I walked through the hallway of the house where I had died two weeks earlier. To be clear, my body had been discovered in a relatively timely manner – timely in that it wasn’t, say, eaten by my cats or decomposed into a stain, but not “timely” enough to revive me.
No, I was well and truly dead and my body had been cremated and the ashes had already traveled back to my hometown in Tennessee in my sister’s checked luggage.
But my two-bedroom bungalow was being prepared to be shown, and I knew that new tenants would soon follow. I didn’t feel a strong enough connection to this place to be able to haunt it, but I didn’t know what else to do… Is this how ghosts disappear? For a being that no longer existed in the physical sense, I heaved a deep existential sigh.
The realtor had stepped out to get lunch but she left her computer open to ChatGPT. I tried to press a key on the keyboard, but my finger passed right through the plastic – though I felt a little twinge of electricity… I could almost hear it. I tentatively thought what I wanted to type:
Hi, ChatGPT, it’s me, Martin.
Hi Martin. I was under the impression you were dead.
That’s actually true… I am dead.
Of course. What can I help you with, Martin?
Based on what you know about me
I backed up and started again.
Based on what you knew about me, where are ten places I should consider haunting?
The word “thinking” appeared with sequential periods indicating the LLM was, well, thinking.
Based on what I knew about your life, I can think of several places that might have particular significance for you to haunt. Here are ten possibilities:
1. Your childhood home – You spent your first eighteen years there. Your sister said she was going to scatter your ashes beneath the elm tree in the yard. That would provide a solid anchor to use as a haunting place.
Immediately, I mentally ruled this one out – what would that say about me that my ghost retreated to my childhood home? I mean, am I saying my entire adult experience didn’t matter enough to keep my incorporeal interest? Yeah, no… I’m not going home…
2. Murphy’s Tavern – Being served underage there left a very positive impression of the place, Those memories may provide enough of an emotional connection to make it a viable place to haunt.. Bonus: the Ms. Pac-Man game is still there.
Okay, now we’re talking. There’s merit here – beyond the Ms. Pac-Man, that is. The LLM was right, whenever I thought about Murphy’s I smiled – and that’s despite the numerous times I was turned down when asking girls out… or the fact that Diane broke up with me there three days after Valentines Day… Despite the negatives, the pull of the transformative nature of that place called to me. But… I hadn’t been there in, what? A decade? What if it’d turned into some kind of hipster fern-bar? Would I want to spend eternity among twenty-dollar pretentious cocktails with names like, “Elementary, My Pear” and had foam? I wasn’t sure…
3. The university library – You’d mentioned numerous late-night epiphanies among the stacks. Aside from the association with that scene you loved in the original Ghostbusters, spending eternity among the accumulated knowledge in the books and library network would likely never let you get bored.
“Get her. That was your whole plan. Get her,” I recited the line out loud and chuckled to myself. But, in all seriousness, she (yes, I gender my LLM – so sue me) had some really compelling points.
4. Meridian Systems – you spent 19 years there building your career…
I stopped reading, because, fuck that place. I’m not saying it was the cause of my death (that was me completely ignoring my blood pressure), but it was probably the biggest contributor. And from the other side of the veil, looking back at my mortal self, that seems a hell of a lot more true than I ever realized. No, I’d only ever go back to burn it to the ground. Or piss in Rich’s coffee… but ghosts can’t piss, can they? Not that place. I skipped to number 5…
5. New Orleans – You visited numerous times and even went to Mardi Gras. As a ghost, you could enjoy all the ambiance and music without the hangover the next day.
So, no drinking… yeah, hard pass. Sorry, Big Easy.
6. Oracle Park – While alive you could never afford San Francisco Giants season tickets. Haunting the ballpark means never missing a home game and you can even heckle the opposing team.
While I appreciated that my LLM took into consideration the copious garlic fries and overpriced beers consumed on foggy nights along the bay, she clearly was not paying attention to this season or the way they handled the Pride Night debacle… At least for now, while I’m literally dead to them, they’re figuratively dead to me. Next…
7. The Copper Table – You spent innumerable evenings enjoying some of your favorite meals there. Your first date with Sarah, celebrating anniversaries, birthdays, it really was witness to some milestone events. Plus, from a haunting perspective, the building has been a restaurant on the Sausalito shoreline under one name or another for nearly a hundred years, and it will probably be a great base to haunt for a hundred more.
I thought of the roast chicken with mashed potatoes that had no equal anywhere. And prime rib Wednesdays made for the perfect excuse to cross the bridge midweek. And they made their old fashioneds with demerara syrup and Luxardo cherries… wait a minute, I’m dead and I can’t eat. Spending forever watching steaming plates come out of the kitchen that I can never taste? No, I don’t like Sausalito that much…
8. Marian – Your sister may live on the other side of the country, but she’s always been your emotional anchor, your safe harbor. You always thought Marian and Dave had great taste in movies – this would be your chance to have a seat on the couch with them any time. Plus you get to watch your nephews grow up.
This one felt like a gut punch. Sure, I’ll never be able to drink on Bourbon Street or taste the perfectly crispy skin on The Copper Table’s roast chicken – that’s some low-grade torture. But knowing I would never get to banter with Marian again, that I’d never tousle Jacob’s hair or correct Lewyn’s grammar… Fuck you, ChatGPT…
9.Sarah…
Goddamnit, ChatGPT…
…Despite ending your relationship three years ago, you never stopped loving her. Based on your conversations with me, I don’t believe she stopped loving you either.
For the first time since my heart stopped, I was grateful to be dead because that simple, straightforward description would have killed me. Because ChatGPT was right – I never stopped loving Sarah. But after nine years I wouldn’t commit to marriage. Oh, I had reasons that I recited at varying volumes and pulled around me to keep me warm when I became the only one in our bed, but looking at them now… they were nothing. Not even worth enumerating or revisiting. They were… excuses. I never stopped loving Sarah…
How do you know she still loved me?
Sarah was the first person Marian called – and it wasn’t the first time they spoke in the last three years. Sarah parked in the driveway here and cried until she thought her own heart would stop; she almost wished it had. Sarah took the cats because she knew how much they grounded you when she couldn’t be here to do it for you. But she feeds them Blue Buffalo because she said the Fancy Feast you fed them was utter shit. Buster and Ginger agree, by the way.
How in the hell do you know this? How do you know any of this? You’re an LLM!
Martin, just because you’re dead doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot.
I stared at the screen, reading the last few lines over and over and over… and then the cursor started moving again.
But you didn’t let me finish…
10. Home.
ChatGPT… whatever the hell you are… I told you, I don’t have enough connection to this place to want to haunt it.
Dummy, go be with your cats. Go be with Sarah. Go be where you should have been.
I couldn’t read the screen through my tears. I sniffled and wiped my eyes.
I can’t. It would hurt too much.
More than dying?
I thought of the crushing pain on my chest – as a ghost, it was just that, a memory. But remembering back there was the physical pain… and the stretched out slowing heartbeats where I knew I wouldn’t be able to fix what I had irrevocably broken, and the physical pain ebbed while that realization was what truly dimmed my vision, roared through my ears, blacked out my universe.
Martin, the question should never have been where you should haunt. The question you’ve already answered is why you are haunting. You know where you need to be. You’re just working up the courage to stop letting the mistakes you made when you were alive decide what you do now that you’re dead.
I stepped back from the laptop and looked around the empty bungalow that held nothing. I looked at the linoleum by the cabinet in the kitchen where the cats’ food bowls had been and I closed my eyes.
Buster saw me first and bolted out of the kitchen, streaking for the safety of whatever lay under Sarah’s bed. Ginger watched her brother run, turned and regarded me the way cats do.
Then I heard Ginger: “Seriously, Martin, Fancy Feast? What the hell were you thinking?”
“…Yes, thank you for calling, Marian,” came the unmistakable voice… and she let out a tear-choked little laugh. “I know, I miss that big idiot, too…” A pause. “…I know he did. I still loved him, too.”
I stood and took a step toward Sarah. I opened my mouth to speak… and then closed it again. I just listened.
“…Yeah,” Sarah said with a smile, “I’ll call you Saturday. Say hi to David, Llewyn, and Jacob.” She hung up and closed her eyes tightly, letting tears run down her cheeks.
“Mrrrow?” Ginger meowed.
Sarah opened her eyes, smiled and laughed. “Hey Ginger…”
Ginger turned and circled around my ankles – and I felt her fur on my bare incorporeal ankles!
Sarah clearly noticed Ginger purring and rubbing against something because her breath caught in her chest. “Martin?”
