[ WP ] A new kind of social network technology uses algorithms to simulate people after they 've passed away based on analysis of their lifetime 's worth of online activity . This allows some kind of interaction with ( and perhaps between ) lost loved ones . What are the implications and how is life now ?

I did n't want to end up like Mrs. Green, waiting by the computer for someone to `` log on.'' Nevertheless, every year I allowed myself one day of indulgence. Or an hour, really. The algorithm was quite accurate nowadays, and it was true that my mother had never spent more than an hour online, so it was only to be expected that she always had to go far too soon. In life and in death. 
 
 It was October, six years to the day, and my fingers itched as they hovered over the `` banned'' section of my contacts list. I hesitated longer then usual before I unblocked them. Mom's first message came instantly. 
 
 Mom: Hey, sweetie. 
 
 Just an algorithm, I reminded myself. It's not really her. But if I allowed myself this conversation, why should I not fully immerse myself in the experience? Why could I not imagine that Mom and Dad had made it to their dream retirement? 
 
 Me: Hey, Mom! Long time, no see. How's it going in California? 
 
 Mom: It's like paradise1 I just love it. 
 
 I smiled, but the lump in my throat was growing rapidly. Mom had always had trouble with exclamation marks. 
 
 Mom: Hang on, I want to invite other to our chat. Is that okay with you, honey? 
 
 I licked my lips nervously. Who could she want to invite? Did I want them intruding on my precious time? My precious time with what? An artificial intelligence masquerading as my mother? 
 
 Mom: Honey? 
 
 Me: Sure, the more the merrier. 
 
 *Mom* has invited *Dad* 
 
 Suddenly, it was too much. Too fresh. Mom I could cope with. I had accepted that. But Dad? It had only been six months. 
 
 Me: Srry gtg. 
 
 Mom:??? What does that mean? 
 
 Dad:... *typing*... 
 
 I flung the tablet across the room, not caring as it struck the mantlepiece and fell onto the tiles. `` Babe? What was that?'' My boyfriend's voice echoed from upstairs. 
 
 `` Nothing, nothing,'' I called. `` It's okay.'' 
 
 `` Do you need my help? I'm in the bathroom but I'll be down in a minute.'' 
 
 *Shit. * He hated the very idea of The Algorithm. It was n't that he would be angry with me, but I could n't stand the pitying looks I'd get for weeks if he found out I'd been talking to `` Mom'' and `` Dad.'' The careful talk that would follow about grief, and computers, and letting go. 
 
 I went and fetched the tablet, ready to delete the conversation and block my parents from my contacts again. But, to my surprise, they had n't stopped talking when I had. 
 
 Dad: It means `` sorry, got to go.'' Ellie at the golf club explained it to me last week. 
 
 Mom: Ooh, who is this Ellie? 
 
 Dad: You know, Jim's granddaughter. She's doing work experience there. 
 
 Mom: No competition then.: - ) Speaking of Jim, how is your golf tour going with him? I miss you1 
 
 Dad: It's going great, honey, but I miss you too. Will be back Sunday, though. 
 
 The lump in my throat had trebled in size and my breath hitched. I skimmed back through the messages, deleting them before I chickened out, and then I hastily blocked them from my contacts and exited the messaging programme. I could hear the staircase creaking as my boyfriend made his way to the lounge. 
 
 `` Hey, babe, what's the matter?'' 
 
 `` Oh, nothing,'' I said, but my shaky voice and wobbly smile gave me away. `` Just got a bit of a surprise from someone I used to know.'' 

