The Old World

Yes, parts of the old world still remain, but only those parts we chose to hang on to. No social or technological evolution could ever truly rid us of our affinity for life; our love for things that grow, for the shade of a tree or the caress of an early summer's breeze. Our sights may have been set on the stars, but our hearts will forever belong to green and blue.

Our neighbourhood -yes, one of those relics that we choose to indulge- is lined with trees, manicured lawns, neatly kept homes. Children still play in the street, we encourage this. Neighbours still wave, wives still gossip, men still play golf; some better than others, and life marches onwards in much the same manner as it always has.

The only real difference now is certainty; for we have mastered our universe, and we have conquered death.

“Hey, honey.” A gentle kiss to my wife’s cheek. She smiles, her eyes sparkling as she hands me a glass; deep auburn. I take a single sip before greeting my son.

Dabbled shadows of the setting sun play across the thick oak table where he sits, ensconced in the magic of coloured pens on paper. I ruffle his hair before seating myself in a plush armchair, one hand grasping my whiskey, the other a crisped newspaper.

“How was your day?” Jennifer asks, her back to me as she hovers over the stovetop.

The air crackles momentarily as I open my paper. “Perfect, dear, or as close to it as could be. Yours?”

Her day was filled with the small comings and goings of suburban life. I can hear the idle contentment in her words as she speaks, and it fills me with warmth. This is home, this is the place we once spoke of in hushed tones, the single, precious flame amongst the darkness of the old world. A once-dream, now become reality. All is contentment.

“Where’s your locket?” I ask suddenly with a frown, just now noticing that her chest is bare as she sets dinner on the table.

“Oh,” She fumbles at her collarbone. “You know what, I think I must have put it down outside while tending the garden.”

“I’ll go fetch it-” I begin to say, but she waves me back to my seat.

“It can wait until tomorrow, Samuel, please, sit and eat, you’ve had a long day.”

Dinner passes, and our time as a family fades into night. I tuck my son into his bed, kissing him softly. I close a creaking door to seal him within the small world of a room bred for imagination, toys scatter the floor, posters wrap the walls and a dimmed night light fends off the deep darkness.

Jennifer is readying herself for bed, her chest still bare. I frown again at the sight and something behind my eye begins to itch. “It may rain tonight, perhaps I -”

“Samuel,” She says with a smile, knowingly, understanding my anxiety over such things. “It’ll be fine, I’ll find it tomorrow.”

I grunt, slipping into my side of the bed, forcing my attention to the pages of my bedside book, but the sensation won’t ease. Something is off, the itch spreads. I turn to her as she eases into bed beside me, and for the briefest moment the world breaks. My mind breaks with it, gone is the softness of her skin, the roughened woven depth of our flannel blanket, the warmth of our bedroom, in its place; harsh lines and a void of darkness. Suggestions, only. Imitations of life. And as quickly as it broke, the world reknit.

Jennifer is staring at me, wide eyed. When had I gotten to my feet?

“Sam, are you okay?”

My breathing is coming in shallow gasps, trying to force myself to calm.

“Sam?” Jennifer asks again, her eyes concerned.

“I need-” I begin, then swallow. “Where is your locket?”

“Sam-” She says slowly, raising her hands. “I told you, I’ve misplaced it. Don’t worry, I’ll find it tomorrow.”

“I feel like you’ve said that before.”

“Sam, you’re not making any sense-”

“Something is wrong, Jennifer, can’t you feel it? I think something might be wrong with the server, or the uplink maybe, I-”

“Sam, stop this. We’re fine, just leave it.”

I shook my head, rounding the bed and heading for the door, ignoring her as she follows, her questions, her pleading.

Up into the attic, she’s screaming at me now. My son wakes up, he’s crying, confused. There’s no dust up here, everything is as clean as we first left it, perfect. I lock the door behind me before finding the console port, and connect.

I hate extraction, it’s like someone tugging you into the air by your nostrils, a faint metallic taste in the mouth. It hurts, even though it shouldn’t. My vision goes blank for a moment and then I’m out.

Back into the old world.

I open my eyes, or what passes for eyes in this maintenance drone. The air is thick with dust particles, for we’d long ago given up trying to keep the place ventilated. A dirty window lets in light, too bright. The withering, irradiated light of our dying sun casts a reddish hue across the sad little room where our bodies are housed.

There is no furniture, just two simple caskets, one for myself and one for Jennifer, each hooked up to a terminal that feeds into our server.

We no longer talk about our bodies, it’s better to forget.

Something is wrong, but not with my terminal, with Jennifer's. I move hesitantly across the room to find that her station has been turned off. I feel my mind begin to panic as I hook up to her terminal, requesting access to her logs.

“Hello, Sam.” Her voice greets me. It’s a recorded message, from eight months ago. “I wanted to tell you this in person, but I felt that this would be easier. For us both.”

“I’m tired, Sam, tired of pretending. Tired of waking up every morning and making breakfast for you and Joel. I love you, and I love Joel, but he’s not our son, he’s not real. I know what you’ll say, ‘But, what is real?’ and I understand your reasoning, but this isn’t the life I want.”

“We’re supposed to move on Sam, and I know you’ll never be ready to make this journey with me. You’ll be fine, I know this too, you’ve accepted Joel, you’ll accept the other me, too. I’ve left you something, it’s in the drawer beneath the console. I want you to move on, but please, don’t forget me. Goodbye, my Sam.”

I retreat from her terminal, heart heavy. With one last goodbye I reconnect, leaving behind a broken world of pain and suffering.

I’m back in the world we created together. Slowly, I open the drawer beneath the console.

Jennifer's locket, heart shaped, small enough to fit snugly in the delicate indentation just below her neck. Two pictures are set within; one of the two of us, young, the other; the only picture we’d ever had of our son, premature, too precious to exist in the old world.

With a final sigh I re-engaged the console.

“Reset server,” I say. “Eight hours.”

“Hey, honey.” A gentle kiss to my wife’s cheek. She smiles, her eyes sparkling as she hands me a glass; deep auburn. I take a single sip before greeting my son.

Dabbled shadows of the setting sun play across the thick oak table where he sits, ensconced in the magic of coloured pens on paper. I ruffle his hair before returning to my wife.

“How was your day?” Jennifer asks, her back to me as she hovers over the stovetop.

“Perfect, dear.” I reply, moving behind her. “You must have dropped this outside earlier” I say softly into her ear, placing the locket delicately across her neck.

It fits perfectly.