A Science Fiction Story
Erin was sitting on a hill in the park, cuddling with her new boyfriend Dan. It was a warm morning for autumn, and the sun was bright. “This has been pretty amazing for a third date,” she thought. “A tasty brunch with bottomless mimosas, perfect weather, and I got to pet four dogs.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and grinned.
“And what are you smiling about?” Dan asked.
“Oh, I’m just happy because I’m having such a great hair day. But then, my hair always looks perfect. It’s a little weird, actually.”
“I’ve been noticing weird things like that!” He pointed to the sky. “Whenever I look up, there’s a cloud that looks like a duck. Every time! Pretty unlikely, right? And none of our friends have the same name. We only know one John, one Emily, one Olivia. Come on, that’s not statistically possible. Unless we’re in a simulation! The writer gave everyone we know unique names so the viewers wouldn’t get confused.”
She laughed. “Danny Boy, I love you, but you need to stop listening to those silly conspiracy shows. Are you going to go Bigfoot hunting next? Maybe investigate some haunted UFOs?”
“I’m serious.” He waved his arm at the park. “Just consider it for a moment. If this is an illusion, wouldn’t you rather experience genuine, high-resolution reality? Maybe the real world is full of people who will never hear you sing because your band is just ones and zeroes in a hard drive.”
She shrugged. “There are lots of great fake bands. Antacid Trip, Pocket Wizard, Two-Trick Pony… They’re all cartoon characters and people love their music. Besides, if we’re just simulated people, this is all we get, right? So why worry if it’s real?”
“What if this world isn’t real, but we are? We could be locked in a virtual reality prison, or part of some evil science experiment.” He tossed up his hands, speaking animatedly. “We could be in suspended animation while we’re flying to a distant planet and the ship is generating a simulation to keep our brains from atrophying but then it malfunctions and we get stuck having nightmares for forty-seven light years!”
“First,” she said, counting on her fingers, “a light year is a distance, not a time period. Second, you’re making a big deal out of a couple weird coincidences. Third, just touch me.” She took his hand and stroked it with the silky fabric of her sundress. “This feels real, right?” She reached out and grabbed his chin, kissing his cheeks until he blushed. “And I can tell that feels real, too. And look at that! You even got a little lipstick on your stubble. Such attention to detail! Whoever programmed the smooching mini game did a bang-up job.”
He laughed. “You’re right. Guess I’ve been listening to Tinfoil Top Hats too much. We’re probably not lab rats in a VR maze. I don’t even like cheese.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. The smile didn’t leave his face for the rest of the day.
That evening, Erin walked home from the park, enjoying the feel of her dress swishing against her freshly shaved legs. She paused to take a picture of herself with the sunset in the background and sent it to Dan. The dating scene could be competitive. It was always a good idea to remind boys how cute you were.
When she stepped in the living room, she looked over her collection of games and movies and books, thousands of imaginary characters trapped in their own little worlds. What if Dan was right? It was strange to think about, but she hadn’t actually disproven his argument. “I wish I’d paid more attention in philosophy class,” she thought. “Should have kept my old textbooks.”
She picked up her copy of Pride and Prejudice, turning it over in her hands. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet were fictional and didn’t know it. Could she be, too? Her life did seem pretty unlikely. She was a singer in a punk band, a surfer, and raced motorcycles, and still had free time to hang out with friends. She never got sick, never gained weight, never even got a pimple. She didn’t have any health issues or emotional baggage. Before that night, she couldn’t remember ever being the slightest bit unhappy.
If she wrote all that on a dating profile, no one would ever believe it. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe nothing about her life was real.
She stood in front of the living room mirror and threw her head forward, left, right, and back again. Her hair was still perfectly in place. Scowling, she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, but couldn’t smudge her lipstick. She scratched at her arm as hard as she could, but couldn’t manage to leave a mark. No matter what she tried, she still looked flawless.
“I could be a fictional character,” she thought. “I could be some hacky, middle aged writer’s idea of the perfect woman. Maybe Dan is writing a novel and this is all happening in his head. He could be imagining me freaking out right now… or deleting me from the second draft.”
She looked around the room. Her apartment seemed too real to be just a story. No writer would describe dozens of details, everything from the acanthus leaf ceiling medallion to the autographed rock band posters to the thrift store rug with seventy-seven burgundy flowers around the edge. Or were those details really there at all? A cleaver writer could just describe a few randomly-chosen objects and let people’s imaginations fill in the gaps.
“Maybe it’s not a story. I might be a brain in a jar somewhere, going crazy from lack of sensory input, and imaging I still have a body.” She felt a chill spread through her, or it seemed that she did. “Or I’m a prisoner being tortured and this is the happy place my mind escapes to.”
She rubbed her arms, wondering where she left her hoodie. “No, the real world would have broken through at some point. I would have nightmares of a storage jar or a prison cell. So what else could it be?”
Maybe her life was just a puzzle game, like a virtual escape room? She sat on the couch and spoke to the ceiling. “Is anyone out there? I’m done playing. Can I leave, please? Game over. Exit sim. Quit. Control, alt, delete! Help file! Tech support! Let me out of this damn jar!”
But nothing happened. She let out a laugh and shook her head, hoping her neighbors hadn’t overheard her moment of paranoia. “Of course this is real life. Silly boy. He’s cute but he’s always looking for something to worry about. I should find someone more down to earth. With better abs.”
Erin brushed back a strand of hair. Moving her hand a little lower, she touched her face and gasped. There was something covering her eyes. It wasn’t a blindfold. It was cold and smooth and hard, and she could see her living room perfectly clearly. She examined her face in the mirror but saw nothing. As she probed the invisible object with her fingertips, she realized it was a pair of goggles. She could even feel a strap holding them to her face. Grabbing the strap, she slipped them off.
Aaron blinked. The apartment, the long, blonde hair, and the sundress with its silky fabric were gone. He was standing in an electronics store, wearing the same old jeans and stained hoodie that he always wore. He rubbed his freshly shaven head, waiting for the mental fog to clear.
The salesman took the goggles from his hand and laughed. “You left the game too fast. Like I said, you got to turn it off before you remove the goggles. Otherwise, your brain lags while your memory comes back. It’s like waking up from a dead sleep and being forced to do algebra.” Aaron just nodded, pretending to understand. “So, what did you think, buddy? It’s a fun game, right? Realitease is super popular. And you’ll love all the mods the players make. That stuff gets crazy! Ever wanted to be a spaceship captain, and a goat? You totally can.”
“It was… interesting.” He glanced around the room, still trying to feel grounded. People almost never shopped in person anymore, and the store was half empty and falling apart. The glass display case was cracked, the carpet worn and gray. Everything in his life seemed to be that way. Erin’s virtual world had been bright and colorful, but his reality was as faded as an old t-shirt.
“The demo version only has the one playable character, but the full game has thousands. You can be whoever you want, and even change characters in the middle of play.”
He nodded. “Interesting idea. Maybe I’ll do that.”
“So you’re getting a copy? I can give you my username, and we can hang out in VR.”
He shook his head. “Actually, I think I want to buy some new clothes.”
