Michael Robertson - New Reality - Truth

The idea for New Reality came to me after reading a comic adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s Electric Ant by David Mack. The story is of an android discovering he isn’t a real person. After plenty of ‘soul’ searching, the android concludes that its ability to process the world like a human being through sensory receptors makes it living. It permits itself to exist.

This got me thinking. If an entertainment system could stimulate all five of our senses, would it be convincing enough for the user to think it was real? Could it be better than reality? What if it responded to desire? Would anyone ever log off?

New Reality is the result of this line of thought.

Kneeling down next to the inert woman, Jake groaned. A year with a poor diet and exposure to the elements had left him feeling like a rusty hinge. With a machete in his right hand as long as his forearm, he felt its weight. Its perfect balance made it feel like an extension of his body. In a world where everything was battered to within an inch of its life, and often beyond that, the polished blade still looked brand new.

“I’m not sure about this!” Tom shouted over the gale force winds. The scarf covering his mouth muffled his voice. “What if she twitches while you’re doing it?”

“She won’t,” Jake said, scanning their surroundings. The dust storm reduced visibility to about fifty meters. He looked back at Tom, who was so tense he was brittle, and waited for him to say more. When he was in this frame of mind, there was always more.

“And what will we do about Rixon?”

Bingo .

“They’ll be on top of us before we know it.”

A moth of anxiety fluttered in Jake’s chest, and he searched the flattened wasteland again. “That’s why we need to be quick.” The statement was as much for himself as it was for Tom. Complacency in this world led to death. Swallowing, Jake grimaced from the burn of the grit in his throat. The dust got everywhere, regardless of the rag covering his mouth. Shaking his head, he squinted as he looked into the storm. “How do they always know what we’re doing?”

Tom raised his slim shoulders in a shrug that ran the length of his beanpole body. “They see everything.”

“You’re paranoid.”

Standing taller, Tom’s face twisted at Jake’s comment. “So what if I am? My paranoia has saved us on more than one occasion over this past year.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Keep your knickers on, sweetheart. I’m just playing with you. Seriously though, once we start this, the clock will be ticking. No fucking about. You got that?”

The long nose and dour expression on Tom’s face made him look like he belonged in a stable.

“The point I’m trying to make,” Jake said, “is that we don’t have time for sentimentality.” Standing up, he rubbed the top of Tom’s left arm. It felt like rubbing a sleeved stick. “I appreciate this must be hard for you, but you need to keep your head. We need to get her out of New Reality before they get to us.”

Tom didn’t respond.

Sighing, Jake shook his head. “I can’t believe it was only a year ago when they leveled the city. I can’t believe we both decided to hide by the Rixon Tower. We probably never would have met if we hadn’t.” Standing up had sent sharp needles of pain into Jake’s hip. Wincing, he rubbed the sore area. “It feels like much longer.”

Bending down, Tom swiped away some of the surface debris from the woman’s body. “It looks like she’s been here for much longer too.”

This was the first time Jake had met Tom’s wife. She was so fat she looked like she was melting into the environment. What did Rixon gain from making the gamers obese? Was it to make them die quicker? To give them less people to be responsible for? It wasn’t murder if their bodies failed them.

With skin so pale it was virtually translucent, Jake shuddered at the sight of the varicose veins streaked across her fat arms. Watching Tom for a moment as he removed small pieces of brick and concrete, he put a hand on his friend’s skinny shoulder. “We’ll get the headset off, mate. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Stopping, Tom looked up at his friend, his eyes glazed with tears.

The confidence with which Jake had delivered his statement had already vanished. Looking at the woman again, he pointed at the headset. It was made from glossy black plastic and had a red stripe running across it. The stripe bore the name of its creator—Rixon. “If I never see another one of these again, it’ll be too soon.”

Tom didn’t reply.

The headset was probably a perfect fit three years previously, now it looked like it belonged to someone half her size. In the same way a tree could grow around an iron fence until they became one, her ever-expanding body had partly consumed the plastic headpiece. Looking at how tight it was on her head made a pulse throb in Jake’s temples. Trying to rub his headache away did nothing. “She looks like she’s in a coma.”

Another glare from Tom made Jake raise his hands in defense. “Sorry, mate, but she does.”

“Can you please call her by her name?”

“Sorry, Thalia. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.” Regarding Tom again, Jake added, “Rixon claim she’s in paradise now.” He scanned their surroundings. No Bots. “That headset is allowing her to experience her dreams on every level.” Jake used his fingers to count. “Sight, sound, touch, taste, smell.”

“Right, five-dimensional entertainment. What’s your point, Jake?”

“My point is that she looks fu—” Tom’s scowl cut him short. “She doesn’t look like she’s living any kind of fantasy life.”

After clearing the last of the debris away from her chest, Tom pointed at the headset. “What will happen when we pull this thing off?”

“There’s only one way to find out. Are you sure you want to try?”

Although his face was creased with worry lines as he searched their environment, Tom nodded. “I have to. She’s my wife. They don’t fucking own her.”

After clearing his throat, Jake said, “Right, you ready?”

All Tom managed was another weak nod.

When Jake knelt down, his knees burned like the joints were filled with broken glass. Biting down on his bottom lip, he stifled his moan. Tom didn’t need to hear how much he was hurting. Not today. Not now.

Black straps held the headset in place. They dug into her flabby neck. Taking a deep breath, Jake slid his index finger along her pallid and waxy skin, but he couldn’t get beneath the straps. The strain was so tight on them, the pressure could crack nuts. Probing farther, Jake’s long fingernail nicked her flesh and she stared to bleed.

“Be careful, Jake,” Tom hissed.

Finally getting purchase on one of the straps, Jake pulled it away from her neck, exposing a gap of just a few centimeters. When he slid the shiny blade into the space, the glinting metal looked even more deadly against her skin.

The wind wasn’t loud enough to mask Tom’s whimpering. “I said be careful, Jake. Don’t cut her.”

The grit stung Jake’s face when he stopped and looked up. “Do you want to do it?”

Tom shook his head.

Swallowing did nothing to ease Jake’s sandy throat and his pounding pulse. The sharp weapon shook in his grip. What if he maimed her? Killed her? In the corner of his eye, Jake could see Tom bouncing on the spot like a child needing a piss. Turning on Tom again, he frowned hard at his friend. “Would you please stop that?”