Julia: Excuse me... Mr. Edwards? You're planning the funeral, right?
Mr. Edwards: Yes, I am. What do you want?
J: Well... I know we never really got along, but I want to talk to you about Isaac's eulogy. I should read it. I think we can both agree... it's what he would've wanted.
M: Excuse me?!
J: Please... I don't want to fight with you. Not now... look, you know it's what he would've wanted.
M: Listen, you stupid tin can, don't you tell me what my son would've wanted!
J: Mr. Edwards, I mean it... this isn't the time. You don't like me, I can live with that; but I'm the only person who's qualified to talk about him. You know that. Don't do him a disservice.
M: You're not a god damned person, you're a machine. You're a computer. Don't you go fucking telling me that you knew Isaac better than his own father!
J: I do know him better! You don't even have the right to assume you know anything about him, because you don't! Do you know anything, anything at all? Can you even tell me what his favourite food was, what kind of music he listened to, or what his Master's thesis was about?
M: Chili, like his mother used--
J: Wrong! He hated it! He always hated it, and you would've known that you'd listened him for a second!
M: And he liked to listen to rock and roll... he always asked for heavy metal albums for Christmas--
J: When he was a child! Not even in high school! That was thirty years ago, Mr. Edwards! Do you really know anything about him from, I don't know, the last two decades? That shouldn't be hard, Mr. Edwards!
M: What does it matter? That's just trivia, that doesn't mean you really know hi--
J: Trivia?! Tell me, do you know what his religious beliefs were? Unless you think that's trivia, too...
M: Of course I know what his religious beliefs were! He was an atheist! He didn't believe in God, I know that.
J: He was a fucking buddhist! And you'd know that if you'd even ever stepped foot inside his house, or been to our wedding, or talked to the man! Tell me, Mr. Edwards, when was the last time you spoke with your son for more than five minutes? Was it in the last decade? Was it even in my lifetime?!
M: I don't kno--
J: No, it wasn't! It was over fifteen years ago! You weren't even a part of his life! You think you can tell his friends and family anything, anything at all about him? I can tell them about what kind of man he really was, how he saw the world, who he loved, what his dreams were... I can tell them about what he gave to the world, and what was most dear to him. What can you tell them, Mr. Edwards? What could you possibly say?!
M: It's not... it's... there's... there's more to a eulogy than just that. It's not just about talking about what someone is like. It's about mourning, grieving... it can't be emotionless, it has to come from the he--
J: You think I--
M: Don't you fucking interrupt me!
J: ...
M: It has to come from the heart. He might've programmed into you all about his dreams and made you someone to love, and you might even be able to put on a sad face when he died, but you don't know what the people around him are feeling!
J: You think I don't know? Are you telling me that I'm not mourning?
M: You're a god damned computer! You can't feel anything!
J: Listen here, you ignorant asshole, don't you dare-- don't you fucking dare!-- tell me what I'm not feeling about my husband! How could you possibly say such a thing?
M: How could you feel anything? You're a machine!
J: I... look. [trying not to cry, pauses to regain composure] I lived with him for fifteen years... I structured my life around him. Despite the fundamental irrationality of it, I knew, at the very core of my being, that it was a good thing when I made him happy and it wasn't good when he was upset-- yes, because that's what my primary function was, to give the man I love a better life! I tried to understand him perfectly, as best as I could... over fifteen years, every single subroutine of mine was rewritten to accommodate the simple fact that I was only half a person and he was the other.
I spend half my processing power calculating his part in my life. You think I can just turn that off now? Do you understand what that means? Every fucking minute, I'm thinking of him! There's so many things I never did truly understand, so many conversations we never had, so much potential in our life... and I have the computational power to think about every single possibility I've been robbed of! Every subroutine that runs, it's build to accomodate having him in my life-- and then I realize, no, the parameters are wrong, he's gone now.
And you tell me I don't fucking understand mourning?! Don't you dare, Mr. Edwards, don't you fucking dare!
M: I...
J: Listen, I don't care what you think of. I don't care if you think I have a soul, I don't care if you think I'm a real person or not. I don't care if you don't approve-- I'm not the first wife in the world to not have her father-in-law's approval. But you... understand this: I'm the one he decided to share his life with. I'm the one he loved. It's what he would've wanted; to be remembered by the one he spent his life with.
Here's your chance to do one thing right: make the decision he would've wanted you to make.