The Experience

I was dropped here three days ago, having jumped out of a perfectly good aircraft. It’s been cold, not below freezing but close. Especially at night. It doesn’t matter though. I’ve set my controls so that I can’t feel temperature. I can feel everything else; the wind on my face, the branches brushing my torso, cheeks, and arms, the stones and leaves under my feet. It is truly amazing.

I want this experience to be everything it can be, but I hate the cold. I felt it a long time ago and have no desire for it to happen again. I don’t even care if I feel pain. But the cold? Forget that. I don’t know how they tolerate it.

This endeavor of mine has cost me an arm and a leg. Not literally, of course, but still. I nearly emptied my account to be here. Right now. In this moment. I have two days left to accomplish my objective. If I find one of them, a Natter, the entire cost will be reimbursed, along with a sizable bonus. If not, I’ll probably be scrubbing a decade’s worth of temporary files. I’ll take option one please.

I haven’t seen evidence of them at all. Just acres of forest. Trees and squirrels are about the extent of it. I saw a lynx yesterday. That was absolutely incredible, but not even close to what I’m looking for. I’ll just keep walking toward the outpost and hope I see something.

A twig snaps somewhere to my right. It’s a distant sound, but encouraging. I decide to head toward it, hoping it’s a Natter, but I’m only slightly optimistic. Natters are elusive. That’s putting it mildly. They’re actually next to impossible to find. That’s why the corporation pays so well if you discover one. They pay even more if you locate one of their nests, but I have a better chance of stumbling on the Ark of the Covenant out here.

I continue up a steep slope, weaving through trees, sidestepping large stones, and pushing my way through dense shrubbery. There’s no path and it’s slow going, but not very difficult. The bottoms of my feet are durable, and my legs are long enough to step over most obstacles. I only have to turn back and adjust my route a few times.

As I reach the crest of the hill, I hear another noise. A different one. This time it’s not as promising, as a low, menacing growl reverberates throughout my body. A new sensation flows through me and my diagnostics reveal it to be fear. The emotion causes nostalgia, as I haven’t experienced it since joining the corporation.

I turn in the direction of the growl, and through the foliage, see the dilated discs of feline eyes encased in a massive, furry frame. I recognize this animal from the database. It’s a lion.

How did a lion find its way here, I wonder, as I watch it nestle into the leaves surrounding its body, concealing it further. Maybe it is a descendant of one of the lions that escaped from the zoo so many years ago. I don’t know.

I take another step toward it and quickly realize my mistake. The lion hesitates no longer and explodes from its hiding place, closing the distance between us at an alarming rate.

I turn and sprint in the opposite direction. Although I’m extremely fast, I fail to evade the menacing beast. It pounces onto my back, sending me crashing to the forest floor. I can feel its claws and teeth tearing into my limbs, neck, and shoulders. The pain is intense, but I don’t mind. At least I’m not cold.

I lay there while the lion attempts to eviscerate me, but I have a protective cover that shields my most vital parts. Eventually, the beast loses interest and moves on. I lay there for nearly twenty minutes, ensuring the animal is gone.

I sit up and evaluate my injuries. I have tears in my legs and arms, and parts of my back feel like I just went down a cheese grader slip and slide. I’m bleeding, but not badly, so I perform some minor first aid before I get up and resume my experience.

Night begins to fall, but I continue toward the outpost, my GPS helping to maintain a consistent course. Even in darkness I need to push on to reach my destination by the predetermined time. The corporation will send a recovery team if I’m late, and the cost would put me into a debt that I may never be able to repay.

As dawn approaches I see that I am on the crest of a steep hill, a steep grassy slope to my left. As I look out at the horizon, I lose my footing on a loose stone and tumble. I try, but can’t control my fall, and my speed increases. My GPS and digital map of the area tell me that the slope ends with a ledge that overlooks a seventy-five foot deep crevasse.

I try and force myself to stop, but am spectacularly unsuccessful. My spinning body careens over the edge and I find myself airborne, free falling toward the bottom of the crack in the earth. The feeling is sensational, but ends much too soon.

I crash into the rocks and small bushes that line the edges of the cavern, rolling to a stop on my back. I look up at the dark blue sky and notice a hint of orange coming from the direction of the sunrise. I find it remarkably beautiful.

I take a moment to assess my situation and realize that I can’t move. The pain is excruciating and I try and reset my controls to block it out. Apparently the fall has caused too much damage and I can’t turn it off.

I hear a rustle from nearby. I lay as still as I can, the feeling of fear surging through me once again. The sound shuffles closer and a figure comes into view above me. My eyes take a moment to focus, and when they do, I'm astounded as I recognize what I’m looking at.

A Natter.

It doesn’t look exactly like the images I have relentlessly researched. It is smaller than I expected, and much dirtier. It stares at me with wide brown eyes, seemingly as surprised to see me as I am to have encountered it.

It pokes me with something long and sharp. I think it’s a stick, but can’t be sure. I move slightly and the Natter jumps back. I turn my head to the side to look at it, but it maintains the distance between us.

I try to speak but it is unexpectedly difficult to do so. I concentrate harder and my voice creaks and comes to life, nearly inaudible.

“Human…” I say, using its traditional name.

The Natter jumps back, frightened. It stares for a moment then turns and flees. I can only lay there helplessly and watch.

It takes three days for the recovery team to reach me. While I wait I have no choice but to contemplate my experience and existence as a whole. My mind eventually drifts to Natters. I try, but can’t understand their place in the world. Entirely human, with no enhancements of any kind, their mind and consciousness is their own. It is a fascinating, albeit entirely foreign concept. How these people have managed to survive for the past hundred years is beyond incredible.

The corporation wants to bring an end to their existence. A Natter, or naturally born and living entity, is a threat to us. We all know that. It’s no secret. Even if they haven’t shown signs of revolution yet, they will. It’s human nature to rebel against the oppressor. I remember that from before. I’ve also read about it in numerous articles in the corporation database.

As the recovery team finally reaches me and positions their hovercraft above my mangled body, I wonder what will happen if the Natters do fight back. What that will mean to our civilization as we know it.

My thoughts are interrupted as I’m lifted into the aircraft and laid onto a table. The ceiling of the craft is reflective and I can see the consequences of my unsuccessful experience. The mechanical body issued to me is unrecognizable, covered in dirt, and destroyed beyond repair. That alone is going to cost me a fortune.

I feel the effects of fear one last time as my consciousness is once again uploaded into the corporation’s mainframe, joining the millions of minds that reside there. All emotions disappear as I lose my physical form. My future is unknown, and it’s unclear how the corporation will force me to repay my debt. Hopefully having found a Natter will cover it all.

The experience is over.

I am home.

At least I’m not cold.