At the Museum of Holographic Art
by M.K. Hutchins
I met Ernest inside the Museum of Holographic Art, in the Bio-Interfacing wing. He gave me a peck on the cheek. I squeezed his hand.
"How'd your appointment go this morning?" he asked.
"Good!" I answered reflexively. Though that didn't exactly cover it. I chewed my bottom lip. Should I tell him now, here? I'd had two hours to digest the news, and I still didn't know how to tell him.
Before I could come up with the right words, the usher came and led us into the holo-recreation of Henry Ossawa Tanner's "The Annunciation."
The display was a joint effort of the Animist Christian Artist's Coalition. According to the nearby plaque, they wanted to show reactions from everything present during this holy moment--from Mary to the walls themselves. As we waded through the hologram, the various objects hummed with different emotions. The waterfall of blue cloth resonated with calm peacefulness. The bricks were steady -- as if they'd always known. The tiny oil lamp trilled with excitement. The rumpled rug seemed unsure what all of this meant.
The artists had done a sublime job with Mary, though in honesty, Tanner had already captured every emotion on her face. Quiet contemplation sang in my bones as I stepped through her. A moment ago, she'd had one vision of her own future, and now that imagined life was gone, replaced with something both glorious and overwhelming.
I squeezed Ernest's hand. He squeezed back. Like normal. Unsuspecting, unknowing.