we began to have dinner. Conversations about official matters were not accepted at our table. He and Mom discussed some news. My father asked me on duty how my day had gone. I answered him just as dutifully. After that, he continued his conversation with his mother. I don't remember exactly what they were talking about. I remember that from the very beginning of the dinner, I was only interested in one question. It was sitting in my brain like a red-hot needle, but I didn't dare to voice it, as if choosing the right moment.
Finally, when mom had already collected the plates and went to wash them in the kitchen, the pause in silence seemed too long to me, and I asked:
— Dad, have you been to the doctor?
—Yes," my father replied, a little too casually.
The second part of the question was much more difficult for me than the first.
— And when will that happen? I finally managed to get out of myself.
My father tried not to show it, but I noticed that for a moment he shuddered slightly. As if on purpose, he paused a little, sipped tea from a cup, and then answered:
— It's already happened.
— What happened? I was taken aback.
"Yes," my father said, as casually as the first "Yes".
"And when?"
— The day before yesterday. On the weekend. Maybe last week. The doctor can't say for sure, but now the process is completely over..." my father's words began to fade into some kind of emptiness, echoing in my head like an echo.
—Is it... definitely?..
— Definitely, — he looked me straight in the eye, — Why? Have you noticed anything strange lately?
— No... Dad…
Probably at that moment my gaze expressed much more than I could put into words myself, because my father sighed heavily, got up and walked around the room from side to side. He seemed to be considering what to say himself.
— Do you think that I have become "someone else"? Will it be hard for you to call me "Daddy" now? It's a shame," he went into a kind of counterattack, and it was so like him that for a moment I even calmed down.
—I... no.
"Then what's the matter?" — father, whoever he is now, paused, — Perhaps you would like it if I lied to you?
"You've never lied to me.
— And it's true. I've always tried to tell you the truth! Even when you didn't like her... Remember? Just like last year when I said I didn't like your boyfriend.
Sudden examples from my own life were Dad's hobby.
— Yes, but... He wasn't my boyfriend... Dad…
— It doesn't matter. He was an invalid.
—A person with disabilities," I clarified.
— Let it be so! Crippled. The fact is that he didn't have a leg, but instead he used this fancy electronic thing…
"A cybernetic prosthesis," I corrected once again.
I must say that my father was well versed in modern technologies, but often deliberately tried on the role of an "old man", in whose youth "there was no such thing". He usually did this in order to convey some idea to the listener in such a strange way, but at the same time he did not listen to anyone…
— Yes, he even charged it via USB like some kind of smartphone! — my father stopped abruptly and exhaled, as if wanting to calm down by making this strong—willed decision, and then sat down in a chair and, looking at me, continued more calmly, "Without a real leg ... did he remain a full-fledged person for you?
With this paradoxical question, he suddenly drove me into a dead end along with all my political correctness:
— Of course... but…
— But?
— It's different, isn't it…
— Another one? — the father smiled sarcastically, — Absolutely! The technology of cellular nanoprosthetics is "something else" compared to screwing a spring and a battery-powered motor to your stump. But how long has my modern and advanced daughter become such a retrograde?
I knew in advance what my father, or the one he turned into, would say next. This conversation was repeatedly conducted in our family even before he finally decided to undergo this procedure. No, probably, I still didn't dare, but just stopped listening to objections.
Heck! I still think it's mostly marketing. Most of the arguments still sound like advertising slogans from the pages of color booklets that have recently been inundated with all hospitals.
"Cell-by-cell nanoprosthetics. The Holy Grail of medicine has been found! The key to immortality is already inside you. In your cages! We only give your body the right direction and, using the natural, natural mechanism of cell division, allow you to become better. Just one injection, and in 17 months all the cells of your body will be replaced with perfect biochemical machines. Infectious diseases, dysfunction of internal organs, genetic abnormalities, age—related changes and even aging are all in the past. Thousands of people have already undergone the procedure without any side effects. Join them! The only thing you still have to worry about is crossing the street at a green light."
— Well, that's enough, Dad, — I interrupted, — I've heard all this from you many times.
— "Dad"? Am I still "Dad"? My father retorted gloomily.
He was silent for a while. It was obvious that he was upset, but I knew I didn't want to upset him. Just like the fact that now he will try to make me feel guilty.
— I'm sorry… It might have been a lot easier for you if your old man had grown old in front of your eyes.… I would have lost my mind, maybe I would have started shitting under myself, and eventually died ....
— Dad, stop it!
- I'm sorry that I don't want to die. I'm sorry about that.
— Well, that's enough! — I almost shouted, — Stop making a monster out of me, Dad!
— Come on! Don't you see the monster in me?! Daddy Frankenstein? It's so unnatural!
At that moment, the man who had once definitely been my father began to annoy me more than ever. Trying not so much to insist on my own as to hurt him, I blurted out firmly and loudly:
- yes! It's unnatural!
It seems to have had too much effect. The father fell silent, his face became thoughtful and somehow gray. He slowly got up from his seat, crossed the room and, pulling back the curtain, looked out of the window.
— And today it's warm ... — he said thoughtfully, — Kira didn't even want to go into the house. There she is… Sleeping on the stairs by the veranda. She was given to my mother and me as a one-year-old puppy… You weren't born then, but your mother was already pregnant. We thought it would be great if our little girl would communicate with animals from childhood. You would grow up, play together, become friends. And so it turned out. It makes people kinder, teaches them to take care..." my father paused for a moment and looked at me again with his prickly, probing gaze, "Now you are 27 years old. Do you think an ordinary German Shepherd would have lived that long?
"You mean...
unnatural," my father nodded. — Well, I'm sorry! Maybe it would be easier for you to bury it in the backyard.
He closed the curtains and returned to his chair. It was obvious from his face and posture that he was tired of this conversation, which was very difficult for both of us.
— Dad, I'm sorry… I had no right to judge you. Actually, it's your own business... And I was disgustingly rude…
He was sitting comfortably in a chair, right across from me. I've seen him like this many times in my life. A familiar face from childhood, a familiar voice, familiar movements. But still, in my mind, like an annoying fly, a treacherous thought was spinning — "it's not him." This new creature somehow got all its similarity from my "real dad", who is no longer here. There is not a single particle of it here anymore. I was ashamed, but I could not get rid of this disgusting thought.
— Nothing! — he waved his hand wearily, which almost immediately sank back onto the armrest, — You know, the ancient Greeks have a myth about the ship on which Theseus returned from the island of Crete after defeating the Minotaur. This ship was kept by the Athenians for many years and, if possible, preserved in its original form. However, sometimes when repairing old boards, they still changed to new ones. Until there are no old boards left at all. And then the Greeks wondered: is this the ship on which Theseus sailed and which they so carefully kept, or is it already new? The paradox…
My father leaned his head back in his chair and closed his eyes in peace. It seemed that he was already asleep and in a dream a Greek ship torn by a storm under a black sail floated before his eyes.
— And how did they solve it?
— in no way ... — the father answered, without opening his eyes, — And they could not solve it in any way. You see, it's not about whether the ship is old or new. The fact is that he thinks about it himself.
— What do you think?
"About the ship?"
— About yourself... and us. You've thought about what's going to happen next, haven't you? You don't have to bury the Kira in the backyard. But you'll have to see mom grow old and die... And then I…
My father sat up a little and looked at me.
— Well, of course, I thought about everything. We discussed everything with your mother a long time ago and came to the right decision together. So I won't have to bury it in the backyard either.
— Mom ... too?!
Father nodded.
— She is the first member of our family to undergo the procedure... except for the dog.
— And she was silent all the time… How could she hide it from me?!
— Maybe she just didn't want such an unpleasant conversation… What do you think?
— So you were only the second.
— No, — there was a twinkle in my father's eyes, which seemed to me somehow un-humanly sinister, - I was only the third…