"They all lived happily ever after," Grandma Rose finished.
"That story never gets old," said Lily, snuggling into her fleece covers. She smiled at her parents, who silently watched in the corner.
"No, it doesn't." Grandma Rose stood as Lily tucked herself in. She touched Grandma Rose's hand, but couldn't feel her warmth.
Grandma Rose smiled lightly. "Goodnight, baby," she whispered, and started to hum a lullaby. Lily’s mother accompanied her. Comforted by the familiar tune, Lily faded into a deep sleep.
After exactly seven minutes of the tune, Grandma Rose suddenly ceased and the air was still. She stared at the ceiling.
Lily's father pressed a button on the bedside table. The hologram of Grandma Rose vanished, the machine unplugged. After they had each given Lily a light kiss, they quietly exited the room.
As they closed the door, Lily’s mother sighed, "It was a great idea to do the Remembrance Program. Lily was so upset when Momma passed."
Lily's father nodded. "Many years ago, when they had the idea to do a questionnaire to keep a persons’ personality intact, I knew it was the start of something big. If only they had thought to come up with it sooner."
"RP helps so many people. Parents are doing it as a precaution now," her mother continued.
"We'd said that if we remembered her, she'd always be with us," her father commented. "With RP, she is."
They looked back at Lily's silent room, slowly closing their bedroom door.