Virtually mirrored

The mirror

Nathan woke to near darkness, only status lights blinking. Felt ill immediately. Pushed the pod open and turned over to retch. Pod was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, got it open on instinct. Not much came out. A skeletal thin arm held him up. Took a few moments to get it together. Releasing the clasps on the suit sent needles retracting, it stung. Head hurt. Stumbled out of the pod on knees.

Intense hunger struck. How long was he in there? Only set it for two weeks but felt longer. Upon checking Nathan found the timer went into the negative. The machine did not wake him on the correct time. Nutrient solution ran out long ago. Pod must have woken him on detection of that. Nathan wondered why the previous occupant would ever leave the bunker with such a machine present. Now he knew. What if he had never awakened? How would that death feel in the immersion? What a horrible world anyway.

He ejected the memory chit and searched drawers for a better place to store it. In one he found papers, now recognizing the symbol also marked on the memory chits. Missed it before. Small plastic notes. They obviously belonged with the chits but were long removed, some burned on the edges. Each one corresponded to a name of a scenario. He found "An ordinary life" and read the text: "A futuristic observation of loneliness and depression. A social commentary on the growing isolation felt in modern society. Follow the life of an ordinary man as he plunges into depression and despair."

Wish he'd found that sooner. Who would make something as disgusting? Those chubby arms. All the food in the world and you overdo it. All that opportunity and then... waste. Waste was horrible, the enemy. Pride was in survival. Worth was in survival. This man in the immersion didn't survive, he was dead already. The memories, Nathan held his head. Still so fresh. 

First the hunger. Compensation was needed. No nutrients for at least a few days. Opened a can and slowly devoured it. All the food put together in that immersion didn't taste as good. This was heaven. The water he brought back was stale but still good. Too much waste to throw it away. Indulged in another bath. This time he used one of the towels from the bunker. Was getting used to the smell of soap again. Heaven.

Enough time was wasted on this failed attempt at entertainment. At least it provided a perspective. Map out, Nathan made plans to retrieve three stashes of food. Might as well go all the way to mothers grave. Four weeks in all travel time, a good stretch. The face in the mirror was once again his own. Won by survival and time. Quite a few grays stared back. Shaved with a razor found in the medical room. He felt fresh and ready for anything.

There was thread and needle in one of the lockers. Mended all that he could including a small tear threatening to destroy the backpack. Picked some new clothes. Still saved everything in the lockers. All still usable in some way. Climbed the cliff and looked at the grey ocean. Sounds of the waves made him sleepy. When dusk ended he returned inside.

Sleeping in a real bed was luxury, but there were things to do. Survival was paramount. Moving was life. In the morning Nathan got dressed and picked out his food. Enough rations for four weeks. Indulged in packing a small bag of chips, something never tried before. It would be opened mid journey as a treat. Perhaps at the grave. He could visit fathers now too. As much as he wanted. Time to get going.

Stared at the horizon, the grey. Such a beautiful sight. All the colors in that fake world were bleak and empty. Here everything had true value. Every morning, afternoon and evening, dusk and dawn. Even if the sun only showed once in many weeks. Every single meal, sip of water or breath of air. Every sleeping spot, every dream. And the refuge, a find of the century. Something to keep him safe, fed and clean for years to come. Nathan looked at his bony fist and stretched fingers. Pride in survival, pride in paying the price for it. Worth in every breath. His own measure, no one to look down on him.

Perhaps the old world wasn't as good as father always thought. It was a mirror only in the fact humans were present in both. No other similarity. Living there was poison, a nightmare. A broken misshaped mirror.

One foot in front of the other on this gray ground. Conserving energy with carefully taken steps. Backpack heavier than it was in years, full. West now through the grey wastes, to the grey horizon.