The Last Dream of Aurora

My name is Aurora and in six months I am going to die.

I knew this because I paid for the privilege. You could do testing for anything nowadays, and apparently your expiration date was one of them. Some advanced quantum computational technology, able to analyze the lifespan and health probability of every living cell in the body. And all it took was a small finger prick.

Unfortunately for me, my impending death would not be filled with tearful reminiscing. Oh sure, my funeral would be packed, but nobody would miss me, not really. As an orphaned twenty-two year old who inherited way too much money at an early age, not only was I probably a bit of a spoiled brat, I also haven’t really lived yet.

Truth be told, it was difficult to make friends, real friends, when you have money. Despite my painfully privileged upbringing, or perhaps because of it, I had this unshakable feeling that I was missing something. All my life I couldn’t figure out what it was. Finding my purpose? Falling in love? I truly didn’t know. It was a puzzle, and I was missing an important piece.

Hence, slowly but surely, I became increasingly obsessed with avoiding death.

In my stubborn mind, it seemed doable. I had it all planned out. I would eat only soft non-chokable foods, pad all sharp corners, and only sleep on the first floor to avoid precarious slips and falls from ladders. I would eat clean and healthy and avoid driving altogether. No more rowdy parties with questionable substances and equally questionable people. Unfortunately the test couldn't legally disclose the cause of death, just the exact day, so other than putting myself in a bubble, I couldn’t really plan in specifics.

All I knew for certain was I needed more time.

Briar Rose Research Center was where I met Philip. It was a state of the art clinical research facility where the rich came to die. Or live, if they were lucky.

The center was founded by sisters Flora and Fauna Merryweather, both Nobel Prize winners in their respective fields, both eccentric geniuses and slightly mad. Flora, pioneer of medicine and biosynthetics, Fauna, quantum physics and computing. Briar Rose was the only place to be for someone like me.

Philip was one of the center’s few full time residents. Twenty-seven years old and he had end-stage heart failure from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. He described it as his heart being too big, literally, but I suspect it was also true figuratively. And no, surprisingly, he did not have any wisdom to impart about acceptance and healing and the meaning of life. He was not okay with his life being cut short, thank you very much.

He did have some useful information for me though.

“It’s quite experimental.” Philip warned, his brown eyes unreadable as his automated hoverchair pulled up next to me.

“Obviously.”

“They only treat terminal patients… you know, because of the ethical implications.” He eyed me warily, a slight crease between his brows. “There's usually a very long waiting list, most people don't even get to the center before their expiry dates. But in your case, because I talked to them, and well, you know who my father is… they made an exception.”

I nodded. Philip's father was Hubert Lang, CEO of New Cyberia, the largest quantum computing corporation in the world. It had the per capita GDP of a small country. Needless to say, he was a multimillionaire, and Philip was a modern day prince.

“This is not some elaborate black market scam to harvest my organs, is it?” I raised an eyebrow at him, a half curl in my lips. “I mean, no offense, but you look like you could use a new heart.”

Philip had to grab his oxygen mask after laughing so hard at that one. As advanced as the current tech was, and even with all the money in the world at his disposal, the printed artificial hearts were simply no match for a well functioning human one. The nurse at the station gave us a stern look.

After Philip recovered he looked me in the eye. “How much do you have left?”

“Time? Or money?” I joked. The look on his face was not amused. I cleared my throat. “One month. And as you know, money is not an object.”

“Well, one month can give you… about a hundred years in virtual time. So pretty much a whole lifetime, if you decide on it.” Philip paused. “Once you jack in though, there’s no going back. Your clock will end as scheduled and that’s the only way out. Also, it’s totally immersive, so you won’t even know you’re in Virtual. It will be like… you’re in a dream but you don’t know you’re in a dream.”

“So I would really believe everything was real? Like I would grow up to be ninety years old and I would actually think I lived all those years even though really it would only be one month?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“How many of the other people will be real?”

“Most will be computer generated. You might meet some real ones, if they are in the same time dilation settings as you. There are very few people with the resources for a whole month, you know. Most people can only afford one day.”

“So there’s a chance that I will marry a program?” I frowned. “And then if we have kids, they will also be programs?”

Philip cocked an eyebrow. “There’s a high chance, statistically. Like I said, there’s only a few real participants at any given time. Not that it would matter to you, you won’t know the difference.”

I thought about this. I supposed it wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t know. I have always fantasized about becoming a mother.

Philip's expression suddenly turned serious. “There’s something else. It’s rare, but there are a few cases of people noticing little things not quite right in their world and they become increasingly convinced they’re in a simulation. Which of course is true, but when you’re jacked in and you’re not completely sure if you’re crazy or just being paranoid, it can be terrifying. They call it Simulation Induced Paranoia, or SIP.” He paused. “Participants become really…. distressed.”

I chewed on this for a second. “There’s no safe word?”

Philip shook his head. “You have to understand, the technology is designed for complete immersion, the knowledge of any kind of safe word or emergency exit would invariably take a participant out of the reality they are in. Think of it this way: Virtual is a one way ticket, once you’re in, there’s no coming back out.”

“I see.”

Philip stared at me for a beat then sighed. “The longer you’re in virtual, the higher the chance you might experience SIP. Remember, Aurora, a month is a lifetime. The chances are very low of course - less than 1%. But if you experience SIP, there’s no cure, you’re stuck until your clock runs out. It’s a risk every participant has to take.”

We were both silent for a moment.

“I still want to do it.” I said finally.

He looked surprised. “Really?”

“Philip, I’m going to die in a month anyway.” I replied. I regarded him curiously. “I’m surprised you are not doing it.”

Philip seemed to take this comment seriously. “I did consider it. It was offered to me. But my doctors still think there’s a good chance with the latest treatments they’re researching. The test -- the same test you took -- gave me inconclusive results. And my mother…” He let his words trail away.

I nodded in understanding. “You still have something to lose.”

“Yes.”

“And I don’t.”

Philip looked at his hands. I noticed his nail beds had a bluish tint, like his lips. “I don’t want to pressure you. But they have a long waiting list. You have to make a decision soon. I’m giving you my spot in line, a spot my father had to pull a lot of strings to get, but they’re not going to hold it for much longer.”

I mulled this over. It was true, I really had nothing left to lose. There was nobody in my life who cared enough to even talk me out of it. And talk me out of what, exactly? Of spending the few weeks I have left at a second chance at life? I was either going to die in a month without having really lived, or dream a hundred years in virtual time. What choice did I really have?

“Are you absolutely sure?” Philip asked.

“Yes.” I said resolutely. I realized then that I was always going to do it, the decision made the moment I pricked my finger. I reached out to hold Philip's hands, they were cold. “But I want to know if you are sure. If you give me your spot…”

“I might die before the next spot opens up, I know.” Philip closed his eyes and leaned back on his pillow. He was getting tired. This was around the time he needed his afternoon nap. “I knew when they offered me the spot that I didn’t want it, Aurora. The first person I thought of was you.”

“If you have any doubt at all, Philip...”

“Please, Aurora.” He opened his eyes to look at me. I could tell the act was a struggle. Still, he used up some effort to smile. “Think of it as a gift.”

~~~

Dr. Flora Merryweather was the one guiding me through the procedure. I was surprised the head of the clinical trial was the one to personally escort me to my pod, but Philip said this was the standard of care, to ensure everything went smoothly.

"Don't be afraid, Aurora." She crooned, reassuring. She had a pleasantly plump face, ruddy cheeks, and a voice that had the timber of a comforting lullaby. She was rumored to be almost eighty years old, but she didn’t look a day over forty to me. She seemed to envelope the room with a calming presence. "Just think of it like you're going to sleep."

"Right." I murmured thoughtfully as I let my head hit the pillow. It was soft and comfortable. A nurse had given me an oral sedative thirty minutes earlier and it was now taking effect. "I’m just going to sleep… for a hundred years."

"To dream, Aurora." Dr. Merryweather said in an amused tone as she hooked up a syringe to my intravenous line. "To dream for a hundred years.”

“Right.” The word slurred a little.

“Now, count backwards from one hundred for me.” Dr. Merryweather instructed gently, tinkering with a monitor by the head of my bed.

"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight..." My lids were becoming so heavy. "Ninety-seven, ninety six, ninety five, ninety-four, ninety..."

I closed my eyes. My own voice sounded far away. Then, there was quiet, and it was nice. It felt like my brain was swimming in a gray haze. It wasn't unpleasant.

Just as I was about to surrender to a drug-addled sleep, an electric current suddenly ran through my spine and I felt a deep stabbing sensation at the base of my skull. Something snapped.

Was that me screaming? I wasn't sure. What was that snap? Whatever it was felt important. Where was my body? I was suddenly certain that it was somehow no longer connected to me. It made me feel trapped. This couldn't be right, could it?

Then, blackness.

The unwelcome thought that I could have caused my own death in my extreme efforts to avoid it flitted through my mind.

Was this it? Was I going to be in this black void forever?

The dark seemed to stretch on to eternity.

"Aurora?"

I blinked twice. The room slowly came into focus.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.” A familiar voice.

It was Philip. But also, it was not Philip. He did not have his portable oxygen tank close by. His lips did not have their usual bluish hue. He looked… healthy.

Everything came back to me at once.

“Holy shit, Philip. That was nuts.” I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs. “That felt too real. I really felt like I was there for twenty-two years.” I checked my watch. I’ve only been in Virtual for twenty-two minutes.

He chuckled, swiveling back and forth on the expensive office chair I bought him for Christmas last year. My boyfriend never could sit still. “You’re a champ, Aurora, you were the one who wanted to push the time dilation to a year per minute. I was worried pushing it that far would compromise world building, but your mind was amazing at meeting the program halfway to fill in the gaps. You made yourself a rich orphan, really? Money is no object? Hah!”

I disconnected my Neurojack from the surgically implanted access port behind my right ear. That rich orphan stuff was my subconscious free at the wheel. I turned back to Philip. “I could have made myself a princess if I wanted. I'm actually disappointed I didn't go all out. By the way, why did you add all that stuff about Virtual in there, and SIP? Don’t you think that was a little too… meta?”

Philip suddenly broke into that grin that melted my heart so many years ago when we met during undergrad at MIT. “Well, since you wanted to put the expiry dates into the program so people would know how much time they had left, I thought, what the heck, why not make it interesting? Why not make a virtual game in Virtual?”

I was not amused. Philip had a penchant for bloated code and unnecessary side doors. Also, for not telling me about an adjustment until after he had done it. I glared at him. “That’s messed up. You should have run that by me. The expiry date was a suggestion from the beta testers and we all agreed on it. We didn’t agree on putting the game into the Virtual Universe as a side door.” I paused. “Also, what if I didn’t jack in? I would have died in a car accident or something?”

Philip turned back to his computer and typed a few lines of code. “I had carbon monoxide poisoning ready to go, but I was prepared to improvise. And anyway, I didn’t actually think you would gravitate towards the game during the beta test, I just put it in there as an Easter egg of sorts. I figured most clients would only think about jacking in when they were close to their expiry dates, if they do at all. But on second thought, maybe I should take it out of the programming, it’s too much work to keep up.”

I jumped off the table and stretched my legs. My entire body felt stiff like I haven’t used it for months. “Yea, take it out. You’ll have enough work as it is when we start accepting our first commercial clients next week. We have four people scheduled on our first day which I already think is too much.”

“We’ll be fine.” Philip was now typing more purposefully. “That reminds me, I need to finish debugging this before Monday. Do you mind picking up dinner?”

“Sure.. from that new French place again?”

“Sounds good.”

I smiled as I gave Philip a quick kiss on my way out to pick up the food. Everything was going well for our start up. It was hard to believe that only two years ago Philip and I were broke PhD dropouts who took a leap of faith building Virtual from our one bedroom Boston apartment. And now… well, let’s just say our first official month in business is projected to generate six figures in profits even after subtracting overhead. High six figures. And as soon as we open up our second and third facilities the growth would be exponential.

To top it all off, I was pretty sure Philip was planning on proposing to me next week on my birthday. I saw a charge from some jewelry company on his credit card statement while I was doing some filing last month. Judging from the amount, it could only be an engagement ring. Philip never would have spent that much on a piece of jewelry otherwise.

I sauntered out of the elevator from our high rise office with a pep in my step. The weather outside was just the right amount of sunny. Even the Boston air didn’t feel as suffocatingly polluted. Yes, everything was going well. Perfect, even. I eyed a meticulously trimmed bush suspiciously as I walked by. Maybe too perfect.

I felt a sudden stab of panic. The smile dissipated from my face.

Oh no.

~~~

The End