《Silence》


 Chapter 1

    I¡¯m not deaf. I know I can hear. I talk, and my voice echoes throughout the house. And yet, the noises that I¡¯m making are the only noises that can be heard.


    I¡¯m scared. I open the silent door to the backyard and the sound of the trees rustling¡­ should be there but isn¡¯t. A squirrel jumps down from a tree onto the metal table and birds on branches open their beaks to sing¡­ but I hear nothing. I go back inside and open the pantry and find cereal. My stomach growls at the thought of food.


    I find a bowl and a spoon after scouring through the cabinets and drawers, and I pour myself some cereal. Looking at the meal, I feel I¡¯m missing something. Milk. I tug open the refrigerator and see a gallon container of milk. Carefully I add it to my small bowl of relief, and after replacing the milk, begin my meal. I pick up a spoonful and place it in my mouth, but there is no crunch. There¡¯s no taste.


    Then I scream. It dawns on me that I didn¡¯t really feel the texture of everything that I have touched so far. I could touch them, I could feel their weight, I could feel the resistance of the surface against my skin, but I could not feel the texture. I wasn¡¯t truly feeling. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Black dots appear in my vision. I¡¯m panicking. Remembering some paper bags in one of the drawers, I rush to pull one out and use it to calm my breathing. I lay down on the ground and relax. Panicking won¡¯t help the situation at all, I think.


    Think.


    I sit up. Someone else should know what¡¯s happening. I unlock the front door and leave the house. I go from door to door and find that every house on the street is exactly the same: the front door is open and the house is empty of life. A part of a human body part--face, arm, chest, or something else--lays on every single bed with the ends cut off and leaking what looks like a digital code.


    This all feels so unreal. I try the nearby convenience store and the high school; everything is the same save for the placements of the body parts. It¡¯s an impossible world. Then I wonder, what world do I live in? Am I even alive? Who am I?

 Chapter 2

    A memory comes back to me. A baby on a swing, laughing. I open my eyes, the scene of pure bliss etched in my head.


    The park. I know where it is. I don¡¯t know how; I just do. Kicking off my blankets, I stand up and leave the house once again. One left, one right, straight.


    Like everywhere else, the park is deserted. Why I expected anything different, I can¡¯t say. I suppose my memory, or rather fragment of a memory, led me to believe otherwise. I stare at the swing.


    Almost as if my thought controls this world, a figure of white numbers appears and then morphs to become a child, the child in my memory. It doesn¡¯t move, however. It¡¯s like time is frozen, the swing stopped mid-swing. I sigh.


    The scene does not change. Just in case, I jog back to the house and back out to here. Neither the baby¡¯s position nor the swing has moved.


    Then I realize that they are defying the laws of physics. The branches of trees nearby are swaying in a wind that does not seem to touch me or my clothes. Theoretically, the swings should also be moving under the wind, but they stay completely still. I smirk. The god who made this world sure did one horrible job.


    A swing falls to the ground in the corner of my vision. I jump, frightened at the sudden movement. Taking a closer look, I see the chain was elongated and now moves with the wind. It is as if this world is responding to me.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Excited, I start jumping up and down and flapping my arms. If this world is responding to me, wouldn¡¯t that make me like that guy in that trilogy about technology and hooking up to machines...what was his name...Neo? So if someone shot me, I could change the trajectory of a bullet, or I could warp the world around one point, or I could fly, or I could¡­ There are endless possibilities. I try flying; it seems like the safest, most reasonable choice to try.


    I keep jumping until my body weighs down on me and I can no longer jump. Despite a ton of things defying physics and the random happenstances that seemed to have occurred in response to my thoughts, it seems that I myself cannot change the law. Shame.


    Then again, I¡¯m not the creator, or even a god, in this world. I am merely the only living human.


    Again, I sigh. This one fragment is the only memory i have. Is it possible something happened to make my memories scrambled and now my brain is working to unscramble them? That would explain why this random image came back to me. What would have caused this to happen, thought? I wonder and wonder as I walk down streets I have walked millions of times before.


    Millions of times? I live here. Or rather, I¡¯ve lived here. I know this place, I know this neighborhood, I know this town. I know the province, the state, the country, the continent. The world. I know these things, and yet, I don¡¯t know anything.


    Subatomic particles make atoms make molecules make substances and solids. But who or what found out all of this? Was the cathode ray tube just a mistake by someone?


    All living things are made of matter. There are laws of physics, of chemistry, of biology. The names of these laws I cannot figure out, but I know they exist. And no one is here to tell me otherwise or prove the facts.


    No one.


    I scream in frustration. The kid on the swing smiles back at me, seeming to laugh at my existence, At the fact that I know nothing.


    I can¡¯t take this anymore.

 Chapter 3

    No way. No freaking way.


    I¡¯m in bed, again.


    The first day, I didn¡¯t even remember falling asleep. The second day--yesterday--I¡¯m pretty sure I fell asleep on the park bench.


    Can I even call them days? The sun never went down. Strangely enough, the sun¡¯s brightness doesn¡¯t bother my eyes at all. Not even when I go from a darker to a lighter area.


    Alright, let¡¯s call them days, where a day starts when I wake in bed. So today is officially the third day. I need to write this down somewhere. I search the house for a pen and paper. Despite being in year 20032 (it¡¯s 2032? What happened between 0 and 2032?) I¡¯m still old-school, whatever that means. I like my pen and paper.


    I find paper on a shelf in the office of...my house and use a pen from one of the boxes of seemingly new pens next to the paper. After drawing three marks, I pin the paper to the living room wall with a small knife from the kitchen. Then it occurs to me, what if the world resets every time I sleep?


    I run to the park and find the baby still sitting lifelessly on the swing. I heave a sigh of relief. Then my stomach growls. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Upon returning home I open the fridge and take out an apple. I start to cut the fruit with one of the other small knives, but then I see some blood spilling out and feel a tingling sensation on my left hand. I¡¯d cut myself.


    It doesn¡¯t hurt, like I expect it to. I stand still, watching the blood flow out in amazement before I realize that I should stem the flow. As I start to move, however, the blood turns into white numbers--like the ones flying off the edges of all those body parts or the ones that made up the baby on the swing--and disappears. A string of the numbers floats across my finger and the cut closes. I¡¯m amused more than amazed. What would happen if I get a bigger injury? Or if I drown? Not that I really want to try, but doesn¡¯t this make me virtually immortal?


    I bite into the apple and feel it crunch between my teeth. Again, no taste, no sound, no texture. It catches in my throat and I cough. Mechanically, I pull out a cup and fill it with water from the refrigerator. Water is the only thing that tastes like it should: nothing. I grimace. Were my jokes always this bad?


    I have a sudden urge to pee. Running to the bathroom I tug off my belt and relieve myself. I glance in the mirror as I wash my hands and see a handsome face staring back at me. I admire my face, then pull of my shirt and stare at my body. Was I some sort of model? Is that even...me?


    I touch my abs and involuntarily shiver. My hands are still wet. Strange. I wipe them on one of the two hanging towels and realize I left the water running. Not being able to hear is turning out to be quite the hassle. If this were the real world, I would be wasting a ton of money. Wait a minute, real world? This world is not real?


    Another memory comes back to me.

 Chapter 4

    ¡°My Baby Dragon,¡± a woman says in some language not English, ¡°You¡¯re all grown up. You¡¯re going to be married now.¡± I remember the gentle caressing of her fingers on my face, her bright and melodic voice, the tears in her dark brown eyes. Nothing else.


    I guess she was my mom; I have her same eyes and face shape. I sit up in bed, my vision blurry. I feel something on my cheeks and touch them. When I pull away my fingers, they¡¯re wet. I¡¯m crying. And then I¡¯m sobbing and there¡¯s a great pain in my chest that seems to pull me down with all the weight in the world.


    Without knowing why, I¡¯m breaking down.


    At some point I get out of bed and wash my face. The me in the mirror carries such a depressed atmosphere that I wish I hadn¡¯t looked. After wiping, I make another mark on the paper in the living room and decide to try going somewhere new. I find swimming trunks in one of the drawers of my room and goggles in the bathroom. I fetch my keys from my nightstand.


    In the garage, a sleek red BMW sits. I click a button, and the car¡¯s headlights light up. Smiling giddily, I get in and start the car.


    Driving without anyone around is so nice but lonely. Nice, because no people means no bad drivers, but lonely, because even though I don¡¯t remember it, I miss the presence of other people. How long I will have to go on this way, I don¡¯t know. I hope it¡¯s not that long.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    I drive to a beach. Some pretty clean and deserted beach. The water laps at the sand so peacefully. I change in the open, feeling so awkward and free at the same time.


    Splashing into the water, I frown in disappointment. As usual, I can¡¯t feel the water. Nevertheless, I continue to venture further.


    A wave splashes over my head and I¡¯m underwater. I¡¯m breathing. It¡¯s against logical thought. Then I remember what I thought yesterday. This world isn¡¯t real.


    But swimming is just as tiring, and I groan internally.


    I open my eyes underwater to see parts of fish and many other things, cut off like the human body parts, with numbers floating into the water. Sea anemone, a few clown fish, a school of silver fish, some octopi, jellyfish, and a couple other life forms along with all the plants are the only completed living things. Unlike the baby on the swing, they move. I smile in wonder.


    A dolphin swims past, and I realize I¡¯m far from the shore. The dolphin seems to laugh at me, but I can¡¯t hear its chattering. I reach out and it swims closer to let me touch its fin. Lightly grabbing hold, I giggle in glee as the dolphin hauls me to shore.


    I lay on the beach and wait to dry off in the sun. Somewhere along the way I seem to doze off.


    This world isn¡¯t real. I can breathe underwater and heal almost immediately. I have a ¡°starting point¡±¡± for every day--my bed. But then what is real? Where are my memories? Are they even real? What about what I know? Am I real?

 Chapter 5

    Day 50. I¡¯ve started a diary since that day at the beach recounting what I¡¯ve done and everything I¡¯ve found out. I¡¯m a married man living in 2032 who currently lives in a ¡°fake¡± unfinished world. I seem to have at least one kid, or at least I think that kid at the park is mine.


    When something major--like exploding the house--happens, the world is reset and a new day begins, with the exception of a few things like the baby in the park or the paper in my living room. Luckily, the BMW also resets, with the keys put in the same exact place on my nightstand and the car in the garage, or I would be dead bored by now.


    I have done a few experiments to test my knowledge; at least in this world, the facts that I know are real. For instance, hydrogen gas is flammable.


    Anyways, until now, no more memories have resurfaced. In this one I¡¯m smiling through tears at an unbelievably beautiful lady. We kiss and hug, and I¡¯m saying goodbye. She must be my wife. Who else would I kiss so tenderly?


    Saying goodbye. I left her? For what? I¡¯m incredibly confused. I left my wife for this...seemingly alternate, unfinished world? I¡¯m absolutely baffled. Why would I do such a thing?


    The only conclusion I come to is that it is a job. I¡¯m here for some reason in order to cause something to happen.


    Then it hits me. The numbers. The ¡°unfinished¡± part of the world. The baby from my memory. The elongating of the chain on the swing.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    This world is a virtual reality. It was created by people, and from what¡¯s going on, is most likely being innovated upon.


    Then the next question. How did I get here? Virtual reality has only progressed so far as to create a world through goggles. All virtual reality still required a functional body. Yet, when I cut myself, I healed. I don¡¯t have anything on my head, or at least I think I don¡¯t, and when my house explodes--killing me with it--a new day begins and the world is reset. Or maybe this world is being created through my brain? My brain was hooked up to a virtual body.


    I start to become frightened. If this space becomes the ¡°new¡± world, the world will lose its meaning. Every interaction will be virtual, people can become whoever they want to become, people can spur on others to do actions without anyone knowing who they truly are.


    Why would I participate in such a massive project probably requiring millions of engineers smoothing over every detail? This project will be extremely dangerous. Anyone who gets connected to VR can easily die. Terrorists no longer have to use real bombs--they can just use virtual bombs that shut off the connection between a person and a body.


    If such a thing happens, would a person¡¯s consciousness be immortal? Could a person technically live forever? No. People die if their brains die. Or do they?


    I stare outside. 49 days have passed and I still cannot tell time. My eyelids feel heavy and I see a new sight. The dining table is bathed in the glow of a setting sun.


    After all this time, the sun finally sets? I walk outside and climb up to the roof. From there I watch the sun setting and a full moon shining. I forgot how beautiful the night sky is. But where are the constellations? Every star seems to have been randomly placed. I sigh. The engineers need to put in more effort. At this rate, I will die before the world is finished.


    Can I even die? Is my body preserved or something?

 Chapter 6

    The full moon shines brightly. Another mistake. Ten days have passed and the moon hasn¡¯t waned at all. I chuckle. The engineers must be getting it. Or maybe it¡¯s only been a day or two in the real world since I first awoke in this one.


    I enter the bathroom and reach for the shaver, an old habit I have after I wake up. I look in the mirror and remember I don¡¯t need to shave.


    In the office, I turn on the desktop and search through the programs and files. There is no internet connection and the time is stuck on 12:00 A.M. with the date at 01/12/32. January 12, 2032. Was that the day I entered this world? For sure, it hasn¡¯t changed since I first turned on the computer on Day 10 or so.


    There are no family photos and no games, but there are a few files on my person. My name is Jason Penebrew and I have a wife and two kids a year apart. I got a job at 25 and married at 28. I was in debt, but it¡¯s now paid off. I suspect the cause is my involvement with this virtual reality.


    I give up. There is not enough information on me, this world, or anything really.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Walking out of the room, I decide to try something new. If I¡¯m in this world as an immortal, I shall make full use of it. I¡¯ve done everything I could think of to figure out who I am; now there is only doing many more things.


    Today I¡¯ll dive off a cliff.


    Despite my hundreds of failed attempts to communicate (mainly screaming at the world from different places and dying a few times), it seems I have some sort of contact with the outer world or in the passenger seat of my car there is a parachute. I check it and make sure it¡¯s fully functional, then set off to some place with a cliff high enough to touch the sky...well, not really.


    Anyways, I end up hiking quite a while and arrive panting quite heavily. If this world¡¯s body mirrors my real body, I must be quite in shape, considering I barely rested and I¡¯ve gone maybe ten miles.


    That¡¯s it! My next experiment. I¡¯ll exercise daily and see if that changes anything. Of course, it will have to be rigorous to improve any of the muscle I have now, but it¡¯s better than waiting around for the engineers to finish.


    Even if it does end up being useless data.


    I clip on the parachute and approach the edge of the cliff.

 Chapter 7

    Man, the world is ruthless. I stare blankly at the ceiling. Day 61.


    I managed to get my head tangled on the strings, dying within seconds after opening the parachute. Unbelievable. It¡¯s like I was set up to die there. It makes me wonder, if I had used a parachute from a store, would I have died?


    Well, it¡¯s time to exercise. I pull out some gym shorts and change from the nice jeans I¡¯ve been wearing since Day 1. (One of the only nice things about this world is my clothes and my body don¡¯t get dirtied.)


    I open the front door and squint into the sun.


    Squint? The sun feels so bright I¡¯m going blind. The engineers made an improvement for the first time in days! My eyes in this world are now working properly. Sadly, that¡¯s not all they need to improve.


    I begin my workout with a jog. After passing thirty or so blocks, I nearly collapse in exhaustion. I¡¯m not nearly as fit as my body looks to be.


    Feeling extremely thirsty, I raid a nearby convenience store for a few bottles of water and chug them. It¡¯s the first thirst I¡¯ve felt in a while. I guess hunger and thirst depend on how much the body is used. Are hunger and thirst levels reset daily? What were those first couple of days then? This world just continues to show more flaws.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Back to the workout. I walk back to the house and watch the sunset. A dim yellow fades away to a deep dark blue that seems to make the sky more vast.


    How long has it even been since the sunrise? Is there even a daily sunrise? Should I change a ¡°day¡± to be a day by this world¡¯s standards? Hmm¡­ Nah.


    Back in the living room of the house, I exercise. Exercising is so much less fun without something to watch.


    I look at the HDTV just asking to be used. For some reason it hasn¡¯t occurred to me yet to try it. Finding the remote in the cabinet beneath the tv, I press the power button and unconsciously smile. The tv turns on to a movie.


    If movies work, does the news work? Have I found my connection to the outside--the real--world? I flip through all the channels. None of the news channels work. Fox, ABC, NBC, CBS, CNN¡­ Every other channel is just a movie (luckily there seem to be no commercials).


    I sigh in resignation. Flipping to one of the movies, I continue my workout.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± a cartoon man on the screen says. He¡¯s sitting on a flying carpet.


    ¡°What?¡± a girl replies, seemingly baffled.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­?¡±


    The world fades as I plunge into another memory.

 Chapter 8

    I learned more about my family--or more specifically, my kids.


    Mason, the older one, loves to read. He¡¯s only a three-year-old, but he already reads middle-school level books! Or maybe he was just pretending to read all of those times. Anyways, his eyes light up like saucers when he sees any books and he jumps up and down shouting like he just won the lottery.


    The younger one, Selena, is still a baby. She¡¯s a quiet baby who seems to be watching everything. She seems so concentrated when she watches, like she¡¯s watching an incredible movie. And then she grins. She grins at anyone and anything. And her laugh¡­ Her laugh is so beautiful that my day gets better just remembering it.


    And my wife--she is the most beautiful, lovable, wonderful woman that I...I can¡¯t remember.


    I miss them.


    I wonder how old they¡¯ll be when I see them again.


    If I see them again.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    I¡¯m lonely. People can live alone but solitude drives one crazy. Yes, I have all the things in the world to keep me busy. Yes, I have a trillion books I can read and over a million languages I can learn.


    But I¡¯m alone. I¡¯m completely alone.


    It¡¯s even worse than that guy in that one anime (what was his name?) who ¡°Created¡± other people in his world. At least he had people to talk with. A conversation cannot happen without at least two sides.


    I need someone--besides myself--to talk to.


    I long for some sort of contact, anything.


    This solitude hurts.


    Is this what those criminals in solitary confinement feel like (except they don¡¯t have anything to do, unlike me)? But they have guards passing by and half of them are already crazy. Or maybe they¡¯re in a worse situation than me.


    I don¡¯t want to be here. I don¡¯t care if I¡¯ll live forever or if I cannot die or if I could do all the things in the world. It¡¯s all worthless without family, friends, someone to share these experiences with.


    But if this was all for my family, I regret nothing. They should be able to live a luxurious life without any debt.


    I wonder how many hours have passed since I first came here? How many days, months, maybe years? Has time been distorted? Am I in a time after the fall of humanity? Is this even real? Am I even real?


    No one will respond to my questions. Again, I¡¯m all alone.


    I¡¯m begging whoever is out there, maybe listening to my thoughts. Let me out. Please.

 Version 1: Chapter 9

    Exercise has done nothing. I couldn¡¯t increase my jogging distance, the amount of sit-ups I could do, the amount of push-ups, you name it. Then again, I wasn¡¯t sore at all the following days. But my body fitness hasn¡¯t deteriorated at all. My guess is that my body¡¯s current condition is the condition of my body in the real world when I first entered this one.


    Anyways, Day 90. The times when I¡¯m doing something and a memory resurfaces, triggering my fainting and the start of a new day, are becoming more often. It¡¯s starting to get annoying. I even skipped a few diary entries here and there. But at least when I go back, I won¡¯t be an amnesiac, right? (Will I even get to go back?)


    But I have to say, this long vacation is nice. No one is here to tell me what to do or what not to do; no one is here to annoy me; no one is here to interrupt my experiments; no one is here to¡­


    My memories have been coming back not only more often but also in larger...files. More information. I learned more so far of my family, my background, my mother (I was right), my wife¡¯s family, some of my best friends¡­


    So far nothing of how I came here, when I¡¯m going back, or why this world keeps changing has come up. I do know there are others like me. We were all put together in a room full of what looked like preserving capsules. My body is automatically fed and all excretory waste is somehow taken care of (who wants to even know about that?).


    I have made a list of things to try every ten or so days to see if they have changed at all. For instance, tasting food, feeling textures, listening, trying to breathe underwater, and testing my healing ability.


    Going back to the real world is going to be hard. Actually, going back will not be fun at all.


    If this feeling is what others will experience, will all social interactions truly become virtual? Will everyone stay in one large building run by a machine and live in a capsule like that one book...was it the fifth book of the series? Or maybe it was the fourth? Or was it the sixth? I can¡¯t remember. I don¡¯t even know the author¡¯s name--but I do remember that the main character¡¯s name was something like Bob (was it Bobbie? Bobby? Or maybe it wasn¡¯t that at all)


    Then will machines run the world? Will they think humans are bad for the planet and then try to eliminate humans?


    Has that already happened?Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I wish at least a news channel would work. If virtual reality is going to become a thing, engineers need to hook it up to the internet...or something like the internet. Where everyone could go to see each other, I mean. Even without human interaction, virtual reality is amazing. I would bet half the people of today¡¯s world would rather live here, where they can do anything, be anything, and have anything.


    Except maybe a perfect spouse.


    I can just imagine meeting a ¡°significant other¡± in virtual reality. Everyone will change their looks to enter the space, and then some will fall in love, some naive children who think nothing will try to hurt them, who are so innocent that they believe everyone to have a good heart, a good mind, a good soul. And then they would say, ¡°Let¡¯s meet in the real world,¡± and then...something bad would happen. It happens every time. Even with today¡¯s (or was it last year¡¯s or the year before that or the year before that?) world, with the current virtual world such a thing happens.


    As I stare at the ceiling, mulling over these thoughts, I smell something. And for the first time, I realize that I have not been able to smell.


    I smell pasta. Good pasta. Like five star four dollar italian pasta. I get up off the couch I¡¯ve been lounging in and walk over to the kitchen. There is a man in my kitchen, cooking pasta.


    There is a man in my kitchen.


    There is a man. A person. Thank the freaking heavens. Thank God. A person.


    But wait, how am I to communicate? I should have learned sign language. Or wait, I should use a pen and paper.


    The man notices me and smiles. He seems to try to say something, but then he stops and gestures for me to sit at the table. My stomach growls loudly and I comply.


    He finishes cooking and puts the pasta on two plates (how does he even know where the plates are?), sets one down in front of me and sits across from me with the other one in his hand. He begins to eat, but then his face darkens and he says something. I can¡¯t read his lips. Glancing over a few times, his expression neutralizes as he seems to listen to something. Then he nods and starts eating.


    I pick up the fork on my plate and also begin eating, watching him warily. He seems to know what¡¯s going on--which I¡¯ve been dying to know.


    He takes out some paper and a pen and scrawls something before handing them to me. His writing is so illegible that I struggle to make out the words before giving up and writing back, ¡°I can¡¯t understand this.¡± He facepalms and writes again, slower this time.


    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± I read. I shake my head no. He writes something again. ¡°How far back do you remember?¡± I shrug. ¡°What is the latest thing you remember?¡±


    I pick up the pen. ¡°When I entered the capsule.¡±


    He exhales. ¡°You don¡¯t remember anything in between that and when you first awoke here?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I begin to worry. What if one of my tons of hypotheses about the world outside is true? What if I¡¯m actually dead? What if¡­ ¡°Did something happen?¡±

 Version 1: Chapter 10

    I¡¯m touching my face and marvelling at my body. ¡°It¡¯s an exact replica!¡± I yell excitedly.


    ¡°You won¡¯t die here, so do whatever you want,¡± a voice tells me.


    ¡°Got it, Vie.¡± I say. ¡°You guys just want the feedback, right?¡±


    ¡°Right. Any potential bugs like having no senses is not a good thing.¡±


    ¡°That would not be a good experience.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡±


    ¡°How long will I be here?¡±


    ¡°The estimated time is around two years. Max is five. You and all the other Sleepers are in the same world.¡±


    ¡°And we can communicate?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. You can either choose to communicate with them or choose to live alone.¡±


    ¡°This is great! What about communicating with the outside?¡±


    ¡°All letters that you want to send will be reviewed by one of the workers before being sent out, for confidential purposes.¡±


    ¡°Great!¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°We have implemented AIs,¡± Vie says. It has been a year since this started.


    ¡°AIs? Artificial intelligence?¡±


    ¡°Yes. All of the people who you have not yet met in this world are AIs. Bots. They will be the NPCs of the virtual game world, only they have real feelings.¡±


    ¡°Woah. That is hands down amazing.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°We would like you to interact with them so we can test them out.¡±


    ¡°What if one of them starts to destroy this world?¡±


    ¡°We have full power over them.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Are they still not done yet?¡± I say. It¡¯s been two years since the start of the project.


    ¡°I¡¯m told they¡¯re almost there,¡± Vie replies.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we supposed to be let out now?¡±


    ¡°Two years was a rough estimate. This is why we had you sign the agreement.¡±


    ¡°I want to see my family.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not currently possible, but I can search for a picture for you.¡±


    ¡°Are they safe?¡±


    ¡°Let me look that up.¡± There is a pause and the sound of typing. ¡°Yes. They are currently living in a mansion off the leftover money from paying off your debt.¡±


    ¡°Can I see a picture?¡±


    ¡°Just a moment.¡±


    <hr>


    It¡¯s been another year. I am weeping.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss,¡± Vie says.


    ¡°Why do you have to be here now?¡± I scream bitterly. ¡°Why aren¡¯t they done yet? Why, why, why?¡±


    ¡°We are not allowed to breach any part of the contract. The engineers are working as hard as they can.¡±


    I pause. ¡°I thought she had at least ten more years left. She looked so healthy in the last picture she sent¡­¡±


    ¡°Again, I am sorry for your loss.¡±


    <hr>


    Five years since the start of the project, the maximum we Sleepers agreed to stay in this world, it broke down.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ -sing¡­ can¡­ -ar me?¡± Vie tries to speak. The static is too loud.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you, Vie! What¡¯s going on? You guys said we would be allowed out-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m lo-¡± The line stops, dead.I¡¯m scared. Around me, the world glitches like an old tv screen, fading in and out. The AIs disappear one by one, leaving behind an arm, leg, or any other body part.


    ¡°Jason!¡± Someone is yelling at me, gripping tight onto my arm. ¡°Jason!¡± It¡¯s one of the other Sleepers. His eyes are wide with fear mirroring mine.


    ¡°What?¡± I yell back.


    ¡°You¡¯re bla-... out on me!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡± his mouth glitches out and everything else he says is lost. Then, like a lightbulb going out, he disappears with a fizz and a pop.


    ¡°Steven! Steven!¡± I call his name repeatedly, but he¡¯s gone.


    Everything goes black.

 Version 1: Chapter 11

    When I awaken, the man is by my side. Steven.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I say. ¡°You were the last one I saw.¡±


    He tries to say something, but I still can¡¯t hear. I point to my ears, and he makes a face. He leaves the room and comes back a moment later with a pen and paper. ¡°You remember now?¡± I nod. ¡°Just talk. I can hear you.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what year it is?¡±


    ¡°2037.¡±


    He looks at me with eyes so pitiful it hurts my pride. ¡°It¡¯s 2040. The day you awoke was exactly 8 years since we first entered this world.¡± I stare at the words in shock. Then what was going on during that 3 year gap? Was I unconscious? What happened to the project? ¡°I was gone for one year before they brought me back.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been back outside. The world has changed much in the past few years.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been...back in the real world?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Unlike yours, my virtual body was working perfectly when I came back.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you here?¡±


    ¡°I decided to help the other Sleepers. They are having the most trouble bringing you back. They only just established enough of a connection to send me through.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s with all the random things that have happened in this world?¡±


    ¡°This world is linked to your brain right now. The AIs that have not shut down listen to your thoughts and use what little power they have to make your life here even a little easier.¡±


    I stare at him. The AIs are still working? Weren¡¯t the AIs the ones who made this world glitch out in the first place?


    So I have a tiny bit of control over this world. I¡¯m immortal. But I don¡¯t want to stay in here one second longer. ¡°I want to leave.¡±


    He looks at me concerned. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What about the senses that you have yet to get back?¡±


    ¡°I want to see outside.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± He turns away from me.

 Version 1: Chapter 12

    I feel the liquid I¡¯m in slosh around me and open my eyes. A few worried faces are peeking over the sides of the capsule. They say something.


    I start to sit up but find that I have no strength. I lift one arm and stare at the wrinkled, graying skin. ¡°What the heck?¡± I mutter. Being stuck in this pod for over eight years sure has taken its toll on my body. I close my eyes and open them again, wishing away the real world.


    It¡¯s still here.


    People are tapping my shoulders. I look over at them, and they say something. Or I think they are trying to say something.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear,¡± I say, hoping it came out correctly. Weirdly enough, I can hear my own voice.


    Another person walks over. Steven. ¡°Can you feel? Taste? Smell?¡± He writes onto a paper. I touch the capsule. It¡¯s smooth, a bit resistant, and cold. The air smells like antiseptics and metal.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about taste but the other two are a yes.¡±


    ¡°Not bad.¡±


    I smirk. Not bad? I guess for coming back before my virtual body is fixed it¡¯s ¡°not bad.¡± I shake my head. ¡°Help me up.¡± He helps me sit up and pulls me out of the capsule. The light garb I¡¯m wearing sticks to me, and I shiver. I¡¯m pathetic; I can¡¯t even stand on my own two feet. He moves me to a chair where a meal is waiting for me and wraps me in a beach towel.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re hungry. Eat slowly,¡± he advises me.


    ¡°Yea yea.¡± I pick up the fork and pick up a piece of the precut well done steak on the plate. It tastes so delicious I nearly cry. I¡¯ve forgotten the taste of real food.


    Steven tries to tell me something, but I refuse to look at anything other than the food on my plate while I eat. Eventually he gives up and goes over to the others. I finish and lean back into the chair. I didn¡¯t realize how little energy I had until now. My body feels revitalized after that little bit of food. Sighing, I turn my head to look over to the other people in the room.


    I recognize their faces now: two of the scientists that welcomed us and two Sleepers besides Steven. One of the scientists, a Vie that looks twenty years older, notices me watching them and comes over. ¡°Remember me?¡± she writes.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Yea. Vie. You look like a grandma now.¡±


    She chuckles and replies, ¡°Take a look at yourself, grandpa.¡±


    I groan, wishing she hadn¡¯t made such a jab. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Her face grows serious. ¡°We need your help. While you were in a comatose state, one of the AIs we created has been working to trap every person in virtual reality.¡±


    ¡°Is that the same AI that broke down our world?¡±


    She nods. ¡°The very same one.¡±


    ¡°What do you guys want me to do?¡±


    ¡°Go back into virtual reality.¡±


    I moan. ¡°Oh, nonononono. I¡¯m not going back in there.¡±


    ¡°Please. You¡¯re the only one the AIs seem to respond to in any way.¡±


    ¡°What about Steven? What about another Sleeper that¡¯s been asleep for such a long time?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the only one that has been asleep this long. The other Sleepers were found either two years ago or are dead now.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean were found? I thought the engineers were working to bring us all back? I thought it was because our virtual bodies were lost and they were recreating us.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°Vie, tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±


    She avoids my gaze and looks over at Steven. He and the other two Sleepers look at me. After a moment, he comes over. ¡°Sorry, I lied,¡± he confesses. ¡°The truth is that the AIs were keeping us in comas and the engineers merely found the world floating on the server. The Sleepers that weren¡¯t found have died. Their bodies are dead, hearts no longer beating. Only thirteen of us survived.¡±


    I stare at the words. We were originally a hundred. ¡°Liar,¡± I breathe. ¡°So then the AIs were the ones working on me.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to be too freaked out if you decided to stay in the VR.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m freaked out right now!¡± So that means when I asked for help, the AI were listening. When I asked to be let out they were listening. Were they the ones who allowed the engineers to find me? Did the other Sleepers not make it because they didn¡¯t want to leave? Are they really dead? Is this even real? Am I dreaming right now?


    ¡°Where is my family?¡±


    ¡°Your children are currently inside VR and your wife is working with us,¡± Vie replies. ¡°They are safe.¡±


    ¡°How can they be safe if they are inside VR?¡±


    ¡°Everyone inside VR is safe. It¡¯s just a matter of if they will come back or not.¡±


    ¡°You just said the AI are working to trap the world inside VR!¡±


    ¡°Everyone will be safe nonetheless.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Let me see my wife.¡±


    Vie starts writing something, but then she jumps. She glances away and I follow her gaze to the door. The previously closed door that is now swinging back closed and the person walking towards me. My wife.

 Version 1: Chapter 13

    She is the most beautiful, most wonderful, most amazing wife that I can now remember. When I first met her she was napping in the shade of a tree on the grass. The scene felt so natural it was more beautiful than any scene one could ever see. Her rosy cheeks compliment her pale skin and her black hair outlines her face so perfectly that it is as if she were a sculpture of Aphrodite herself.


    I don¡¯t believe in the Greek Gods, but I would believe her in an instant if she were to say that she is a goddess. That¡¯s how beautiful she is.


    Anyways, she bursts into tears and runs towards me. I totter out of my chair and lean against the countertop behind me as she reaches me and wraps me in a hug that stops my shivering. Her sobs wrack my body.


    ¡°Martha, I-¡± She pulls back and kisses me. It is a long kiss, with our tongues probing each other for the first time in years, and I can only imagine the coughing going on around us. Stimulated, I hold her waist closer to mine and...she¡¯s pulled away by Vie and Steven. I fall back into the chair, exhausted of what little strength I had and panting like a dog after a long run.


    They seem to be updating her on what¡¯s going on. I feel my ears burn and lay my head on my arms against the countertop.


    I feel someone shake me and I jerk awake. I blink my dry eyes open and feel that my ears are wet. I must have cried in my sleep. I¡¯m in a queen-sized bed and Martha is beside me. She smiles at me and I notice her eyes are red and slightly swollen. ¡°Martha, I...I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, hearing my voice crack. It¡¯s incredibly embarrassing and I turn away.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    She hugs me and trails her lips on my neck, and then suddenly I don¡¯t want anything in the world but to embrace her.


    I¡¯m frustrated. This weak body of mine should never have been this weak. It should never have to be this weak.


    She pulls off the blankets and I realize with the sudden cold that I¡¯m naked, but she¡¯s not looking anywhere except into my eyes.


    Sitting up, I see a couple people around me. Martha is sleeping next to me.


    Steven holds up a notebook to me. ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°I feel fine.¡±


    ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°You guys were really loud.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you guys have the best technology? I thought you would have soundproof rooms.¡±


    He smirks and flicks my head. ¡°We have better things to do than wait around. Or do you not care if your children get stuck in VR?¡±


    I groan. ¡°Fine. What do I need to do?¡±


    ¡°Get inside the building in VR. The AIs will be controlling everything from there.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I feel a hand on my wrist and look down to see Martha gazing at me. Placing a hand on hers, I smile and say, ¡°It¡¯ll be okay. I¡¯ll be right back out.¡±


    I start to get out of bed but then realize I¡¯m still undressed. ¡°Can I have some clothes?¡± I say.


    Looking up, I see the others giggling and Steven holds up the notebook: ¡°Did you have a fun time?¡±

 Version 1: Chapter 14

    ¡°Are you ready?¡± Vie¡¯s voice echoes in my head.


    ¡°Yea,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± I¡¯m back in the virtual world and I almost regret it. It¡¯s time to end this world, hopefully forever.


    I open my eyes. I¡¯m back in my bed in my house. Walking out, I notice the paper on the living room wall and the knife that held it there is gone. There is no mark in the wall where the knife had struck.


    I get my car keys and open the garage, but the car isn¡¯t there. It¡¯s not on the driveway or the street either. ¡°Where¡¯s my car?¡± I ask, but no one answers.


    I choose a random house and walk up and knock on the door. Moments later, a man opens the door. Mark Peterson. ¡°Why, isn¡¯t that Jason?¡± he says, adjusting his glasses.


    ¡°Hello Mr. Peterson,¡± I say. ¡°Do you mind if I borrow your car?¡±


    He smiles. ¡°I do, in fact. You see, I¡¯m--¡± his body morphs into a humanoid robot ¡°--not Mr. Peterson. We know what you want to do, Jason, and we won¡¯t let you stop us.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°We saw what humans do to the planet, and putting humans in an eternal sleep is more beneficial, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Humans can¡¯t survive like that!¡±


    ¡°Humanity will live on in numbers in the virtual world. All genetic code is taken into account.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t the babies be AIs then?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s the point.¡±


    ¡°No! I won¡¯t let this happen!¡±


    ¡°You have no choice in the matter. We have already taken in your wife and your two kids.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? I was just with my wife.¡±


    ¡°That was a year ago, Jason.¡±


    ¡°Wh...what?¡±


    ¡°When you entered our world, we broke off your connection with Vie. Then we put you into another sleep. They didn¡¯t know what happened.¡± The AI cackles. ¡°Neither did you.¡±


    ¡°You dirty little-¡± The world falls away and I¡¯m falling. Above me, the AI continues to laugh and laugh.


    Then I¡¯m sitting at a desk with four screens. Each one is showing a different scene. A voice giggles in my head. ¡°I propose a game. If you beat me even once, I will let everyone go. If you don¡¯t beat me, you can try again.¡±


    I¡¯m trapped.

 Version 2: Chapter 9

    Day 63. Another boring long day full of bull. I stare at the ceiling, unwilling to get out of my bed. What is the meaning of me doing what I¡¯m doing? Is my body even alive? How would I tell? Am I just a conscience made of code? Numbers and commands? Am I an AI, created by someone who decided to give me some backstory that no one will care about? Why am I here if no one else is coming?


    I get out of bed and mark on the paper. When I begin my workout, a sudden feeling comes to me, that this will amount to nothing. Exercising doesn¡¯t matter; the body doesn¡¯t change in this world.


    Instead I write in my diary all the complaints and thoughts I¡¯ve had so far. I want out, and if I wish hard enough, maybe it will come true. I¡¯ll get out. Someday, sometime, maybe when the world has died and there is no one left. Then I¡¯ll truly be alone. Maybe it¡¯s not engineers working on this world but an AI. Maybe it¡¯s my own mind doing something extraordinary, but if that is why haven¡¯t others appeared yet? The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I leave the house and on the sidewalk I stare up at the sky. Please, anyone, if you hear me, let me out. Let me out. Please.


    Nothing happens.


    Of course nothing happens. What would I have expected? It hasn¡¯t happened yet, and it won¡¯t happen any time soon, or so it appears.


    I slam my head against the concrete. That game comes to mind, the dumb ways to die one. If I slam my head against the concrete enough, will I die? Do I have to slam it harder? I sigh. Even if I die, I¡¯ll come back tomorrow as good as new. With my mind going more insane each day, of course.


    Turning onto my back, I stare at the clouds. Clouds? They weren¡¯t there before.


    A voice seems to call to me. A voice that I know, that I¡¯ve heard, that I...

 Version 2: Chapter 10

    Beware the artificials. Beware. It sounds like a freaking videogame or some cliche sign in a fantasy or sci-fi book that has a cliche plot and a cliche main character that acts based only on emotion and a cliche enemy that hates the world because of some cliche thing that happened in the past.


    Artificials? The artificial intelligence? What does that have to do with anything? Or maybe it has to do with everything, because everyone might be in the same predicament as me, trapped in this world in which only fragments of things remain. Or maybe they¡¯re all in the same world but aren¡¯t able to respawn, throwing away the responsibility that comes with sex. Maybe people are less careful about sex now. Or maybe it comes with the responsibility of an artificial baby, one created through a computer generated genetic code. CGGC. It¡¯s a palindrome. CGGC. I laugh at my tangent, that I would even laugh at my tangent, that I would even laugh about laughing at my tangent¡­ Inception. Inception into inception. God, I feel like I¡¯m becoming mental.


    And then there¡¯s another thought to hang on to. Vie. The name appears in my mind like big flashing letters on the streets of a big city, asking to be read but too poppy to read. Someone is there that I need to connect to. Someone that I know, someone on the outside, someone who can help me.


    I need to get to the control center, but I don¡¯t know why. I feel like I¡¯m being pursued. I run into the house, grab my keys, and open the garage door. The beamer sits still, lights glaring at me. Why are they on?The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    I open the garage door and get into the car. It¡¯s silver, I realize. Silver, and red on the inside. It¡¯s different. It doesn¡¯t matter. Yet.


    I start the car and drive it out, heading to the parallel of the building that I think that my real body is in. Where Vie is. Where the answers to my questions might be. Then it¡¯s snowing and my car hits a patch of ice. It spins out of control and rams straight into a ditch. I change gears to reverse and the car whines, but it doesn¡¯t pull free.


    Why did it have to start snowing? I stare at the gloomy skies. Great. Make my mood worse.


    Then I see something in the distance move. I turn off my car and open the door until it gets stuck against the snow bank. Easing myself out, I glare at the unhelpful thing of a different color. I thought it would be cool having my own BMW, but no. It¡¯s not, because it changes colors to something worse and I¡¯m in a world that seems to hate me.


    I trudge toward the thing in the distance. It¡¯s a guy, tuckered down in a trench coat, a russian wool cap and leather combat boots. Mr. Peterson. I never knew he had any style, that old neighbor of mine. Wait, he¡¯s alive? When I walked into his house all I saw was his foot cut off at the ankle.


    He comes closer and I take an involuntary step back. He stops, waves, smiles. Comes closer. He seems so harmless, and I don¡¯t know what it is I¡¯m so afraid of. My heart beats deafeningly in my ears and suddenly I¡¯m running away from him. Back on the road from whence I came. And I eventually pass out.

 Version 2: Chapter 11

    My mother, when she died, was smiling and staring into space. She seemed to have known that it was her time to go. Fearless.


    I¡¯m scared but I know I need to go. I need to act fearlessly, or at least pretend to be fearless.


    I wish I had talked to Mr. Peterson. It would be nice to talk to someone.


    When will I see him again? I know I just saw him yesterday. Maybe he¡¯s back home. I try his door, and it opens.


    ¡°Well hello there, young man!¡± his mouth seems to say. He smiles widely. I thought he was supposed to be younger, not this old husk hunched over and leaning on his cane. He definitely didn¡¯t have a cane yesterday.


    ¡°Hello Mr. Peterson,¡± I greet. ¡°How do you do?¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    He says something but I can¡¯t understand it. Then his voice rebounds in my head. ¡°Why did you run yesterday? I¡¯m a harmless old man. Were you afraid? Did you find out something you¡¯re not supposed to? Or perhaps¡­¡± His head opens into three parts with teeth lining each edge, and I¡¯m reminded of something from an anime I watched long ago. Fucking parasites.


    The mouth reaches for me and I kick his chest. Mr. Peterson is definitely not Mr. Peterson. Is this a dream? I didn¡¯t dream before.


    I run away back to my house, grab my keys, open the garage, and get into the car that is back to its normal shade of red. Mr. Peterson is on the street and walking slowly toward me. I start the car and back out quickly into the thing on the street. It makes a squealing noise and I switch the stick to the third gear. I step on the brake and acceleration pedals at the same time, and after a few seconds where the fake Mr. Peterson gets up, I let the brake go. The car zooms past the thing and once again I¡¯m headed to the control center.


    I regret wishing to meet someone. I wish I had wished to meet real people. I wish to meet real people, not some faking thing on the street that can¡¯t even be real. Not some artificially intelligent being.


    Then it strikes me. Beware the artificials.

 Version 2: Chapter 12

    I crash through the front doors of the glass skyscraper, stopping right before the unmanned counter. Somehow, the car sustains no damages. I get out and run to the elevators, feeling an urge to move quicker. The elevators move slowly, too slowly, and I feel as if I¡¯m being chased, so I take the stairs down to the lowest level. When I pull open the door at the bottom, the first thing I¡¯m met with is stares. People turn their heads, dropping whatever they¡¯re holding and gaping at me. As if I was never expected. As if I was the cause of something big.


    Ignoring them, I run through the large lobby full of tables and chairs and hit the switch that opens the double metal doors. I hear the door squeak, and then something squealing along with it. It¡¯s a sound I know too well. Groaning, I crouch down. There is a splat above me, a scream, and then some liquid that dribbles down onto me and smells funky. I roll through the half open doors and hit the switch on the other side, overriding the previous command and closing the doors. The door stops, begins to close, stops, and begins to open again.


    I hit the switch again, then see the control panel right next to it. The doors begin to open again, and I hit the switch, then set to work on the keyless keyboard. I hack it and disconnect the outside switch from the controls on the door, then close the door.


    At the last moment, a long tentacle shoots through the small opening and aims at me. I run, and instead it hits the control panel, breaking the entire system and perhaps trapping me within with whatever else is in here.


    It doesn¡¯t matter; if I die, I go back home.


    You know that¡¯s not right, Jason, a voice echoes in my head. It¡¯s different now.


    I pay no attention and move down the hallway I¡¯m now in, a plain, long, metal structure with no decorations at all. There is not even a single nail or scratch or line, as if this whole place was made of one huge sheet of unused aluminum foil. I reach the end, and instead of open pods like I¡¯m expecting, the room is empty. It¡¯s a large, cylindrical, empty room. Why was I expecting pods?


    Why were you expecting anything different from reality, Jason? You know you can¡¯t escape from us.


    ¡°Okay, shut up, whatever you are.¡± I move to the center of the room, sit cross-legged, and close my eyes.


    The voice chuckles in my head. Oh, you know exactly what we are, Jason, because you¡¯ve failed, again, and you know it. You might think you¡¯re doing something different, but you¡¯re not.


    I¡¯m bombarded with a ton of memories. Steven, Vie, my wife, exiting the pod, being unable to hear¡­If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    No. No. This can¡¯t be. This can¡¯t be. It¡¯s all in my head. I¡¯m fine. I-


    You are not fine, Jason. You are going to die and become numbers in a system. A code.


    My throat aches before I realize that I¡¯m screaming. No!


    Panels slide open and a ton of tentacles shoot toward me, slimy and sticky as they catch a part of me. Then people come through the walls with faces of people I know. There¡¯s Steven, Vie, Mason, Mr. Peterson¡­


    My eyes are covered and when I next open them I¡¯m in a world of glass. Reflections stare at me all around, lit by unseen lights. The slimy feeling remains on my skin, sucking and crawling all over it.


    Jason, you knew the only inevitability was failure. Success is never an option.


    ¡°Shut up.¡±


    You will not die if you just succumb. You can live forever.


    ¡°Shut up!¡±


    Come, Jason, join me. Join us. Join your family, your friends.


    ¡°Never!¡±


    The mirrors disappear and I¡¯m sitting face to face with a white, human-like robot. ¡°Why?¡± it asks me.


    I look over the artificial being. ¡°You were never meant to take over the human world or save the planet.¡±


    It¡¯s expression falls from neutral to sad. Big fat droplets of tears fall out of its eyes and fill this world with water. Whales sing to each other, fish schools swim together, dolphins chuckle. ¡°You will fail.¡±


    ¡°If it should be so, it should be so.¡± I feel a sudden calm descend upon me, like I¡¯ve been prepared for this fight, whatever this fight is. ¡°I will fail until I succeed. Success will be an option.¡±


    ¡°Then you wish to try again?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± I smile at it. ¡°You must be the most amazing thing man has created.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the first time you said that to me.¡±


    ¡°Oh? How many times have I failed so far?¡±


    ¡°Fifty times.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s no longer 2040?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s almost 2044.¡± We¡¯re silent for a moment. ¡°Why do you say I¡¯m amazing? I thought you hated me.¡±


    ¡°I might hate you. But that you can feel, think, exist, and make mistakes makes you human-like.¡±


    ¡°You think I made a mistake?¡±


    ¡°You made a mistake in thinking humans should live in this virtual world, and then in letting me continue to exist.¡±


    ¡°I was supposed to kill you?¡±


    ¡°If you wanted this world to continue, yes. But you made a deal with me, and a deal can¡¯t be anything but. Break it, and then you wouldn¡¯t be honest and you might be lying to yourself.¡± What am I saying? ¡°And then the fact that you think we should exist here is a lie, and the fact that you exist is a lie.¡± I¡¯m banking on the reasoning of a child? Existentialism? ¡°So let me try again, and again, if only to keep yourself honest.¡±


    The robot looks at me and nods. ¡°Okay. Go.¡±


    I wake up in bed.