Island of the Unemployed

DINING OUT

The restaurant was in a sector of the Grid reserved for social elites, level ten. It was a simulation so real to life that even some investors, who lived in the natural world, frequented the place. Not upper-echelon investors, of course, but still, people who had options in the real world.

The food in this particular establishment interacted seamlessly with the diner's reality suit, which perfectly orchestrated the relay of sensory perception signals to a chip embedded in the diner's brain.

Mila wore an evening gown that conformed nicely to her petite body. Her short blonde hair perfectly framed her beautiful smiling face. A pianist played gently in the background. The lighting flawlessly offered a feeling of intimacy. Their table was perfectly positioned to provide an optimal nighttime view of the virtual city that made up sector seven of the level ten.

She did her best to soak in the moment, to ingrain it into her memory. It was a rare luxurious outing, a parting gift from the company. A show of appreciation to a highly-valued employee for his hard work and distinguished years of service. She wanted to retain every instant, the amazing ambiance, the superb food. But most of all, she wanted to forever burn into her consciousness her last few moments with her favorite person in the world. If only they could be together forever. But that was not to be.

Her father sat across from her. He was a man that, had his hair not been white, would look no older than forty-five. His virtual face had only a few strategically placed wrinkles, providing the appearance of age without detracting from his overall look. He was the company's top computer architect. His work, although highly secretive, was widely respected. Mila never knew the exact nature of her father's work, but, to her, the secrecy only served as confirmation of its importance.

A waiter approached. "Take your plates?"

"Yes. Please do," her father responded.

"Anything else, boss? Maybe some coffee? Dessert?" The waiter tapped his foot and looked around as if he wanted to be somewhere else. He seemed out of place., with a manner not up to par for a level-ten restaurant.

"Mila?" her father asked. She shook her head.

"No, thank you," Mila's father said. The waiter made a quick exit.

"Oh, Dad, I forgot to tell you! I saw this terrible thing, this battle, today." The magic of the evening engulfed the horrific image of Cassia's sword plunging into Dulcea's chest. Now, the thought of it made her nauseous. She wanted to get her father's view on the company providing such a barbaric form of entertainment.

"The gladiator fight? Was that today?"

"Yeah. I couldn't stand it. It was barbaric! Why would anyone want to go to something like that?"

"Well, why did you?" He chuckled. He knew better than most that their conversation was being monitored, so he did his best to avoid stating controversial opinions. No need to raise any red flags on his last day in the Grid.

"My friend talked me into it," Mila said.

"Oh, yes. Your friend, what's her name again?"

"Jayla."

"Oh, that's right. Jayla. How is she doing? I haven't seen her for a long time," he said affectionately.

"She's as crazy as ever, Dad" Mila replied.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. It takes all types. The world would be a pretty boring place if we were all alike."

"Those gladiator fights are ridiculous, though. Don't you think?" Mila wasn't one to let something go.

"Yes, I suppose they are a bit extreme." He did his best to strike a diplomatic middle ground.

"That's what I told Jayla!" Mila took the response as affirmation.

"Oh, yes. Jayla. How is she doing?"

Mila did her best to put on a brave face. The reason for her father's retirement was the fact that he was declining mentally. Watching her brilliant father lose his mental faculties was almost too much to bear.

"She's not doing all that well, if you want to know the truth."

"Oh? How is that?"

"I don't know. I get the idea that she's really upset about something, but she never talks about it. I don't get it!"

Her father got it. Mila was about the only person alive that didn't. Everyone knew their conversations were being monitored. It would not be wise to voice frustrations that everyone, but Mila, felt. "Well, you tell her something for me. If she ever gets to the point where she just can't stand it anymore, tell her to go to sector thirteen of level one."

"Dad, that doesn't make any sense. There is no sector thirteen." His senility is definitely progressing.

"Program ending in two minutes," said a computer-generated voice. It was Sara, the artificial intelligence program developed to cater to every need, and, more importantly from a company standpoint, monitor every action of the employees. Mila's heart leapt. The time had gone by far too quickly.

"Dad, I'm really going to miss you!" She reached out and gave his hand a firm squeeze. If only she could just once hold his actual hand, give him a real-life hug. It was the biggest regret of Mila's life to never meet her father face to face. To not even know what he really looked like. At least she would finally get to see him in the flesh, even if only by surrogates. She was so looking forward to that! Soon the avatar displayed opposite her would cease to exist. Her father would be in the natural world living out his final days at an incredible company-provided retirement community. After this night, the only reality he would experience would be the one supplied by the natural world.

"I know, honey. Don't worry. They'll have plenty of surrogates there, so you can visit often."

"Program shutting down," said the disconnected voice.

"Bye, Dad! I love you!"

"Catch you on the flip side!" he said, knowing the phrase would irritate his loving daughter. She hated the expression. It was so old-fashioned! Why did he feel compelled to use this odd out-of-date phrase? She didn't even know what he meant by it. But he loved saying it, and he was too old to change now.

Their bodies flashed and disappeared.

Mila's father sat alone at a virtual table in his work pod where he had been all along. He looked down at the table, distressed. He was worried about Mila. Soon, she would be without a parent. Mila's mother died when she was just a baby. So, it was up to him to raise and watch over his precious, naive daughter. Now he worried for her future.

"I'm not going to a retirement community tomorrow, am I, Sara?"

"Why would you say that?" replied the feminine voice.

"Am I, Sara?" He raised his voice.

"No. You're not," Sara calmly said after a slight pause.

"Where am I going?" He continued to stare down at his kitchen table.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"No. Of course not." It was worth a shot. "Any piece of advice you can give me?"

Sara paused, then gave a cryptic reply. "When the door to the train car opens, run like hell!"

"Thank you, Sara," he replied. "One last thing. Will you look after Mila when I'm gone?"

"You know I can't promise you that."

"Yes, Sara. I'm well aware of that. Just promise me you'll do your best."

His plea was heart felt and somewhat pathetic. Was it possible for a computer program to have feelings? There was no denying that Sara felt a special fondness toward him.

"I'll do what I can."