Still panting from his own exertion, Dave watched Phil bring his snowboard to a stop a few feet away, grinning.
“Thought I was going to hit you?” he laughed.
“No, I knew you were just messing about.” He couldn’t be bothered to joke along with Phil. It was the same old joke every time.
Phil shrugged and watched Emily hurtling down the slope towards them. “She’s still not used to stopping these things,” he said. “Let’s get behind the barrier.”
“Whatever,” Dave replied flatly, unclipping his boots from the board. Behind the barrier, he watched Emily sweep into the final curve. The sky was a brilliant blue above her, the air crisp. Another perfect day.
“That was fantastic!” she beamed. “I’ve always wanted to do that! Wow!”
“Isn’t it great?” Phil enthused back, and she nodded happily, looking to Dave for his response.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said flatly.
“Want to switch to skis?” Phil asked.
“No,” Dave replied. “I don’t want to be here at all.”
Even though Phil and Emily looked uncomfortable, Dave knew they were relieved; his bad mood had been tarnishing the perfection.
“I guess you’d better see the Experience Manager,” Emily suggested and Dave nodded. “See you soon!” she called as he trudged away. He couldn’t bring himself to respond, so he pretended he didn’t hear her.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he repeated, this time to a pert brunette sitting behind a desk in a nearby chalet.
“That’s fine Sir, would you like to try a different resort?” she chirped back, tapping the projected buttons on the oak surface in front of her.
“No, you don’t understand, I don’t want to be here anymore.”
When his response didn’t fit into any pattern, she looked at properly for the first time. He brushed a strand of his floppy brown hair out of his eyes and held her gaze.
“Err, ok, how about a trip to Venice? Or the pyramids, they’re beautiful at this time of year you know,” she was looking back at the projected screen, just a blue haze for him on his side of the desk.
He sighed. “I don’t want to go to Venice, or Egypt. I don’t want to see Mars either, before you ask. I want to Exit.”
Her tapping fingers froze. “If you have a complaint, I’m sure that we’ll be able to resolve it and improve your experience. Perhaps if you told me the nature of the problem…”
“You can’t fix it,” he replied, looking down at the wedding band on his left hand. “I just want to Exit. Please.” When she didn’t respond, he banged his fist on the desk. “I want to Exit damn it! Can’t you understand?”
She jumped. “I need to get my supervisor,” she replied and blinked out. He was left alone in the room, watching the perfect fire roaring away in the perfect fireplace.
He hated it.
A couple of minutes went by and another woman, looking older and more officious blinked into existence behind the desk. “Can I help you Mr Richardson? I understand there’s some sort of problem.”
He dropped into the chair. “Look, I just want to Exit. I told the girl that, but I’m guessing she isn’t authorised to meet that kind of request.”
The woman nodded, leaning forwards. “Could you explain the reason why?”
“I just don’t want to be here any more. Isn’t that enough?”
“Would you like to go to-”
“No!” he interrupted, “I don’t want to go anywhere else for Christ’s sake!”
She paused for a beat. “Would you like to change something about your appearance?”
He shook his head.
“Perhaps you’d like to try being a different gender,” she suggested. “A change of gender can restore interest in-”
“Look, for Pete’s sake, can’t a man just not want to be here any more? It’s my right, isn’t it?”
She leaned back in the chair. “Your desire to Exit may be caused by a neurochemical imbalance, so before we make any hasty decisions, I’ll order a full work-up.”
“Jesus,” he muttered holding his head in his hands. “I’m paying for this. I have the right to make this decision. I might be one hundred and fifty two years old but I’m not stupid, I still have all my faculties and know what I’m asking. None of your fancy software can fix this, I just want to stop now.”
She was pretending to listen, but he knew she was receiving a message. “I understand the loss of your wife has reduced your Experience enjoyment. Would you like to discuss the partnering options available to you?”
He stood, kicked the chair away in a flash of rage. “None of this is real!” he yelled. “It’s a bloody program! Do you think I forgot that? Do you think that some bloody AI is going to take my wife’s place? I know my rights under the Euthanasia Act, so go and make a note in your bloody file and unplug me before I message my lawyer!”
“Very well Mr Richardson,” she said coldly. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. Would you like to Exit in the Experience, or in the real world?” As he considered the question, she softened; “May I suggest passing away in your sleep here? It can be distressing for residents to wake in their pod. Your real body isn’t as -”
“I understand,” he held up his hands. “Fine, whatever. I just don’t want to wake up tomorrow.”
She nodded, tapping the desk. “And the rest of your last day Sir, where would you like it to be?”
He thought carefully. “Cornwall,” he replied in a whisper. “On the cliffs west of Perranporth.” It’ll end where it began, he thought, remembering the day he proposed to her on the real cliff, in the real world, in their real youth. She would have liked his last day to be there.
Even if it was only virtually perfect.
* * *
When I woke up this morning, I had no intention of writing a flash this week; I have so much on my plate. But this story appeared in my head out of nowhere as I walked back from dropping my son off at nursery. I have no idea where it came from, but it flowed out of my fingers like tears. I hope you liked it.
P.S. If you did like this, you might like the Short Story Club too. Just sayin’…
{ 17 comments… read them below or add one }
Very good Em!!
Sweet and sad – or maybe not that sad really: maybe sometimes it’s just time to go
Lots of nice touches… you never disappoint us!!
This was great, very touching. I liked your explanation ‘flowed out of my fingers like tears’. Sometimes those are the best stories.
I enjoyed this story. Thanks.
I enjoyed that immensely – thank you for writing it.
Great story; really enjoyed it. We’re all flashing fiction today, aren’t we! You should check out the words on http://yearzerowriters.wordpress.com for more shorts. Or flash. Whatever we’re calling it these days!
Looking forward to more,
jenn
@revolucion0
I am so glad you posted this. The ones that write themselves and all we have to do is listen are so magical. And this one is…magical. All heart.
Quit teasing me with snowboard stories when the season’s only a couple weeks away!
Good job, now stop goofing off and get ready for NaNoWriMo
Wow … just – wow. (I think you’re secretly channelling Douglas Adams …) Nice work Em. I’d love to go virtual snowboarding!
That was really nicely done. The gradual exposure of an artificial life, and then the fundamental realness that won’t go away.
Thank you everyone, I’m really pleased with this story.
@Iapetus999 – you win the “Who made Em choke on her tea” prize today
@Mazzz – yes, I’m glad you said that. Even with a perfect virtual life, I still think people would just want to go eventually, unless they were unaware of being in simulation, but that was just too Matrix for me! I wanted to have it as a “retirement plan of the future” instead.
I hope that’s a good thing….
Love it when stories just come, like this one did for you. Love the “real”/virtual tension–and it’s amazing how the same things are said when wanting to exit a “virtual” reality as when wanting to exit the “real” world. Lots of food for thought.
Geez, Tech Support is the same everywhere, huh?
I like this.
Nicely told, always a bit weary of Vanilla Sky type stories but you kept this interesting in the character
It sounds like America Online is running the virtual retirement business. This is really an excellent piece of flash fiction. It hits on many levels.
~chris
As always, very well written and thought provoking. Brought to mind Leo II of Herbert’s Dune saga, who lived for thousands of years but grew tired of life and wanted to die after a few centuries.