The Yoneda Llemma

How would you react if a ghost from your past showed up at your door demanding custody of your child? Obviously, you’d kick them to the curb. But what if that ghost was you?

Mar 27, 2023

A typical family home in a typical American town in 2092

It was a loving family evening. Lashonda and Craig's dear daughter Olivia had just said her first word: "Da Da." They were all in good spirits, enjoying each other and the marvel that was their beautiful baby daughter when they heard a loud thump-thump on their front door.

They were not expecting any visitors so their collective mood quickly changed to one of suspicion. The air charged with tension.

Craig walked towards the front door as Lashonda scooped up both their girls from the floor. Seven year old Jasmine and ten month old Olivia both felt the change in mood and made no fuss, something wildly unusual in the Henderson household.

Craig grabbed the baseball bat they kept for protection. "Go in the kitchen," he said, as he crept cautiously up to the front door. He looked out through the curtains and saw just about as strange a sight as anyone can see.

Standing on his porch was himself, Craig.

Craig opened the door just a crack and held his finger up in a motioned pause: "Hold on" Craig said before he quickly shut the door and went to get Lashonda.

"Lashonda!" he called. "You need to come here right now."

Before she was out of the kitchen he was saying, "my past self is standing on the porch."

Lashonda's stomach dropped, and she almost did too, tripping on the entry rug and falling right into Craig's arms, cradling their youngest as the older ran along behind. Craig leaned her back onto her feet and they walked slowly together to the front door to meet this familiar stranger from their past.

They carefully opened the door as if expecting a tiger to be sitting on the porch.

Their first good look at the visitor felt like looking in the mirror, but with some kind of a filter. The reflection was somehow older, more tired looking. The difference in age was more than a few months, it was more than a deeper tan and more sun damage on his skin. It was a barely perceptible roughness that seemed to start deep down in his soul and spread out to an aura of his entire disposition. It was in his choice of clothes, functional, but faded and fuzzy like they've been washed too many times, his shoes, sneakers with holes worn through so his socks could be seen, and eyes, eyes that sank slightly inward behind folds in the eyelids.

"Can I talk to you alone, away from that" long lost Craig motioned to the Craig standing next to his wife.

"Anything you'd like to say to me you can say to both of us." Lashonda shot back, wrapping her arm around her Craig's waist.

"I want custody of my daughter." Long lost Craig said.

It took Lashonda only a half second to recover from the shock of this request before she handed Olivia to her Craig and used her free arm to hold tightly onto Jasmine who was leaning into the back of her leg and peering around at the strange but familiar man on her porch. "Why on Earth would I allow Jasmine to be around you? What happened to you? Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to reach out to you."

Lashonda stared back at him. The loss of his disappearance converted to anger that bubbled up inside her as she realized that all the hurt he had caused her had not been some unfortunate sailing accident, but instead something else. Something very likely to be far more personal.

She didn't trust herself to speak. She hoped her anger was misplaced. She stared back at him, waiting for him to continue.

"I know it's been a long time."

Lashonda bubbled over before she could think, "a long time!? Seven years, yes, that is a long time. I thought you were dead!"

"No, no. It would have been easier if I had been. For you I mean." He looked upset by his choice of words. "What I want to say is, I'm her father, and I should be in her life."

"Your time for that has passed." Lashonda said. "What right do you have to come in here and disturb my family? Our family." She said while squeezing her Craig tighter. "You left us. You…" and she felt her emotions bubbling over again with an overwhelming urge to cry. She forced it down and replaced it with a shield of anger. "Where did you go?!"

"That's not important right now. Can I see my daughter?" Long lost Craig stepped a half a step into the door frame towards Jasmine with an outstretched hand. "Hey Jasmine, it's me. I'm your father."

Lashonda stepped slightly back, pulling her whole family back with her. "Don't."

Long lost Craig turned his attention back to Lashonda, his tone was arrogant, defensive, condescending. "Why are you being like this? I needed some time alone, and I found myself out there. I was wrong to leave you but I want to make that right. Now. Not with us, that ship has sailed. Clearly." He scoffed, looking quickly over at his copy. "But for Jasmine, I can be there for her."

"Why? Why now?" Lashonda's voice crackled with stifled angry tears.

Craig exhaled deeply, a weighty sigh. "I know it's hard. I'm sorry to do this to you. Especially after so long. But I have to. I know what is important now." He paused for a moment, considering telling the story, but thinking better of it. "I've made some changes. People depend on me now. I never had a purpose before. I've made a big difference in a lot of people's lives. But there was one life I have not been a part of that I really should be. I need to be a good father. I want to be a good father. I will be a good father." He looked again at his copy and his tone changed to a much darker one. "I am her father. This…android…" Lashonda covered Jasmine's ears as fast as she could, but she knew it had been too late. "…should not be raising my kid." Long lost Craig finished his sentence as Craig, who had been watching Lashonda carefully for a sign, decided to take action. He moved the full weight of his body in between his past self and Lashonda, shepherding the intruder out past their door frame.

"You abandoned Jasmine and I for seven years and you expect me to, what, embrace you with open arms and replace this man who has loved and supported me for the last seven years as her father?!" Lashonda yelled around Craig's shoulder as he closed the door in long lost Craig's face.

Lashonda barely got the last part out as the tears started to flow and choked her voice. She buried her face in the available half of Craig's chest next to their baby.

"Look, I don't want to fight, just let me…" long lost Craig pleaded through the door but was cut off by Lashonda raising her head to yell:

"Get off my porch you bastard! Get out of here before I call the police!!" She buried her face back more deeply into Craig, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her husband pulled her deeper into their house, back to the living room and sat her down on the couch. He held her tightly with one arm while bouncing Olivia up and down with the other, for she had begun to cry too.

Long lost Craig stood on the porch for a while in stunned silence. Lashonda wondered if he was listening to her cry when she heard him yell, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

"Mommy, why are you crying?" Jasmine asked, tugging at Lashonda's shirt. She had climbed up on the couch to be closer to them all.

The sound of her daughter's voice snapped her back to the present. Her sobs stopped, she pulled her head back from Craig's chest and she embraced her daughter. "Mommy is just feeling some things about her past. I'll be OK in a bit, sweet pea." She said putting on a brave face through sniffles.

"Is it like a bad dream?" Jasmine asked.

"Yes, just like that. It will pass soon." She put her arms around her family and held them tight.

The next morning while Craig and Lashonda were washing up after breakfast, there was another knock on their door. Two police officers stood outside. The closest was a woman Craig knew from playing cards with her husband at their house. She was a slim blond woman of medium height that looked much more threatening under a bulletproof vest with her hair tightly pulled back, here on his porch than she did in her own home. Another, shorter, dark haired stocky man stood a step down from the porch, facing most of the way away from the door.

"I'm so sorry Lashonda but I have to take him down to the station. Have his lawyer come down and see him tomorrow. Chances are you'll have him out in no time." The closer cop said as she put cuffs on Craig. She would have been happy to make any excuse to not have to bring Craig to jail, but there weren't any excuses that would work.

"You are under arrest for the charge of impersonating a person. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future."

Craig was placed in the back of the squad car and as it drove down to the station the second cop, a young man fresh out of cadet school, started talking more loudly than was necessary for his partner sitting in the seat next to him to hear: "Did you hear about that android in Montana? The guy had it illegally made to help with chores and it killed him and stole his entire life, his wife, his kids. They found the poor guy buried in the woods behind the house. If you ask me that android should be destroyed. All androids should."

"Hush you, he can hear you in the back," the female cop said.

"Fine, let it hear me! Not like it has feelings."

"I apologize for my colleague Mr. Henderson. He's an ignorant person." The female cop said loudly, lifting her head and looking in the rear view mirror to make it clear that she was talking to Craig in the back

Craig chose not to join in, though he appreciated her statement. He had enough to worry about without antagonizing his arresting officer.

"If I'm ignorant then so are the fifteen experts I heard talking about it on TV."

"Oh, help you! Mr. Henderson has just the same feelings as you. You know they" she said 'they' slightly quieter than the rest of her sentence, "are grown exactly like a real baby, just faster."

"Biologically similar maybe, but it's not human. You can't be human without a soul, and one person can't have two souls. It's just how it is."

"Well for your information, I know Craig, he and my husband are good friends. I think he'd have noticed if Craig was something less than human."

The other cop snorted in discontent but had nothing further to say.

Craig's lawyer visited him in jail later that day. He informed Craig that long lost Craig was suing for half custody of Jasmine and to remove any custody from Craig. Long lost Craig claimed that as the genetic father of Jasmine that only he and Lashonda should be raising her. And if Lashonda didn't want to raise Jasmine with him then he should get sole custody. As part of the lawsuit, he'd formally accused husband Craig of being an android and accused him of endangering Jasmine with his implied soulless ways. This had triggered a warrant for his arrest and an investigation that could lead to Lashonda’s Craig being "reappropriated" like some unused funds in an organization. His lawyer assured him that "reappropriation," known more colloquially as being killed/murdered/or given the death penalty when applied to humans, was entirely unlikely, and in-fact, had never happened in cases like these.

Furthermore, the lawyer had been instructed by Lashonda to tell Craig that there was no way that she was going to let that happen. The lawyer pointed out that, not that it should matter, but they were indeed lucky that there was no way their town was going to let it happen either. It was a small town of eight thousand people nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Lashonda and Craig were both active in the community, well liked and respected by those that they knew. But they did not know everyone.

Their friends helped out Lashonda and the kids while Craig was in jail for three months before the first hearing. His bail was set very high. Lashonda had done everything she could to get Craig out on bail, she had even tried to sell their house but Craig wouldn't let her, "you need a place to live", he had said, and he had thought "in case I can't come back," but he had not said that part. For some reason, the law was very strict regarding androids, even potential androids were not allowed to roam free. Like a serial killer or something, Craig had told Lashonda on one of her visits to the jail. It made no sense to them.

The first day of the trial was on a Tuesday. The whole town took the day off, it seemed, to crowd the little courtroom and set up on the lawn out front with TV screens. It was a community affair and, as with any community affair, the two loudest opinions were on opposite sides. Thoughtful moderates don't shout as loud.

Craig walked past the crowd with his police escort. He passed through the heavy wooden doors that were opened just for him, and into the courtroom. "From one jail to another", he thought as the heavy doors closed solidly behind him. Craig noticed the loud click of them latching into place, it sounded too final. He wasn't ready for his life to be over. He hoped he'd be able to leave through those doors again and return to the life that he had been so happy in.

The police walked Craig down the aisle that split the room. The high ceilings of the space left room for an upper clerestory with a few rows of stadium seating that were empty but would soon be packed to the brim with the crowd that awaited eagerly outside. Rows of hard, wood chairs sat like empty church pews on either side of the aisle, soon also to be filled with people that would sit and judge him.

When they reached the front of the room, the police sat Craig down at a table where Lashonda and their two lawyers were already seated. She leaned over and gave him a loving peck on the cheek and put her hand warmly on his thigh. They had seen each other through plexiglass walls, and spoken only through a phone line, but they hadn't touched each other for almost three months. It was incredible bliss. Craig responded by leaning in close to her so their arms touched below the shoulder. It filled them both with warmth from head to toe.

After a few minutes of connecting again they sat upright in their chairs, out of respect for the place they were sitting. The room was quiet and it felt inappropriate to talk much. There wasn't much to say, they had done all their preparation over many long days with their lawyers. They sat in solemn silence awaiting the presence of the judge, Craig's hand resting gently on Lashonda's hand, both resting gently on her thigh, discreetly under the table.

Craig looked around the room and across the aisle at long lost Craig who sat at another table with his two lawyers. He didn't judge this other man he didn't know. But he wanted to know, he wanted to understand. Craig didn't hate his other self. He wasn't angry. In fact, truth be told, he was quite grateful. If long lost Craig had not made the decisions that he had, when he had, Craig wouldn't have even had a chance at life. But he wondered how on Earth long lost Craig could have left the wonderful woman and child that he cared for every day. He had thought a lot about it, and he couldn't imagine anything better than the life he currently had. There was literally nowhere he'd rather be, so how were he and the other Craig so different when they were supposed to be the same?

A short portly clerk walked in from a side door and brought an immediate lift to the feeling of the room as the two other clerks that were already in the room, and one of the lawyers, all exhaled happily in recognition of him. This portly clerk called out to the clerk below the judge's table. He spoke in the relaxed colloquial drawl that made the more rural locals of this region seem extra friendly to outsiders like Craig and Lashonda.

"Aw, you been promoted again I heard?"

The other clerk laughed a short, relaxed, pleasant laugh. "Yessir."

"If I didn't know better I'd think your uncle worked upstairs!"

"Yeah I must be a nephew or something." He grinned, obviously happy at the attention and compliment.

The clerk continued his rounds, stopping at Craig's lawyer with a friendly tap on her table. "The sun's been blessing us recently."

Craig's trial lawyer stood up from her chair and engaged in pleasantries. "Yes, early summer this year I think!"

"I was outside yesterday talking to my neighbors and the sun was full on my porch. Oh, it was so nice. Then, you know, it inevitably went away. But two hours later it was back out, streaming through my windows!"

Craig was a bit miffed at this guy coming in and being so light on such a serious day. But that miff only lasted a moment. This guy was at his job, he wasn't on trial. Plus, Craig thought with a slight smile, it was nice to have such calm, happy, relaxation just before the nastiness that was sure to follow.

"You all ready?" The portly clerk said to the room at large with a smile that sounded more forced than his earlier happiness. Nods from the clerks and lawyers gave him permission to turn and make his way over to the main door. He opened it and a flood of public came in to fill the seats in the back

"All rise," said the judge's clerk. The judge appeared and the portly clerk made his way out of the room as the rest of the court rose and the court session began.

The entire proceeding was peppered with strange formalisms that Craig and Lashonda had never heard before. It was as if, within a courtroom, there was a different set of rules that stretched across almost everything from social decorum to language. It made it hard for them to predict what would happen next.

The judge went through some procedural explanations, describing how the court would go forward with the case and what the two lawyers' sides had already agreed to, and disagreed about. They were here to decide two things:

Is long lost Craig entitled to custody of his child, and if so, how much?

And, is Craig an illegal android that must be reappropriated?

"Let us start with the petitioner's opening statement." The judge's voice was soft and sounded reasonable enough to Craig.

Long lost Craig's lawyer stood and faced the judge. "Your honor. I bring before you today a case of stolen identity. My client is the father of that beautiful young girl" he motioned towards Jasmine who was seated with her sister behind Craig. "And my client would like custody of his daughter. It will become abundantly clear through the course of these proceedings that that man over there" he motioned at Craig "is in fact, not a man, but an android imposter…"

The judge slammed down her gavel and the lawyer held his tongue. "I'll not have such bigoted language in my court Mr. Abernathy."

Murmurs of disagreement had seeped from the crowd before the gavel came down but Craig knew a large number of them used the same kind of language. He was comforted to hear the judge wouldn't stand for it.

The lawyer bowed his head. "I apologize, your honor." He pointed again at Craig. "This imposter has stolen my client's life, his wife, his home, job and child. My client has the right to all of these but he asks only for custody of his child. My client is a reasonable, kind and loving man."

The lawyer sat down. Craig's lawyer stood. "Your honor. My clients reject any request for custody. You will find that my clients are good parents, good people, outstanding members of the community, and the petitioner abandoned his child and wife seven years ago. What claim does he have now that he has changed his mind? Why should he get to come back into the lives he sought to destroy seven years ago? My clients say he should not. He should stay away." The lawyer sat. A yelled agreement came from the clerestory. It was one of Lashonda's good friends.

"Order, order." The judge smashed her gavel a few times. "Please, I know this is a public proceeding, as it must be. We are transparent in our application of the law in the great state of California, but this is a house of the law. Please treat it with the respect it deserves." She eyed the clerestory in the direction of the whooper. After the length of her stare had made her point, she brought her attention back to the proceedings. "Mr. Abernathy, I believe you have some character witnesses."

The lawyer stood. "Yes, your honor. I call first to the stand, Father Gunther of the First Ecclesiastical Adventist Church on Morrison Avenue. The father was young for being a priest. He had a stiff pressed black smock with a white collar. He was sworn in on the Bible.

The lawyer Abernathy addressed the witness, "Mr. Gunther, in your own words, could you please tell me what makes someone human?"

"Well," Mr Gunther cleared his throat with two deep guttural sounds before continuing, "that is not an easy question to answer."

"Do your best, from the point of view of the church if you please."

"Simply put, a human has a soul. An essence that no animal can have, no rock or tree. It is that essence that can speak with God or be judged as good. Without it you can't reach heaven or hell. Without it you are inanimate."

"And how many can a person have?"

"Well one, by definition. One person, one soul."

Mr Abernathy yielded his time to Craig's lawyer who stood and walked up to the witness box. She paused, seeming to gather her thoughts before saying: "What about with identical twins?" She asked,"They come from the same egg, do they have one soul or two?"

The priest paused before speaking, "I've met some, and there is no doubt some have an uncanny insight into one another." He gave it a moment more thought. "Yet they are two distinct people. So they must have two souls."

"So at what point does the soul appear? Clearly it's not at conception."

"Indeed no, it must be some time during the growth of the baby in the womb, perhaps when the heart starts beating, it's not obvious."

"No it's not, but what is obvious, as you have pointed out, is that identical twins, who share all the same DNA, just as my client and the petitioner do, have two separate souls. So it stands to reason then that my client is just as likely to have a soul as you or I."

"Perhaps yes, and perhaps no. Who are we to meddle in the affairs of God? God created humans in his image. For humans to use their technology to create humans in their own image is blasphemy to God, an utmost disrespect and lack of humility that is sure to bring the wrath of God down upon, if not us, then at least those who perform such acts." Mr. Gunther motioned to Craig, "I see that shell sitting there. I see humanity's disrespect to God, and it pains me. It pains me because I don't see how, if your client does have a soul, how that soul can be saved. Why would God accept such an affront to his divine wisdom? Your client is a copy, a copy that was made in a laboratory." Mr. Gunther was so agitated that he was breathing too heavily to continue talking.

He breathed deeply, in and out, not speaking again until he had regained his composure. "What would happen if we made a hundred copies of…" He motioned to Craig. "Would they all be able to be saved? It's… It's just not…" He searched for the word he wanted to use. "It would be an affront to the divinity of God's creation. It's just not, right."

The crowd's murmurs had grown during Mr Gunther's outburst and reached at least one out right boo followed by a loud "Hey!" from elsewhere in the crowd as the judges gavel came down with a call for order.

Craig's lawyer faced the crowd as she walked back from the witness stand. She looked around the room as she said: "What could be more 'right' than two loving parents raising their children together?"

The crowd erupted in hollers of encouragement mixed with low boos of dissent. The judge's gavel came down again. "This is no circus Ms. Einrist. You'll address the front from now on."

Ms. Einrist turned and faced the judge. Ms. Einrist bowed politely. "Yes your honor, my apologies. I conclude my examination of this witness." She sat, content that she had made her point with little more than symbolic chastising.

"Mr. Abernathy," the judge said, "do you have any further questions for Mr. Gunther?"

Mr. Abernathy stood and leaned down to confer quietly with his colleague. He shook his head.

Seven years prior to long lost Craig's return

"Thank you."

The recognition filled Lashonda with warm tingles and unspilt tears collected in her eyes.

"You're most welcome," she replied.

Craig sat up in the hospital bed, his arms wobbled under his weight and he looked down at them in surprise.

"The nurses tell me it will take you some time to get your strength back. Your muscles are still kind of fresh." Lashonda said as she gently rubbed her palm on the back of his hand.

Craig heard Lashonda. He knew comfort in her voice. It was the deep familiarity that only comes with years and years spent together. If it hadn't been for that feeling, Craig would have been screaming.

It was kind of like a really bad hangover, except everything hurt and everything was moving. His head wasn't just spinning, it was vibrating too. His arms and legs were tingling, and his torso felt so heavy, like he could feel each cell in it for the first time. His world, his whole experience of this moment and everything he could remember felt this way. Everything felt … off. His whole body, his whole mind, everything was … different.

Everything except Lashonda. Where her hand touched his he was at peace. And the longer she held his hand, the farther up his arm that peace traveled.

He laid back down, covered his eyes with his inner elbow and tried to focus on something simple. His mind eye rested on the rhythm of his breathing. Then he paid attention to Lashonda's hand and that peace washed over him.

He uncovered his eyes and looked at Lashonda. "You really didn't have to…" Craig started, fumbling through his deluge of emotions all he could manage was … "I've not always been the best husband."

"But you're my husband. Oh, I've missed you" Lashonda eyes watered up as she gently rubbed her almost due baby bump. "I need you. We need you."

He reached out with his other hand to Lashonda and she clasped it tightly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Lashonda clenched his hand ever more tightly. He tried to sit up to reach her face but he was too weak. He leaned back again and put his hand on her hand, looking at her with all the force of a life of meaning. "You two are everything to me."

The judge lifted a paper off her desk and squinted down at it. "We have next, a neighbor, Mr. Alexander."

A short man in his mid fifties with close cropped dark hair with gray spreading up the sides and a wide and full dark mustache took the stand and was sworn in.

Mr. Abernathy stood and addressed the witness. "How do you know the impostor over there?"

"He is my neighbor across the street. I knew there was something wrong about him, I just knew it."

"What do you mean?"

"He skips mowing the lawn sometimes, the grass gets too long and I have to look at that eyesore across the street for weeks. WEEKS at a time!"

"And what else?"

"And they always have a third car in their driveway. Every evening it seems they have some person or other over, it must be some sort of elicit android gang they are running from their house."

"I conclude my questions. He's all yours Ms Einrist."

"Thank you." Ms. Einrist stood and addressed the witness. "Not mowing one's lawn and having guests over are hardly illegal Mr. Alexander. Do you think maybe you are simply a concerned neighbor treating my clients as you would any other neighbor?"

"No, I doubt it. They are different. Isn't it obvious?"

"To me, it is not obvious, no, they are the same as any other of your neighbors. Let's learn about your other neighbors, Mr. Alexander."

"I hardly see how that's relevant."

"Humor me, please."

The judge looked sternly down at the witness.

"Ok."

"How about Mr. and Ms. Jenkins next door to my clients. Do they have guests around and park an extra car?"

"Yes, but not as often. But they have this horrendous brown car, you know the kind with the wood paneling on the outside. That eye sore is right there out my window. Why anyone has such an ugly car I can't even begin to imagine."

"Thank you. Mr Alexander, that is all."

"But I didn't even tell you about their flamingos. Pink monstrosities…"

The judge cut him off. "Thank you Mr. Alexander, you can step down now."

Seven years and two and a half months prior to long lost Craig’s return

Lashonda and Craig had been on vacation in Mexico when Craig had said he needed some time alone. He hadn't explained why he needed it, but had been adamant about going despite Lashonda's concerns. Two days later they'd found his boat capsized along a rocky shore after a storm.

The police wouldn't give a death certificate until they could find his body and confirm he hadn't simply gone missing. They dragged on and on. Weeks went by and still no one would officially sign a certificate of death. Finally, 2 months into their one week vacation Lashonda said "to hell with the police" and went to a private migration factory in Mexico. Since his boat was found 2 days after his last backup, and she hadn't heard from him in almost 2 months, (and she was paying in cash), they were comfortable enough that he had been lost at sea and that they weren't making an android.

The new Craig was an exact copy of the old Craig. His DNA was used to grow a biological copy of his entire body in a laboratory. It took just a couple of weeks to grow and artificially decay it to the correct age. Then his backup was imprinted and he woke up anew.

Lashonda then told him how he had disappeared and the trouble she had had getting him migrated. Even if Lashonda and Craig had had good enough insurance they wouldn't have covered it without a proof of death. This had cost her her entire life savings.

Although his past self was about to decide he needed to run off for some time alone, this Craig saw the devastation that his decision had caused Lashonda and wanted nothing more than to be there for her, with her, always. So he thanked her, and something grew between them that had not been there before.

When they returned to the US, Craig used his same passport, he was the same Craig after all. The border patrol did note that he had been migrated while abroad. This sort of thing was tracked and a small inconspicuous dot tattoo made for each migration under your hairline behind your ear. The private migrator had bribed the police for a death certificate and filled out all the appropriate documentation so Craig was a completely legal and acceptable migration, migrated for a death that occurred less than three days after the last backup.

But their neighbors were not so sure. They had heard of the capsizing and knew the vacation had been extended by two months. At first it was small things: being left out of after work events, being disciplined for silly things other employees could do without consequence. Then performance review time came. What were once stellar performance reviews became middling and "needs improvement," yet he knew his performance hadn't changed.

People he thought were his friends no longer wanted to meet. They were busy or flat out ignored his calls. He knew it was because they thought he was not the same Craig they had known, that he was some sort of less than human copy. If this were the only motivation he could forgive them, but he also knew it went deeper, more sinister. His former friends felt that somehow his existence without a soul (as they believed) threatened their existence with a soul. Craig didn't get this, he couldn't forgive it. He was better off without those "friends."

It got worse. Walking around town, people would drive slowly by him taunting and yelling obscenities. "Android" was a common one. "Souleater" was too, though that didn't make much sense to him.

And then they began vandalizing his home.

First a large black "A" had been painted on their white door.

When Craig had seen it he had closed the door and sighed. "I'm calling the police."

"They're not going to do anything." Lashonda lamented.

"I know, but I don't know what else to do. This has to stop."

The "A" stood for Android. A soulless copy of a human. Androids were migrations that happened even though a person died too many days after their last backup. The prevailing belief was, and the law agreed, that no migration should be done in a case where a person died more than three days after their last backup. If that were to occur, the person's soul would have grown enough since the last backup, that the "migration" (migrated person) would not be the same as the person that died. Therefore, the migration would not have the soul of the person that died and it would not be a rebirth, but a copy, a clone, a soulless android, and a travesty against humanity. Or so some people believed.

Some scholars believed the mind changed too much during sleep, so as long as the person hadn't slept it was OK. But that was simply too short a time to catch enough of TerraCorps’ expected customers. So the law was lobbied, and the law was set, and the great machine of compromise between humanity and economy that is our political system cranked away.

Migrations made of people that were still alive, or had been backed up more than three days before they died, were considered androids. Androids were very, very illegal, and if the law could prove that Craig was an android, he'd be jailed and likely sentenced to death.

Lashonda knew this when she got Craig migrated from his last backup, but the risk was worth it compared to the alternative: her kids growing up without a father.

Because he was legally migrated, no one had physically harmed him, yet. He was protected under the law just like everyone else. But he'd heard of illegal migrations being dragged from their homes and lynched, hung from trees while their families watched helpless from behind an angry mob. He worried that it would come to that some day. In fact it often haunted his dreams.

Although he was happy to be alive, and happy to have his family, he couldn't be certain he wasn't an android. But he had long ago decided it didn't matter. To him, he was Craig, to Lashonda, he was husband, to his baby Jasmine he was "dada." That was all that mattered.

"Hi, I'd like to report vandalism, a hate crime." Craig provided his address to the police.

The police came by and took photographs, their insurance paid to repaint the door, but the harassment didn't stop.

Craig noticed one day that every time he was about to leave the house he would mentally brace himself for the assault that was sure to come. A look here, a glare there, a yell or spit. It was emotionally draining and physically exhausting to always be on guard, always in fear of an irrational force he could not control.

But throughout it, Lashonda was there for him, loving him unconditionally, supporting him however he needed. She was his rock and he was hers. They maintained that connection in a way that they hadn't quite been able to before the migration.

As their baby girl became a toddler and was preparing for preschool, they started looking to get away from the harassment. They started applying to jobs in other towns, the farther away the better. If it had just been them they might have stayed and taken it. It was scary to move somewhere new, where would they go? But they agreed that their daughter shouldn't have to deal with it in school so they were firm in their desire to have a fresh start somewhere where they could just be known as Lashonda, Craig and Jasmine, three regular soul-carrying human beings.

Mr. Abernathy rose again: "I call next to the stand Mr. Joe Rock, a renowned member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

Mr. Rock came to the stand. He was an average looking man in an average looking dark suit with an average tie and an average haircut. Nothing about Mr. Rock was designed to stand out or draw attention. He was, strictly business.

"Mr. Rock, let the record show that you have been a practicing member of the Federal Bureau of Investigation for how many years?"

"Fifteen."

"And in that time, how many years have you been working on the…" Mr. Abernathy looked at the judge as he considered his words carefully, then he turned back to Mr. Rock, "… problem of illegals coming up from Mexico?"

"Fifteen."

"Okay. And can you share with the court how that flow of illegals has changed recently?"

"Starting about ten years ago, we started to notice an uptick in the reporting of potentially illegal copies across almost every state. It quickly became clear that these reports matched border crossing records and that the suspects were arriving from Mexico."

"And why would they be arriving from Mexico?"

"Mexico has for many decades been a place where American companies perform manufacturing. Labor is cheaper, land is cheaper, the infrastructure can be good if you pay for it, and it is close to United States markets. American cars, for example, have been manufactured there since 1925."

"And now bodies."

"Yes, the first TeraCorps Factory was built there."

"And TeraCorps, for those who don't know, was the first factory to manufacture human bodies and imprint them with the memories of their deceased sponsors. Is that right Mr. Rock?"

"Yes."

Mr. Abernathy paused, visually checking in with the judge who appeared ready for the point in this line of questioning. Mr. Abernathy continued, "There are rules in the United States that prevent companies from copying humans. Why is that?"

"Law S. 5002 states that it is a federal crime to attempt to duplicate a living being's soul. I'm no lawyer, so I can't speak to why this law was passed. But if you were alive at the time you no doubt heard about it on the news."

"And what we heard on the news, if I may ask, was that it is an affront to any and all religions to play God. Is that right?"

"That was the main talking point, yes." Mr. Rock shifted in his chair.

"So we in the United States refuse to play God, but Mexico has no law against copying humans?"

"Mexico has no such law."

"But wouldn't an American company, like TeraCorps, be under American law, even if they operated in Mexico?"

"Well, yes and no. I have no jurisdiction in Mexico, and the work is done by a Mexican subsidiary. So we can't check up on them or do anything about it if they were in fact acting against our laws."

"But you'd like to do something about it."

"It's my job to enforce the law."

Mr. Abernathy turned and faced the audience without turning completely away from the judge. "So you see, the FBI knows that making human copies is illegal, they know it is done in the factories of American companies in Mexico, factories like the one were the impostor over there," he gestured to Craig, "was illegally made. Is that correct Mr. Rock?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. No further questions, your honor."

Ms. Einrist stood and walked over to face Mr. Rock in the witness stand. "Mr. Rock, can you tell me how many Americans are copied each month in Mexico?"

"It is somewhere in the region of thirteen thousand."

"Thirteen thousand Americans are copied each month in factories in Mexico. Did I hear that right?"

"Yes."

"Are these thirteen thousand copies, to the best of your knowledge, legally valid?"

"The majority are, yes."

"When you say majority, do you mean fifty percent? Seventy percent?"

"Ninety-nine point eight or ninety-nine point nine percent."

"Ninety-nine point nine percent?! How certain are you about that number?"

"Well of the thirteen thousand copies each month, we are only informed of one or two potential illegal copies, but we assume that there could be ten times that many."

"So, are you saying that of the thirteen thousand human copies created, with their memories implanted, and the bodies shipped back up to the United States, often delivered directly to the door of the formerly deceased, of these thirteen thousand, maybe ten, maybe twenty could be illegal copies where the copied person was still alive. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And of those ten, maybe twenty, how many do you know, for a fact, were indeed illegal."

"One or two."

"And in those one or two cases, have you or the FBI, or anyone for that matter, to the best of your knowledge as an expert in this field, have they ever been prosecuted for illegal copying?"

"No."

"Has anyone been successfully prosecuted for illegal copying?"

"No."

"And why, in your expert opinion, is that, Mr. Rock?"

"Well, I am no lawyer, but from what I understand, the burden of proof is to determine that the person initiating the copy must have intended to duplicate a soul to be found guilty."

"And that means that the prosecution, or in this case, my esteemed colleague," she gestured to Mr. Abernathy, "would need to prove both that my client Lashonda knew that Mr. Abernathy's client was still alive, and that she intended to copy his soul. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And has Mr. Abernathy, or the FBI, or anyone else, for that matter, presented you with any evidence that Lashonda intended to copy a soul?"

"No."

"Is there even a definition of 'soul' in law?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"So how would one prove something was intentionally copied when there is no agreement as to what it is that must be copied for an illegal action to have taken place?"

"As I said, no one has been prosecuted for this so far."

Ms. Einrist turned to the judge. "My esteemed colleague, with Mr. Rock's expert help, has clearly established that it is illegal to copy a human being with a soul. He has not, as a matter of fact, corroborated by this expert witness here, shown any evidence that such a crime has been committed. Furthermore, that is not really what we are in court here today to determine. We are here to determine if this beautiful child," she gestured to where Jasmine sat behind Craig, "should be taken away from her loving family and placed in the care of a man who abandoned her unborn self and her mother without a single word of goodbye seven years ago."

Ms. Einrist paused for obvious dramatic effect. "Your honor, this witness is entirely irrelevant to this case as the question of the occurrence of an illegal backup is not on trial here given the total lack of evidence to that point, despite Mr. Abernathy's attempt to imply its relevance. I move that we strike the matter of Mr. Henderson's legality from this court case."

The judge asked, "Mr. Abernathy, what was your intent with this witness?"

"Mr. Rock is an established member of the law enforcement community and has pointed out clearly that it is not implausible that illegal activity has occurred in the creation of my esteemed colleagues client."

"Thank you." The judge said. "I see that no evidence is provided as to whether any illegal activity occurred in the creation of the defendant. I'll take that into consideration along with the defendant's long track record of good parenting and community service. I'll let the testimony stand but point out for the record that this witness does not provide any evidence that anything illegal has occurred in this specific case. Furthermore, as to Ms. Einrist's motion. I must ask if Mr. Abernathy will concur. Do you concur, Mr. Abernathy?"

"No. Your honor." Mr Abernathy stood as he said this.

"As I suspected." The judge turned to Mr. Rock. "Thank you Mr. Rock, you may leave now."

Seven years and two and a half months prior to long lost Craig's return

Craig had woken up this particular morning with a deep feeling of unease. It was not the first morning he had woken up this way. It was a feeling that had been growing for some time. Ebbing and flowing, sometimes gone, and sometimes back. But today, it was back with a vengeance. He shot out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, his hands on the counter, looking deep into his own soul.

"What is it that you need?" He asked himself without speaking a word. He looked and looked, and the deeper he looked, the more he realized a painful and stark truth. He didn't know what he needed, but he knew what he had to do.

This feeling came from here. From this hotel room, from Lashonda. He couldn't see why, and he didn't know what to do about it, but he knew he had to put some space between her and himself so he could figure it out.

He unlocked the door and started packing a day bag.

Lashonda, disturbed by the noise of crinkling plastic, rolled slowly over, hindered by her enlarged stomach. To get a better view she propped herself up on one arm. "What are you doing?"

"Packing a bag." Craig was short, he didn't want to argue about it.

"What do you mean?"

Craig stopped. Looked at her. He fought the urge to drop his bag and climb back into bed with her and hold her like he had almost every morning for the past three years.

"I need to spend the day by myself."

"Is everything OK?"

"No, I mean, yes, don't worry. But, no. I just need to figure some things out."

"By yourself?"

"Yes."

Lashonda sat up in the bed, leaning against the headboard. Her shoulders hunched forward, her arms pushing down into the mattress to hold herself up. She was confused and worried and Craig could see it in her every detail.

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean. I'm seven months pregnant. What do you mean you need a day alone to figure things out. We've figured things out. It's you and me and Jasmine."

"You don't ever listen do you. I just need a little space." Craig began furiously packing his bag again, shoving clothes and sunscreen and zipping it up as he walked over to the door.

Lashonda got out of bed and looked for some clothes to throw over her naked body but before she could find them Craig was out the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?!"

Lashonda got some sweats and a big T-shirt on but by the time she was out the door Craig was gone.

"I have two more witnesses, your honor." Mr. Abernathy said as he stood respectfully. "The first is Dr. Graymount."

Dr. Graymount took her turn on the witness stand. She was an athletic, shorter woman with long thin dirty blond hair. If it weren't for the "Dr." in her title, she would be much more likely to be mistaken for a professional athlete than a scientist.

Mr. Abernathy walked up to the witness stand. "Please state your name and occupation for the record."

"I am Kaitlin Graymount, a neuroscientist from Colorado State University."

"And how long have you been in that line of work?"

"Ten years."

"And you are a researcher, is that correct?"

"Yes, I study the long term effects of memory uplink."

"Wonderful. I hope then, that you can clarify some things that have been unclear to me." Mr. Abernathy's tone gave no hint that he already knew what Dr. Graymount's answers would be to his questions. "When a person's memory is 'uplinked' as you say, to a new body, are they in-fact, the same person?"

"This is a place where the law and general scientific consensus differ."

Mr. Abernathy interrupted. "Please, if you will, from a scientist's perspective."

"Although the receptacle corpus is an exact copy, the same DNA, cell for cell regrown, it is not identical. Degradation in the DNA over time means that there are small differences from the last actual state of a deceased and the state of their DNA at their most recent DNA capture. When the body is fresh…"

"Which in this case it wasn't. There was no body available."

"Right, in this case, I believe, DNA samples from the subject's toiletries, hairbrush, toothbrush, etc. were used. These were fairly recent, so the DNA likely did not degrade significantly. However, my point is, that even if the DNA is fresh, the cell regrowth has some level of stochasticity. Even identical twins have different fingerprints, for example. So it stands to reason, and we find this in our studies, that a part of the body as complex as the brain, regrows slightly differently. Bulk properties are the same, as would be expected, but the exact wiring is never identical."

"And what effect does this have on the person in question?"

"Well, when memories are imprinted, it comes with its own enforced wiring, but there is some slight, barely detectable variability. We have run many tests and the personality is always the same. It is truly as it says in the ads, 'You will be your old self again.' Personality test results are within measurement error. Friends and family can tell no difference. But as I alluded to before, scientific consensus is that it is a different person. How could it not be, when there are two. One is different, separate from another. They cannot, then, both be the same."

"But how can that be when the DNA doesn't change, right? There is only one Craig Henderson, even if we see two before us here in court. Correct? From the point of view of biology, if you please."

"I am not a biologist, Mr. Abernathy, you might do better asking that question of one. But I do know enough to answer that question from a biologist's point of view. I can tell you that even though DNA stays the same it can degrade over time. But even if it were identical, the RNA, the machines that turn that DNA blueprint into action, can change drastically, deciding to express some parts of the DNA and stop expressing other parts. The human body is an incredibly complex machine. The likelihood of two identical copies, even if they have the same DNA is zero for the number of people that have ever lived or ever will live in the expected length of the universe."

"Do I understand you correctly that you are saying that scientific consensus is that the copy is a different human being from the original?"

"Yes, they have to be. I mean we can see two here. They are clearly no more the same than identical twins. Two separate people."

"So it is plausible then," Mr. Abernathy said, turning again to the crowd, "that my client, and my client alone, be treated as the actual biological father, as there can be only one father in a natural fertilization?"

"Your client is the actual biological father. It was his sperm that was used at conception." Ms. Greymount said, matter of factly.

"Aha! So you believe he should have full custody!?" Mr. Abernathy exclaimed.

"I can only speak to the biological separation of the two. One is the biological father, the other is, like a twin, of that biological father." Ms Greymount hurried to clarify.

He turned to the judge. "I make the case, your honor, that, as the only biological father of the child in this room, and indeed in the world, that he be given full custody of his daughter. I request full and not partial custody because any less would leave his daughter in the dangerous care of a liar and impostor who has spent years sabotaging and infiltrating my client's life. This android should not be allowed around children."

"Mr. Abernathy!" The judge banged her gavel as the crowd erupted into a chaos of shouting. "Order, order!" She yelled as she banged her gavel for silence.

The crowd calmed to silence and the judge said, "I warned you about the use of that word in my courtroom. Neither that word, nor your flagrant attempts at character assassination will be tolerated in my courtroom. The defendant is due the respect of any other citizen until proven otherwise. Clerk, please strike Mr. Abernathy's use of that derogatory slang from the record."

"Ms. Einrist, would you like to cross examine the witness?"

"Yes, thank you, your honor." Ms. Einrist stood and walked over to the neuroscientist. "Ms. Greymount, do you know what gives a person their soul?"

"I do not, no. There is no clear definition of 'soul' in neuroscience."

"So then, if I were to ask you if you believe that a copy… for we see that there is a copy in this room, these two gentlemen look remarkably similar… Do you believe that a copy has a soul?"

"Again, I don't know what a soul is. I can guess, in my capacity as a human, rather than as a scientist, but I do not think that is why I am here."

"OK. Let me try another way of asking the question. Do you, as a scientist, believe that both of these gentlemen are human beings?"

"Yes."

"Is there any doubt in your mind?"

"None, whatsoever."

"Thank you. No further questions."

"I believe you have one more witness Mr. Abernathy?" The judge said while looking at the paper she was holding in front of her, presumably his presubmitted schedule of witnesses.

"Yes, I will call to the stand my client, Mr. Henderson."

Long lost Craig stood from behind the table he had been sharing with his lawyer and walked to the witness box.

"Mr. Henderson," Mr. Abernathy began. "Can you tell the court please, why we are all here."

"I would like custody of my child."

"And what claim do you feel you have to that child?"

"Look, I know I have not been there for most, well, all, of her childhood so far. But I am here because I care deeply about her upbringing and success in later life and I want to make sure she is raised right. I am her father and will be there for the rest of her life to take care of her if the court will let me."

"How would you take care of your daughter, Mr Henderson?"

"I have plenty of money, I can provide for her. Food, clothes, housing."

"And you are currently looking for a home in town, correct?"

"Yes, I want to make sure she can keep going to her school. I am working with a realtor to find a good home for us."

"Why should we believe that you know how to take care of a seven year old girl?"

"I spent four years as a missionary in Bolivia where I ran a daycare for single parents so that they could work. I know how to handle children."

"And I'm sure it goes without saying that, should you receive custody, you would put your Jasmine's needs before your own in all cases?"

"Yes, without a doubt."

"Thank you Mr. Henderson. Your honor, I cede my witness to my honorable colleague."

Ms. Einrist took Mr. Abernathy's spot on the floor and faced the witness.

"What did you mean when you were speaking earlier about 'raising Jasmine right?'" Ms. Einrist said.

"I mean that I will provide for her an honest, natural upbringing."

"And what do you mean by honest and natural?"

"Look, you know it and I know it. Alright? I don't need to say it."

Ms. Einrist looked at the judge as if asking for help.

"Mr. Henderson." The judge said to him, "If you are saying something, then I'm afraid you must go ahead and say it. We cannot use a guess of ours as to your meaning as evidence in a courtroom."

"I mean that…" He pointed at his copy, the Craig with the family, "is not a real human being. It is an illegal copy. And it has no soul. How can it raise a child well? It can't. That's how. I don't want my daughter corrupted by its lies and deceit. Stealing a man's family, it's just not right."

Ms. Einrist responded with the cool calmness of an experienced trial lawyer. "He didn't steal your family, you abandoned your family and he stepped up to fill in the gap. Where did you go for seven years? What was so important that you left Lashonda and Jasmine all alone for that long?"

"Our relationship was not good. I was not good. We were fighting a lot and I just didn't feel like myself. I needed to get away for a bit to clear my head."

"Seven years is hardly 'a bit.'"

"I was running, OK? Running from Lashonda, running from myself, from my responsibilities. And while I was running, I stumbled across this place where I could help people. I was needed there and I made an impact in people's lives. And after a while I felt whole. I felt like I didn't need to run anymore. And then I realized that even though these people were incredible, and absolutely deserving of my help, there was someone back home that I was supposed to be helping, serving. My place was with Jasmine."

"And that's why you came back?"

"Yes."

"When did you have this realization?"

"About six months ago."

"It took you six and a half years to realize you should support your wife and child?"

Mr. Henderson sat silently for a while, obvious grief and anguish on his face. "Yes. Far too long."

"Why didn't you send any money to Lashonda and Jasmine while you were away?"

"I don't know. I was afraid of contacting her. Afraid she would reject me. Which is exactly what happened when I came back."

"So you had money, but decided not to send any to support your daughter."

"Yes."

"And where did you get your ample wealth? Enough to take good care of Jasmine and buy a house here? Certainly not as a missionary?"

"I entered into some very profitable agriculture deals when I was down there."

"Drug money?"

"I said no such thing. Perfectly legal Bolivian agriculture."

"I know of only a few highly profitable agriculture businesses in Bolivia and they are all illegal. Are you sure it is not profits from trade in cocaine?"

Mr. Abernathy rose quickly, "Objection! My client has already answered the question."

"Indeed." The judge said. "Ms. Einrist, please continue to the next topic."

"Yes, your honor. That was my last one. I have no more questions."

"You may return to your seat Mr. Henderson." The judge said and long lost Craig returned to his seat at the table he and his lawyer had been sharing.

And that was your last witness, Mr. Abernathy, correct?"

"Yes, your honor." Mr. Abernathy took his seat next to his client.

"Then it is your turn Ms. Einrist. Who do you call first?"

Ms. Einrist stood. "Mr. Williams is an upstanding member of the local community and a father of a young member of the same Brownies Girl Scout Troop as my client."

Mr. Williams took the witness stand as Ms. Einrist approached. "Would you say that you are good friends with my client Mr. Williams?"

"Yes, I would say so."

"And why, exactly, would you classify your relationship as such?"

"We both have a daughter in the same Brownie Troop. His Jasmine and my Rebecca are good friends and we have spent a lot of time together. We have been troop volunteers at camping trips, spending many days together feeding and caring for the girls. We have also had each other's daughters over at our houses."

"So you've spent quite a bit of time together."

"Yes."

"And in that time, what do you feel you have gotten to know about my client?"

"Craig is a very thoughtful and caring father. He was always there for Jasmine, no matter what she needed during camping, whether it was a band-aid for a scraped knee, guidance, or anything. And aside from being a great father, he is also a good person, helping prepare the pancake breakfast in the morning, making sure every girl was fed and always taking up more than his fair share of the work. I have really appreciated spending time with Craig."

"What is it about Craig that you appreciate?"

"He is caring, thoughtful, and kind. Just the kind of person you want to be spending time with your children. He sets a good example for them."

"Thank you. No further questions."

"Mr. Abernathy?" The judge asked.

"Mr. Williams." Mr. Abernathy said, standing at his desk. "How would you feel if someone prevented you from seeing your Rebecca?"

"Oh, I would do anything to get her back. Anything at all."

"And what if someone threatened her safety?"

"Objection." Ms. Einrist stood as she said this.

"I also am wondering what this line of questioning has to do with the witness's input on this case." The judge said. "Mr. Abernathy. I hope this is going to become relevant soon."

"It will, your honor, my point is that Mr. Williams is a parent and can support my client's petition for the safety and custody of their child."

"I think Mr. Williams, despite his clear qualifications as a parent, is not qualified to speak on the legality of your client's petition. Please end this line of questioning, Mr. Abernathy. It is clear you are fishing for an emotional response without any legal substance.

"I apologize, your honor." He slightly bowed his head. "No further questions."

Ms. Einrist called up her second witness and approached them in the witness stand. "Could you please state your name and occupation for the court."

"My name is Ekkort Krinisthian and I am a behavioral psychologist working for child protective services."

"And what are your duties in your capacity as a behavioral psychologist for child protective services?" Ms. Einrist said, casually repeating the pertinent details for reinforcement to the listeners.

"I am trained in how the minds of children work, how they experience and respond to trauma, and how those events can affect them long term. I have spent the last eighteen years applying that knowledge to evaluate potentially troublesome households to make sure that children do not experience trauma, recommending that children be removed from households if that is in their best interest."

"Thank you Dr. Krinisthian." Ms. Einrist walked a bit away from her witness, back to the front of her own table, then turned around and addressed the doctor. "What makes a good father?"

"I'm not sure I can answer that directly. It's not my job to determine if someone is a good parent, only if they are a bad parent."

"OK, thank you. Then what makes a bad father?" Ms. Einrest was unperturbed.

"There is a wide range of unsafe parents from bad, to terrible, to … inhumane. I think we can all imagine or guess at the lower end so I will start at the edge of bad. An unsafe parent fails to provide a child with a safe, nurturing environment. An unsafe parent might keep their child alive, but they fail to enable their child to live."

"And where would you say that my client falls on that spectrum," she motioned to Craig.

"I have evaluated Mr. Henderson, and found him to be completely competent as a parent. Jasmine is growing up in a loving and safe household and I have no reason to question whether she should stay in that household."

"Thank you Dr. Krinisthian. To be clear, you are talking about the Mr. Henderson currently living with Jasmine and Lashonda Henderson."

"Yes."

"And did you make any kind of assessment of the other Mr. Henderson?" Ms Einrist asked.

"Yes."

"And what did you find?"

"The other Mr. Henderson does not meet some of the key criteria that we look for when assessing households. The first and, quite significant criteria is stability of the household. He does not currently have a home here in the country; he is currently living out of a hotel room. It was unclear from talking to him what his plans would be to provide the child with stability as he seems to primarily live in a remote location in Bolivia. Second, he abandoned the child when she was not even born. This sets a dangerous precedent. I am happy to see he has changed his mind and wants to be in Jasmine's life, but we need to be sure of his commitment to putting her needs above his own going forward."

"OK, and you also spoke to Jasmine."

"Yes."

"Can you tell the court what you learned please."

"Jasmine is a sweet and well adjusted young girl. I see no issues with her mental state. In fact, she is very happy with the Mr. Henderson she lives with and has no memory of the Mr. Henderson that left, as he left before she was born."

"Would you recommend that the plaintiff Mr. Henderson be given sole custody of Jasmine as he is requesting?"

"No."

"What about split custody, one half to the plaintiff and the other half to Mrs. Henderson?"

"I would not recommend that at this time, no."

"Thank you, no further questions." Ms. Einrist returned to her seat.

"OK, Mr. Abernathy, it is your turn." The judge said, gently motioning her left hand towards the witness stand.

Mr. Abernathy walked over to the witness stand. "Dr. Krinisthian, you made some stark claims against my client in your testimony to my esteemed colleague just now. You don't mean to say that you can't foresee a way for my client to get custody, do you?"

"No, I don't say that. If your client were to obtain a stable household, and show a commitment to placing his child's needs over his own, I don't see any reason why he could not also get partial custody of his daughter."

"Thank you for clarifying that Dr. Krinisthian. I have another, perhaps stranger question. If you had a case where monozygotic twins, that's twins with the exact same DNA, where one of them had a child, would that child be able to tell the difference between them?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that. If you are asking whether both twins could interchangeably provide the same level of care for a child, then yes, I suppose it's possible, but no more than any other pair of people, twin or no."

"We're talking specifically about monozygotic twins here, if you please."

"You can't just interchange people, even if they look the same, the child will have a history with one or the other of the twins. I would suspect that in conversation it will become clear which is which."

"Do you think that Jasmine could tell the difference between the two Mr. Hendersons?"

"Yes, of course."

"But they are the same person!" Mr. Abernathy gestured quickly out and up with both hands in exclamation.

"They are, and they aren't. A biologist might tell you they are the same. But I am a psychologist. And I say that they have been living and breathing separately on this Earth for seven years. Any moment in that time could have had an enormous impact on their psyche. A car accident, birth of a child, or having your partner sacrifice their life savings to bring you to life." Ekkort looked momentarily at Lashonda and smiled. "Any number of things could have profoundly affected them. Even if they'd both had an incredibly boring seven years, that aggregate sum of seven years means they likely have some significant differences in their psychology. The self is always changing."

"No further questions, your honor."

"Thank you Mr. Abernathy." The judge shuffled her papers around. Now that we've heard the witnesses from both sides, it is time for closing remarks. Mr. Abernathy is for the Plaintiff, so we will hear his statement first." The judge looked over her glasses at Mr. Abernathy. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, your Honor. We brought before you a case in which my client, the biological father of Ms. Jasmine Henderson humbly requests custody of his child. In consultation with my client during the course of these proceedings, we have reduced the request from full custody to half custody."

Mr. Abernathy turned to look at his client. His client, long lost Mr. Henderson, nodded.

Mr. Abernathy proceeded. "I brought to the stand Mr. Gunther of the First Ecclesiastical Adventist Church on Morrison Avenue who cautioned us about the use of modern technology to play God. He suggested, and we are not advocating for this, that Ms. Jasmine is taken out of the home of the defendant because he is an affront to the divinity of God.

We heard from Mr. Alexander, Jasmine's neighbor, who felt that the home had some less than decent happenings.

We heard from Mr. Rock of the FBI that it is not implausible that illegal activity has occurred in the creation of my esteemed colleague's client, the defendant in this case.

We heard from Ms. Greymount, a respected neuroscientist that works on memory implantation, the process used on the defendant, and told us that the copy is not, in fact the same as the original, even if they are indistinguishable to friends and family, and therefore there is only one biological father, my client, strengthening my client's claim to partial custody of his child.

We heard from my client himself. He told us that he is fully committed to taking care of his own daughter and is physically and emotionally equipped to do so.

My esteemed colleague, Ms. Einrist, brought up Mr. Williams, a witness whom I found to not be relevant to the case.

My esteemed colleague also brought Dr. Krinisthian to the stand who supported the case for shared custody as each father can bring a different set of experiences to the child.

In summary, we have shown that my client is ready, willing and qualified to raise his child in shared custody with the defendant and Ms. Lashonda Henderson.

My client would like to formally rescind his accusation of the legality of my esteemed colleague's client and acknowledge that both Lashonda and her Mr. Henderson are valid and fit parents."

An involuntary gasp emanated from the crowd and was quickly followed by murmurs of quiet discussion.

"Order please." The judge banged her gavel. The room quieted again.

"That closes our arguments, your Honor." Mr Abernathy bowed his head in respect to the judge.

"Thank you Mr. Abernathy." The judge said followed by a slightly outstretched hand that motioned to Ms. Einrist. "Ms. Einrist?"

Ms. Einrist stood at her table. "I am here to defend my client's right to continue to raise the child that he has raised from birth as his own. He, along with Ms. Lashonda Henderson are a loving family that have raised Ms. Jasmine Henderson and her sister.

We heard from Mr. Gunther, a no-doubt well respected member of First Ecclesiastical Adventist Church on Morrison Avenue but sorely misguided in his interpretation of Christianity. Whatever his reading of theology, my client sits here before me, a human being like anyone else in this courtroom, deserving of the same respect and defense from the rule of law.

We heard from Mr. Alexander, whose testimony served only to show that his testimony was not relevant to this case as it was no more than hearsay.

We heard from Mr. Rock, a member of the FBI who made it clear that there was no way to know if indeed any illegal activity had occurred in the creation of my client in a TerraCorps factory in Mexico. The law in the United States that could potentially apply is unenforceable due to its requirement to define a 'soul' as having been intentionally copied, where no definition of 'soul' exists in the law or anywhere else legally relevant.

We heard from Ms. Greymount that she believes from an expert scientific point of view that my client is indeed a human, like anyone else in this courtroom, and as such, as I mentioned earlier, due to be afforded the same rights as all of us. I reject Mr. Abernathy's interpretation of Ms. Greymount's testimony. Mr. Abernathy knows as well as your honor, that there is no requirement in law that children only be taken care of by their biological parents, especially when that parent abandons the child before birth and returns only seven years later. There is adequate precedence for family members, foster parents, and as in this case, spouses of biological parents, to raise children.

We heard from Mr. Henderson who, my client appreciates, has changed his tone and position, through his lawyer, after his testimony.

We heard from Mr. Williams, an upstanding member of this community, and father of one of Jasmine's friends who spoke to my client's character and capacity as a father.

And finally, we heard from Dr. Krinisthian who believes that Mr. Henderson is currently not in a stable enough position to gain custody of Jasmine.

In summary, I believe we have made the case today that at a bare minimum, my client and his wife Lashonda should maintain custody of Jasmine as they provide a safe and loving home for her. If it is in the court's determination that it is the best interest of the child to share some custody with the Plaintiff, my client does not oppose partial custody so long as Jasmine's primary residence, and majority of her time, is still with my client and his wife so as to minimize the disruption to Jasmine's life." Ms. Einrist took a seat.

"Thank you Ms. Einrist. That draws today's proceedings to a close. I propose we wrap up for the day and I will deliver my verdict as soon as I have arrived at it. I will decide on two separate things: One, whether the defendant is an illegal migration and must therefore be reappropriated. Two, whether the Plaintiff should receive any custody of Jasmine, and if so, how much."

The judge deliberated, carefully, for three weeks before providing a written judgment to the lawyers who in turn provided it to their clients. That judgment was their best interpretation of the law and as such, a statement on the accepted norms of the time:

“Parents are a burden each of us are saddled with, and a blessing each of us are granted. Few of us are fortunate enough to be blessed with as many as Jasmine has.
We are the sum total of the experiences which we choose to carry with us, nothing more and nothing less. Sometimes it does not feel like a choice, but for Jasmine I offer explicit choice. In terms of custody, 25% custody is given to the biological father, 25% to the newer father, and 50% to the mother. In terms of time spent, I leave that up to Jasmine.”

Two weeks after the judgment

Long lost Craig bounced in his seat as he drove along the long, flat, rough dirt road to his home in Bolivia. He saw the wide dusty expanse of high desert in every direction framed by distant mountain peaks. Yet, his mind did not feel as expansive and peaceful. It felt small and busy.

He was replaying his whole trip to the United States, from his first interaction with Lashonda, Jasmine and that other Craig, to the call from his lawyer with the news.

What had he hoped for? What had he expected? To be welcomed with open arms after disappearing so long ago? He’d never felt at home there. Not when he lived there, and not now. But he didn’t hold any grudges.

Craig recognized that he had used that other Craig’s life as a bargaining chip. And that it was a real life, as real as his, or Jasmine’s. He felt sadness about the pain he caused by threatening reappropriation. Perhaps it had been foolish to do so.

But Lashonda’s Craig’s life was going to change the moment another Craig showed up in town, there was no way to avoid it. Craig could have eased the blow better, but he couldn’t have erased it.

He looked over at the seat next to him. Jasmine sat, eyes glued to the window. Soaking it all in. His little girl, very different from his last view of her — a beating heart on an ultrasound. No regrets.

And now she was here. This place where he’d found his home. Out here where he belonged. He felt it deep in his soul. Out where, despite the many miles to the next building, he felt supported, loved and understood.

This place had given him so much. He wanted to share some of that with Jasmine. He wanted her to feed llamas out of her hands, to play in the hot springs, to see the stars spread out across the sky like a quilt of diamond eyes twinkling thousands of untold secrets each night.

“Thank you for telling your mom that you wanted to come visit me.” He kept one eye on the empty road before him and the other on Jasmine to gauge her response.

“I wanted to see where you came from.” She said, matter of factly, without taking her eyes off of the scenery.

“Then, let’s show you.”

He turned into the driveway of his ranch, a long road with barbed wire fencing on either side. At the end of the road stood a ranch house. He absentmindedly checked on his fencing as he had the habit of doing every time he drove down this road. It all looked good. His step-son had been keeping things up well in his absence.

He pulled in front of the house, turned off the truck and opened the door. As the cloud of dust that had been following in the truck’s wake settled, he heard footsteps pattering from around the side of the house.

“Pappa!!”

“Niña!” His beautiful little girl ran up to him and threw herself in his arms.

He hugged her long and tight. It had been far too long. “I want you to meet your sister.” He said in quechua as he set her down.

He turned around and Jasmine had opened the door and hopped down onto the dusty land. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched. She was going to do well here.

The local little girl ran past the outstretched hand and embraced Jasmine with a wholehearted hug and a barrage of kisses on both cheeks.

“Wel-come!” She said in broken English. “I am Apichu.”

“You’ve been practicing!” Craig said to his daughter in Quechua.

“Of course!” She replied in English. “Come on,” she said to Jasmine, grabbing her hand and starting to tug her off to the side of the house. “Want to see the llamas?!”

Jasmine nodded as Apichu pulled her along around the side of the house and off to explore the ranch.

Craig turned to his wife who had been watching from the doorway to their home. He smiled. Unable to think of the words to capture his immense pleasure at that moment.

She read him like an open book and walked over to him. “You did it.” She said in quechua. “This will be good for her.”

“I hope so.” He replied, knowing in his heart that something that felt this right had to be so.

What do you think?

Is Lashonda’s Craig really human?
Was long lost Craig a villain?
What should the custody arrangement be?

Astral Fibers

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