Ghostwriting by Eric Brown

Well, I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself heard. I was talking to you all the time, but you just couldn’t hear me. Now, this thing can hear me... You said that you were frightened to tell mum. Well, I think you should. You can’t keep it all to yourself. Show her the words, prove to her that it’s me, okay? Love you both, Jane.
    Rhodes sat and stared at the screen, absorbing what she had said.
    Prove to her, he thought. That was it. He’d tell Anne, then he’d prove to her that their daughter was not dead...
    Paranoid at the thought of losing Jane’s words, and not trusting his PC’s back-up, he copied the file to disc, whispered goodbye to his daughter and made his way downstairs.

    ~

    Anne was in the conservatory, leafing through a gardening magazine. She looked up when he entered. “You’re early. I thought you’d be working longer.” She stopped, then said, “Steven, is everything... what is it?”
    He sat down on the wicker chair opposite her. He felt sick with apprehension. “I’ve always been honest with you, haven’t I?”
    Something very like fear clouded her features. “What is it, Steven?”
    “Look... something’s happened. Something strange. You won’t believe me. But I have to tell you.”
    “Steven, for God’s sake, what’s wrong?”  
    He stared into her eyes. “Jane isn’t dead.”
    Her features twisted. He thought she was about to cry out. “What?” she whispered, shaking her head.
    “She... I now it sounds crazy... but Jane has been talking to me—”
    “Oh, Christ—”
    “ – through the voice recognition program. I left it running when I collected you the other day. There was something on the screen when I came back. From Jane. I’ve saved her messages. I want you to see...”
    He stood and reached out for her hand.
    She just stared up at him. “Steven...?”
    “I’m sorry. I know what you’re thinking. But I had to tell you.”
    He took her hand and led her from the conservatory, through the house and up the stairs to his study.
    There were no new words on the screen. He scrolled back to the beginning of Jane’s message, sat Anne in his chair and gestured to the screen.
    He switched off the microphone and said, “This is what appeared the other day, when I got back.”
    Stunned, she read.
    I just wanted to say how much I love you both.
    She wept. “Steven... how could you?”
    “What? I—”
    “I don’t believe it. Jane... is... dead. Gone, Steven. This... It’s part of your novel, isn’t it? Please tell me that it’s...” She broke down and wept.
    He took her shoulders. “Anne, Anne...” He scrolled down the page, showing her more.
    She read, shaking her head, tears tracking down her cheeks.
    When she’d reached the end, Rhodes said, “And there’s a way I can prove it. I’ll leave the program running. We’ll lock the house and go out, come back in an hour or two, okay? If she’s contacted us... then that proves it.”
    Anne turned from the screen and looked at him, shaking her head.
    He went on, “I’ll ask her a question, give her something to start on.” He had a better idea. “No, you ask her something. Anything.”
    She shook her head, wordless. “I... this is insane, Steven. I’m worried. For you...”
    “Don’t be. Just say something, okay?”
    She stood suddenly and moved to the door, then turned and stared at him.
    “Anne?”
    “I... I need to think about this, Steven,” she said, and hurried from the room before he had time to reply.
    Rhodes moved to the window and stared out, his pulse pounding in his ears. Beyond the window, a chaffinch was singing in the myrtle tree. For some reason its song brought tears to his eyes, like an unbearably poignant passage of classical music.  
    He remembered taking a five year-old Jane to the aviary at the local zoo, watching her delight at the sight of the hundred multi-coloured tropical birds darting about their enclosures. He recalled her feeding ducks at the village pond.
    It seemed