Reality

JUNE 2029

I check my phone. I’ve been waiting in the coffee shop for thirty-three minutes now. I stir my lukewarm coffee clockwise, watching the little dots swirl around. I force the spoon counterclockwise, and for a moment, there’s resistance. Then, the dots start swirling in a new direction as if nothing has changed.

A pile of keys are dropped on the table in my peripheral vision.

“Sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the highway. Someone was put in an ambulance. It was awful,” Sam says, plunking down in the seat across from me. “Anyway, as much as I love to see your face, can’t you tell me about this book idea over the phone?”

I look around nervously. “Well...Look, this is going to sound a little...out there. I don’t have a manuscript yet. I just needed to make sure you understood.”

“Okay, then, weirdo,” Sam replies, laughing. “I’m all ears.”

I take a deep breath. “So, I know there are a lot of wacko theories about what life really is. A dream. Simulation. Whatever. But I was thinking...is the idea that this isn’t real really so far-fetched? What if...What if it’s virtual reality? Like...Some of us are actually in a future that’s gone so downhill, we plug in and and end up...Here?”

I’ve tried my best to ignore what I see in Sam’s facial expressions while I talk: Amusement, disbelief, concern, anger. I’ve known Sam long enough since I hired them to expect that these emotions are about to spill over.

“I...can’t believe this,” Sam says. They squeeze their eyes shut, then open them again, as if hoping to wake up from a dream. “I’m sorry, but...How privileged are you, Alice? How ignorant? What about when I was kicked out of my house in high school because I told my parents I wasn’t a girl? Do you think that abandonment was something I wished for? What about the family of the person I saw being put in an ambulance? Do you think they want to almost lose someone they loved? How dare you say this is some kind of goddamn vacation for us!”

“I...I’m sorry, Sam,” I say, trying to make them quiet down. The other people in the shop have started to stare as Sam’s voice rose. “I understand that it’s hard to believe. But think about it! We’re destroying the planet. At some point, everything outside will probably be toxic and dead. And if it’s VR, maybe there’s a way to get out and-”

“Shut up! Just...shut up,” Sam snaps, grabbing their keys and standing. “You need to forget this idea. Or...Find a different publishing agent. I don’t care. I’m leaving. Don’t contact me again until you figure out how wrong you are.”

Helplessly, I stare after Sam, watching the door slam in their wake. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. I do know one thing, though: I can’t let this idea go.

NEW YEAR’S EVE

My eyes open. I’m lying on a floor, adrift in a sea of paper. There’s a glow in the darkness, illuminating headlines with words like “conspiracy theory,” “government,” and “test subjects” on the papers around me. I hear faint yelling outside.

For a moment, I wonder if this is it: This is the life I’ve been escaping through virtual reality. My eyes focus as I sit up. There is no VR device discarded on the floor. The light was just the computer and lamp on my desk. I look down. There’s an envelope by my feet: A water bill. I can’t remember the last time I’ve showered. Or used a toilet. Or drank water.

I rub my eyes, and crawl onto the chair by my desk. My phone is next to the computer keyboard, where it has been for a long time: Plugged in, untouched. There are 17 missed calls. 39 unopened messages. I notice the date, and the time. A vague memory of watching a countdown on a T.V. with college friends passes through my head. It’s replaced by a different thought, a more urgent one: I need answers. I need answers. I need answers.

I just need some evidence. One little bit of proof, and then everyone will understand that this ‘Earth’ isn’t real. Sam will apologize over and over and over again, groveling for my forgiveness. I’ll refuse them at first, of course. Then, after a few months of begging, I’ll finally accept Sam’s apology. Maybe I’ll give them a cut of my paycheck. Take them to a few book signings and award ceremonies. This is Sam, I’ll say. This book wouldn’t be here without them. Their doubt encouraged me to pursue the truth, to reach revelation.

In the real world, I’ll shake hands with the inventor of this virtual reality, who is amazed that I figured it all out.

I just need to find the answers. Answers...answers. I think I’m close, I just need to look a little more. Is someone in my apartment? I hear loud noises, like shrieking.

I laugh. No, it’s just me, talking to myself.

My fingers ache. My mouth feels a little...strange. The answers have to be here somewhere. My throat. My throat, my throat is closing up. I gag. The dimly lit room comes into focus again. I put down the computer. The panel is ripped off. Wires and metal pieces are partly torn out, dark liquid smeared on them. It looks like an animal was chewing on them. I cough, my bloody fingernails clawing at my throat. The smell and taste of metal and plastic floods my senses.

I’m on the floor again, spluttering. I hear the phone ringing in the background.

There are chewed up bits of computer guts scattered on the floor. I think I need to get mouse traps.

MAY 2034

“Sir? Sir, it happened again. I had to end the session. She was close to figuring it out.”

“Oh, for God’s sakes. Start it again. We only have a year left to stop this, Peter. You know what will happen if we come up empty-handed.”

“Yes, sir. Alright, this is Doctor Peter Bernstein, recording Trial 1,704. The date is 8 May 2034. The time is currently 1300 hours. Inmate is Alice Myers, arrested in 2030 for sedition. The inmate’s diagnoses include psychotic disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, and obsessive compulsive disorder. These are manipulated to terminate the virtual reality session if necessary.”

JUNE 2029

I check my phone. I’ve been waiting in the coffee shop for thirty-three minutes now.

Artwork: "Polybius" by Aaron Loving