Digital Farewell

In the dimly lit corridors, a soft hum resonated, a constant reminder of the servers working in overdrive. Each room along the hall held memories of thousands. It was here that the past merged with the present, allowing moments of reconnection for those who sought it.

Stepping into one of these chambers, I glanced at the timer above the door. "Just five minutes," I whispered to myself. The usually opaque wall shimmered to life, becoming a translucent mirror. Staring back at me wasn't my reflection, but a face I had come to see every year – my father's.

"They hiked the rates again, didn't they?" he remarked, his eyes scanning mine for signs of distress. The environment he stood in was a precise replica of my chamber, down to the solitary chair's creased leather.

A lump formed in my throat, "How can you tell?"

His chuckle was bittersweet. "You have that same look your mother used to get when bills came in."

I tried to muster a smile. "I've been managing, Dad. Even landed a commission recently."

"Tell me about it," his voice was eager, seeking details, moments of my life he'd missed.

"It's just a marble horse for a hotel lobby. Not my best work," I admitted, letting out a sigh. My fingers played nervously with a ring on my finger, a relic of better days. "Jen and I, we... well, we're not together anymore."

The virtual visage of my father showed genuine sadness. "I'm truly sorry, son. You spoke so fondly of her during our last session."

"It's been a few months. We've found a way to move past it, remaining friends at least." I hesitated, the weight of the year pressing down. "Things have been hard, Dad. Sometimes, I feel like I'm adrift."

He nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. "Every year I see you, I see strength. It's just... hidden under layers of doubt. But you'll find your way. I believe in you."

"I wish you were really here," I whispered, voice cracking.

He looked down, his form slightly pixelating as if struggling with the emotion. "You should let me go, son."

Tears welled up, blurring my vision. "How can I? You're all I have left."

"You have so much more. Friends, memories, and a future that's waiting. Think of those who never had this chance, to speak with loved ones after their time."

The timer beeped softly, signaling the impending end. "Is this it, then? Our final conversation?"

He looked up, determination evident. "It's time for you to live fully in the present. And for me, to rest in your memories."

"I love you, Dad. Always."

"As I do you."

As the final chime echoed, the room plunged back into its original state. Exiting, my steps felt heavier yet strangely unburdened. At the reception, the attendant gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Would you like to schedule for next year?"

"No," I responded, voice firmer than I expected. "You can delete my father's data. I think... I think I'm ready to move forward."

The attendant nodded, understanding evident in her eyes. I stepped out, the world outside seeming a tad brighter, filled with possibilities.