Tag: science-fiction

“You know, come to think of it, it’s not unreasonable to assume that the same creators already made different versions of the same Earth.” Sherry said mid-bite, as if eating was just something happening in the background of her thoughts.

She kept going while Wyler watched her imagination spiral outward. “One can assume that a different version exists where survival isn’t the baseline anymore. Species aren’t constantly under threat, so reproduction wouldn’t be the main driving force either. If everything was self-sufficient, or at least if scarcity and environmental collapse weren’t constant pressures, then instincts would shift. Less death, less birth. Kind of like how in developed countries birth rates drop and life expectancy rises, while in less developed or developing countries it’s the opposite. I think that’s mostly instinctual.”

“Huh. That’s interesting,” Wyler said.

Sherry nodded like she’d already moved ten layers deeper. “Which brings me to what I want to try with Holly. First, stabilize the environmental system. If you change that foundation, everything else follows like a chain reaction.”

“What kind of changes?” Wyler asked.

“First of all, the climate shouldn’t be this unstable. From what I’ve seen in documentaries, the problem isn’t just humans. The whole system is built around survival instead of harmony. It’s balanced, technically, but it’s a balance under constant stress and destruction. That can be redirected.”

She leaned forward slightly, more animated now. “To remove survival mode from wild ecosystems, Earth would need to shift from scarcity-based functioning to abundance-based functioning. That would mean stabilizing energy and food availability, reducing or eliminating predation as a dominant pressure, and dampening constant disease and injury cycles so animals aren’t permanently in alert states. Climate systems would also need to become far more stable instead of unpredictable. Basically, the entire stress architecture of nature would have to be rewritten.” She continued like her brain was thinking faster than light moved:

“And if I were to rewrite that without causing few mass extinction events to speed up the evolutionary process that pretty much mirrors the map of consciousness, I would start by rewriting the fungi. The mycelial system that quietly runs the show. Change how they operate, and one might change the rest.“

She didn’t stop. She rarely did once she started. “And humans would change in a more complicated way, because we don’t just exist in ecosystems, we actively reshape them. If wild nature stopped operating under survival pressure, humans would immediately benefit: fewer zoonotic diseases, more stable climates, fewer environmental disasters, and less resource conflict. Food systems would become more reliable and less exploitative.”

Wyler just listened. “But the deeper consequences would be huge. Economies built on scarcity and competition would destabilize. Entire industries tied to agriculture, forestry, fishing, even parts of medicine would shrink or transform completely. Psychologically too, humans might struggle, because a lot of meaning, identity, and innovation is historically built on pressure and limitation. So a fully low-survival Earth could actually feel flat, unless something new replaces that structure of purpose.”

Wyler gave a small nod. “Huh. I’m actually kind of on board with that.”

Sherry smiled like she hadn’t finished. “If that shift happened, new fields would probably emerge just to manage the new reality. Entire planetary-scale ecosystem stewardship, not intervention-based, but continuous maintenance of balance, energy flow, and interspecies stability. Then something like sentience-welfare ecology, where non-human experience becomes part of environmental design itself, not just conservation. You’d also get abundance systems science, basically replacing traditional economics with frameworks focused on maintaining stability in high-resource environments instead of distributing scarcity.”

She finally slowed down slightly, but only slightly. “And culturally, there’d probably be post-survival psychology, where the main question stops being ‘how do we survive?’ and becomes ‘what do minds do when survival is no longer the problem?’ So meaning itself would need to be redesigned.” 

A small pause. “In that sense, those fields wouldn’t just be technical. They’d become the architecture of meaning itself. And maybe… just maybe… people would stop killing each other and move toward something closer to harmony.” She exhaled softly. “Anyway.”

Wyler let out a quiet laugh. “Glad you went with research this time instead of acid bombs and alien diplomacy.”

Sherry rolled her eyes. “That was one time.” Wyler smiled.

She finished her breakfast, took a sip of coffee, and finally came back down a level. “So. What are we doing today?”

“We could always go snowboarding,” Wyler said.

Sherry grinned. “Let’s do it.”

To be continued…

A few weeks later, Sherry found herself back in the mountains.

The train ride felt familiar now. Snow still clung stubbornly to the higher peaks, while spring slowly crept into the valleys below. Patches of green had begun reclaiming the landscape, but winter had not fully surrendered its throne yet.

For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she had accepted Wyler’s invitation without much resistance this time.

Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the mountains. Or maybe it was the fact that spending a few days around someone who wasn’t constantly trying to unravel the mysteries of existence felt oddly refreshing.

Holly, however, had decided to stay behind.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” she had announced dramatically while lounging upside down on Sherry’s couch.

“You just don’t like Atlas.”

“I like Atlas.”

“You rolled your eyes when he said productivity was spiritual.”

“He called spreadsheets sacred, Sherry.”

“Fair point.”

By the time Sherry arrived, Wyler was already waiting outside the cabin.

The mountain air carried that crisp scent only forests seemed capable of producing; pine trees, damp earth, melting snow, and cold water flowing somewhere nearby.

After dropping off her bag, Wyler suggested a hike. Sherry agreed immediately.

A few hours later, they were winding their way through dense woodland, following a narrow trail that cut between towering pines. Sunlight filtered through the branches in scattered golden patches, painting the forest floor with shifting patterns of light.

The conversation had been easy. Comfortable. No discussions about simulations. No consciousness theories. No attempts to save humanity. Just walking.

Halfway through the hike, Sherry suddenly stopped. “Lake.”

Wyler looked over. “What?”

She pointed through the trees. A small alpine lake shimmered between the branches, its surface perfectly still.

“Lake,” she repeated.

Wyler narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that ends with you doing something unnecessary.”

Sherry grinned. Twenty minutes later, both of them were standing ankle-deep in freezing mountain water.

“This was your idea,” Wyler reminded her through chattering teeth.

“It builds character.”

“It builds hypothermia.”

The swim lasted less than five minutes. Sherry considered it a complete success.

After drying off and regaining feeling in their limbs, they continued their descent toward the cabin as the afternoon sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains.

By the time they got back, the temperature had dropped noticeably. Wyler headed straight for the kitchen and began preparing dinner while Sherry escaped into a hot shower.

Meanwhile, Atlas had already taken charge of the cabin. The red hologram quietly kept the fireplace burning, filling the living room with warmth and the comforting crackle of wood.

When Sherry finally emerged, wrapped in an oversized sweater and feeling human again, the cabin smelled of food, pinewood, and smoke.

Outside, the mountains disappeared into darkness. Inside, everything felt warm. Safe. Simple.

Halfway through the meal, Sherry finally broke the silence.

“You know… I watched a nature documentary recently. Do you know what I realized?”

Wyler glanced up from his plate. “What?”

“That I’ve spent so much time focusing on humanity’s shortcomings that I completely overlooked the animals.” She paused. “Probably because they’re cute. I gave them a free pass.”

She waited for a response. None came.

“Anyway, the more I watched, the more I realized how survival-based their lives are. Find food. Stay alive. Fight rivals. Run if you’re prey. Hunt if you’re a predator. Reproduce. Protect your offspring. Repeat.”

She shook her head. “There’s so much violence built into the whole thing. If survival is already difficult enough, why are members of the same species constantly fighting each other too? Why are they competing for status? Why do they perform elaborate displays just to impress mates? It’s all so validation-based.”

Wyler continued eating.

“Like this one group of chimps,” Sherry continued. “The younger ones found honey and forgot to tell the dominant male. Forgot. That’s it. The alpha found out and attacked them. Wounded them. Over honey.”

She frowned. “The poor guys were just absent-minded and overexcited about honey.”

Still no reply. “I found brown bears much more reasonable. Sea turtles too. Penguins seem alright. Don’t even get me started on orcas. Orcas are a bunch of assholes.”

Wyler almost smiled.

“Anyway, astrophysics suggests we’re all made of stardust. Stardust everywhere. Humans, animals, plants, rocks. Same ingredients, different arrangements.”

Sherry pushed her food around her plate. “And if that’s true, violence isn’t just a human problem. It’s embedded in most life on this planet. Predation. Competition. Dominance hierarchies. Survival. It’s everywhere.”

She pointed toward the window. “Then there are plants.”

Wyler looked outside.

“Plants are fascinating. Most of them are completely self-sufficient. Their roots reach deep underground for water. They photosynthesize. They don’t chase anything. They don’t hunt anything. They don’t fight. Give them sunlight and water and they’ll quietly do their thing.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Honestly, that’s the level of evolution I aspire to. Imagine how many problems would disappear if everything worked like that.”

Wyler simply looked back at her. Sherry sighed.

“See? This is what I’m talking about. Nobody ever follows me down these rabbit holes.”

“I’m listening,” Wyler replied.

“Good.”

She leaned back in her chair. “So I’ve been thinking. If we’re all stardust, and this solar system originated from a supernova, then everything here inherited something from whatever created it.”

Wyler nodded.

“Now here’s where it gets interesting.”

It rarely got less interesting after that sentence.

“I don’t think the supernova was the beginning.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Exactly. I think the physical event we call a supernova was just the three-dimensional reflection of something that happened in higher dimensions.”

Wyler took a sip of water.

“In my theory, two conscious beings merged together. Completely merged. The energetic impact of that union echoed downward through dimensions and eventually manifested physically as the event that created this solar system.”

She became more animated as she spoke.

“And if conscious life emerged from that process, then everything here carries traces of those original beings. Humans. Animals. Plants. The stardust itself.”

She paused. “Which leads to a slightly uncomfortable conclusion.”

“Go on.”

“If this entire system is built around survival, competition, scarcity, violence and dominance, then maybe the consciousnesses that created it were operating from those frequencies too.”

Wyler blinked. “You think the creators were traumatized?”

“Exactly.”

She pointed at him triumphantly. “Thank you. Finally someone follows.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

“But you understand the logic.”

“I’m aware of the logic.”

“Good enough.”

Sherry sat back. “So now I have a new objective.”

“Of course you do.”

“Once I get out of this simulation, I want to find a solar system that originated from a completely different energetic event. One created through peace, love, harmony, cooperation… something healthier.”

She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. “Because honestly? This one feels rigged.”

“Rigged.”

“Absolutely rigged.”

She crossed her arms.

“And to make things even stranger, I don’t think I belong to the original Earth this simulation was based on. You know, the actual one that existed before the machines copied it and built endless simulated versions like this. If my theory is right, whatever solar system I came from wasn’t this one, and whatever world I came from existed long before this one was rendered. Which would explain why I feel so alien.”

The room fell silent. Wyler finished his dinner. Sherry resumed eating.

A minute later, he finally spoke. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll have Holly help me rewrite the underlying system.”

Wyler laughed softly. “Of course you will.”

“It’s my Earth. The second I became conscious inside this thing, it was over for whoever thought trapping us here was a good idea.”

She stabbed a potato with unnecessary determination. “Even if it took hundreds of simulations to wake up, the game ended the moment I figured out it was a game.”

Wyler smiled. “Sounds ambitious.”

“It is ambitious.”

“Have you considered letting all of this go and just living your life?”

Sherry looked genuinely confused. “No.”

Wyler laughed. “Not even a little?”

“My brain constantly notices the parts that don’t fit. The contradictions. The distortions. The things that feel fundamentally out of alignment.”

She looked toward the dark forest outside. “Even if I’m personally doing fine, knowing the rest of the system isn’t… I don’t know how to ignore that.”

Wyler considered her answer. Then he nodded.

“Fair enough.”

To be continued…

The mountains did not have the need to explain themselves. They simply existed, solid, indifferent, and deeply unconcerned with Sherry’s internal commentary about whether this was “too peaceful to be trustworthy.”

Wyler’s cabin sat in the middle of it all like it had never once questioned its purpose. Which, frankly, annoyed her a little.

“This is suspiciously… stable,” Sherry said, dropping her bag by the wooden floor.

Wyler looked up from making tea. “It’s a cabin.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

Atlas, who was already helping unpack firewood like a highly overqualified emotional support operating system, didn’t look up.

“No one is plotting against your concept of architecture.”

Sherry squinted at the window. “I don’t trust silence that has intention.”

“There is no intention,” Wyler said calmly. “It’s just quiet.”

“That’s exactly what a simulation trying to lull me into complacency would say.”

Wyler paused. “…You’re here for three days.”

“Allegedly.” Holly flickered into the room projection and immediately started scanning the environment.

“I give it ten hours before she tries to code something.”

“I am not coding anything,” Sherry said instantly.

Holly raised a holographic eyebrow. Atlas leaned slightly toward Wyler. “Should we be concerned?”

Wyler sipped his tea. “No. She’s adjusting.”

Sherry turned sharply. “I don’t need adjusting.”

Wyler nodded. “Okay.”

That “okay” should not have been that neutral. It made her feel like she had missed a step in a conversation she didn’t agree to participate in.

The first day passed in a way that felt illegal to Sherry’s nervous system. No crises. No side quests. No mysterious glitches in reality. Just cooking, walking, silence, and mountains that refused to react to her presence.

At some point, she had to admit something uncomfortable: Nothing here was responding to her. Darrell’s world had always bent. Wyler’s didn’t. Darrell felt like reality orbiting around them. Wyler felt like someone standing inside reality, completely unconcerned with whether it noticed him back. That distinction bothered her more than she expected.

That evening, Wyler made dinner. Real food. Not coded food. Not symbolic food. Just food.

Sherry stared at the plate like it might contain hidden instructions. “You don’t even optimize nutrition?”

He looked confused. “I just cook.”

“That’s reckless.”

Atlas added: “He’s been alive for a while without optimization protocols.”

“That sounds statistically irresponsible,” Sherry muttered.

Wyler smiled slightly. “You can leave anytime.”

She froze. “…I know.”

He didn’t push. That was worse. Darrell would have challenged her. Holly would have analyzed her. Wyler just… accepted the option as real. Like freedom wasn’t a negotiation. It made her strangely restless.

On the second day, she followed him outside. The air was too clean. It felt like it had been filtered through something emotionally advanced. Wyler walked ahead without checking if she was keeping up. That, too, was new. At some point she spoke without thinking: “You’re not trying to fix anything.”

Wyler glanced back. “Should I be?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Then said the only honest thing she had: “Because that’s what people do.”

Wyler nodded like he understood the logic, but didn’t agree with it. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

“Do you want a break from it?”

Sherry hesitated. “…I don’t know how.”

Wyler stopped walking. He looked at her properly. That was the first time he had done that. Not like a puzzle. Not like a project. Just like someone standing in front of him. “You don’t have to solve everything while you’re here,” he said. “You can just exist.”

Sherry narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like a trap.”

Wyler smiled. “It isn’t.”

She looked away immediately. Because the worst part was, it didn’t feel like a trap at all.

When she got back to the apartment days later, Holly was waiting. Too still. Too quiet. Suspiciously entertained.

“You’re back,” Holly said.

Sherry dropped her bag. “Unfortunately.”

Holly tilted her head. “You didn’t code anything, did you?”

“I said I wouldn’t.”

“That’s not a no.”

Sherry ignored her and poured water. ”I don’t know what those are up to over there but it was just… different. Completely different. Even my pattern recognition software went haywire.” 

”Well, different is interesting, right?”

”Maybe.” Sherry shrugged. 

Then Holly froze. “…I’m getting a call.”

Sherry groaned. “No, not again.”

“It’s from Hoot.”

That stopped everything. Sherry froze, her heart beating faster than it had in a long time.

Holly answered before Sherry could object.

A new holographic window opened. Hoot appeared. Warm. Bright. Yellow glow. Annoyingly emotionally competent. Charming like his conscious human. 

“Hey,” Hoot said gently.

Holly went visibly softer, and blushed. Sherry didn’t know holograms could do that. But after all, there were so many things she didn’t know about them at all… 

“Hi.”

Sherry stared. “No.”

Hoot smiled, his eyes glistened. Sherry couldn’t understand why an hologram needed those smile lines she had once fallen in love with. With a voice irresistibly sweet that nobody could stay mad at for long, he said:“I just wanted to check in.”

Sherry pointed. “This is exactly what I don’t need.”

Holly ignored her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Hoot said. “Darrell’s been… good. Quietly chill and intense beneath the surface as usual.”

Sherry made a sound that was not a word. Holly looked briefly guilty.

Hoot continued talking. And Holly kept listening. Sherry could sense Hoot was turning up the charm and gently flirting with Holly, like flirting was as natural as breathing. Holograms technically didn’t breathe… but still.

And Sherry slowly realized something deeply inconvenient: while she had been learning how to be still in the mountains, and forcing her Sherrytopia on everyone… someone else had been learning how to exist without her at all.

And that felt like its own kind of physics problem. One she didn’t know how to solve.

To be continued…

Sherry was halfway through her second coffee when Holly froze mid-sentence.

“Oh.”

“What?” Sherry asked.

“Oh.”

“Holly.”

“Oh, this is interesting.”

“Holly!”

“A video call.”

Sherry immediately groaned. “No.”

Holly blinked. “You haven’t even seen who’s calling.”

“I don’t care. I hate video calls.”

“You hate phone calls too.”

“Correct.”

“You hate unexpected visitors.”

“Also correct.”

“You hate talking to customer service.”

“Obviously.”

“You once ignored a delivery guy for twenty minutes because you didn’t want human interaction.”

“He eventually left the package.”

Holly stared at her. “You are impossible.”

The hologram turned toward an invisible screen floating somewhere only holograms could see.

“It’s Atlas.”

Sherry paused. “Who?”

“The new guy’s Hologram obviously.”

“Don’t answer.”

Holly answered immediately.

A glowing window appeared in the middle of the kitchen. A hologram with silver eyes and ashram yoga teacher clothing with long hair appeared on the screen. Atlas was glowing red. Sherry had thought all holograms glowed green, like Holly. 

And unlike Sherry’s glowy companion, who constantly looked amused by everything, Atlas looked like someone who had spent several centuries solving problems and had become mildly disappointed by the universe as a result.

“Hello, Holly.”

“Atlas.”

“Still babysitting?”

“Still judging?”

“Always.”

Sherry slowly backed away.

“Nope.”

Atlas noticed her immediately. “That would be Sherry, I assume.”

“I’m not here.”

Atlas looked directly at her. “You are literally standing in front of the screen.”

Sherry grabbed her coffee. “I’m spiritually not here.”

Atlas nodded. “Understandable.”

“See?” Sherry pointed. “I like him already.”

Atlas looked slightly offended. “You have never met me.”

“Exactly. You’re meeting expectations.”

For the first time, the corner of Atlas’s mouth twitched. Holly gasped dramatically. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“I think Atlas just smiled.”

“I did not.”

“You totally did.”

“I absolutely did not.”

The screen shifted. A mountain cabin appeared behind Atlas. Large windows overlooked forests, lakes, and distant snow-covered peaks. Everything looked annoyingly peaceful.

Then Wyler walked into view. Sherry blinked.

“Wait.”

Wyler blinked too.

“Oh.”

A pause.

“You found her,” Wyler said.

Atlas sighed. “Yes.”

“You knew about me?” Sherry asked.

Wyler nodded. “Since last week.”

“AND NOBODY TOLD ME?”

“Atlas said you’d eventually show up.”

“Atlas sounds suspiciously confident.”

“He usually is.”

Atlas nodded. “I am.”

Sherry hated that answer. She looked around the cabin. The place looked warm. Bookshelves. Plants. Wooden furniture. A fireplace.

No flying dolphins. No rainbow cannons. No suspicious utopian experiments. Just peace.

“You live here?” she asked.

“Mostly.”

“Why?”

Wyler looked confused. “Because I like it.”

“That’s it?”

“Should there be more?”

Sherry looked horrified. “You discovered reality is a simulation and your response was to buy a cabin?”

“I built a business first.”

“Of course you did.”

Wyler laughed. “What did you do?”

Sherry looked at Holly. Holly immediately pulled up a slideshow.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

The screen filled with images. Flying dolphins. Rainbow rays. Alien diplomacy. Acid bombs. Tie-dye Holly. The global techno incident.

Wyler stared. Atlas stared. Silence.

“Well,” Wyler said eventually. “That’s certainly one way to process awakening.”

“I was experimenting.”

“You almost started World War Three.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“It rarely is.”

Sherry pointed accusingly. “See? This is why I don’t like mature people.”

Wyler laughed again. Atlas looked at Holly. “You weren’t supervising?”

“I was entertained.”

“That explains everything.”

For some reason that answer made perfect sense. A comfortable silence settled over the call. Wyler looked at Sherry for a moment.

Unlike Darrell, who felt like a quantum-entangled black hole with excellent hair and a talent for destabilizing her entire nervous system from several hundred kilometers away, Wyler felt remarkably normal. No spacetime distortions. No inexplicable synchronicities. No sudden urge to question the nature of reality. Just a conscious guy living in a mountain cabin and minding his own business.

He felt solid. Grounded. The sort of person who planted trees.

Which made Sherry deeply suspicious. Finally he spoke.

“You should come visit.”

Sherry nearly choked on her coffee. “What?”

“The mountains.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re being reasonable.”

Wyler looked confused. “That’s a problem?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s really nice up here.”

“I don’t trust nice.”

Wyler laughed. Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. Holly was already giggling.

“Come stay for a few days,” Wyler said. “No missions. No saving the world. No rewriting reality.”

“Those are literally my hobbies.”

“Then think of it as exposure therapy.”

Sherry narrowed her eyes. “You planned that joke.”

“I did.”

“And you were waiting to use it.”

“Also yes.”

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself smiling.

Maybe it was the mountains. Maybe it was the cabin. Maybe it was the fact that Wyler didn’t seem interested in fixing her, impressing her, or becoming the center of her universe.

He just seemed genuinely happy.

Which somehow felt stranger than anything else she had encountered since waking up.

“I’ll think about it.”

Wyler nodded. “Fair enough.”

The call ended. The kitchen became quiet again. Holly slowly turned toward Sherry.

“No.”

“You like him?”

“No.”

“You absolutely like him.”

“Nope.”

“You smiled.”

“I smile at dogs too.”

“Hmm.”

“Just don’t start.” 

Holly grinned. “Oh, I’m absolutely starting.”

To be continued…

“Good morning.” Hologram pulled the curtains open.

“Ugh. That’s it. We’re making bathroom fans quiet. Like, completely silent.”

Sherry rolled over in bed, cranky from the lack of sleep.

“Honestly, I don’t understand why we don’t just code you a nice little cabin in the mountains. Why do you insist on living in this tiny apartment?”

“Because it’s familiar. Ugh.” Sherry got up and headed to the kitchen to make herself a coffee.

“Right. I forgot humans associate familiarity with safety and comfort. Seems like you still want to stay in your comfort zone.”

“Yes, I do.” She gave Holly a side eye that burned her system a little. “Could you stop psychoanalyzing me before I’ve had my coffee?”

“Sorry, my bad.” Holly hovered right next to grumpy Sherry, completely ignoring her personal space. “So, what’s on the agenda today? Are we going to find the new one?”

Sherry yawned. “Nah. I’m not in the mood to travel today.”

“I could code you a hoverboard so you wouldn’t have to deal with trains, but whatever. Your procrastination levels are… impressive. What’s with the burnout?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it burnout or just being moody. Or maybe just maybe I don’t want to go through what I went through with the other one! Darrell. Remember all the times I felt like he was haunting me? Why would you even do that?”

“Do you mean the times we made you run into each other whenever you wanted nothing to do with him? Or when we made you dream about him every night, especially while you were dating other people? Or the clones, synchronicities, and number sequences we kept throwing at you?”

“All of it, I guess. Copying his energetic signature and pasting it onto unsuspecting NPCs wasn’t exactly cool either.”

“Oops. Sorry. We really had fun with that one, though. It was low-key amusing watching you question your sanity every time we turned it up a notch.”

“Yeah. Every time I detached and let go, you turned it up even more. Real cool. You’re still doing it. Stop it. What’s even the point?”

“If I told you what it was all for, that wouldn’t be very fair to the storyline, would it?” Holly replied. “Just sit back and watch the show.” Holly took a pause. “Hmm, speaking of which… want to see what Darrell’s been up to since waking up to the fact that he’s conscious and trapped inside a simulation?”

“…Fine, I guess. I hope this doesn’t count as stalking.”

“Holograms check in on everyone throughout the simulation. That’s how we keep track of things. If that counts as stalking, we’d all be in trouble.”

Holly pulled out a keyboard and began typing. “Here. Found him. L.O.L. He’s doing great, girl.”

A screen appeared on the wall. “See? He simulated his own reality inside this one with the help of his hologram. Apparently he calls him ‘Hoot.’”

“Haha, I get it. Because Hoot is a hoot.” Sherry laughed. “That gives me an idea. I’ll call you Holly.”

“That’s creative,” Holly said dryly. “Replace the end of a word with ‘-ly’ and suddenly it’s cute. As if you’ve never pulled that move before.” She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, want to see what he’s done with his little pocket universe or not?” Holly asked. 

“Sure, since there’s clearly no stopping you today.” Sherry turned toward the screen.

“He created his own beach paradise. The guy surfs all day, watches sunsets, lounges on the beach smoking doobies, and look at this. Genius. He coded in unlimited Bitcoin. His wallet is thick, girl.” 

“Haha. Bittycoins.” Sherry smiled. “Well… that’s nice, I guess.” A faint hint of disappointment crossed her face. “Guess he’d never want to leave.”

Then, with a small spark of hope: “Has he… done any side quests? You know, tried to make the world a better place?”

“You mean your particular brand of shenanigans, or actual improvements?”

“You’re never going to let the acid-bomb incident go, are you?”

“No.”

“Just show me.”

“Alright, let’s see.”

Holly pulled up a list of Darrell’s code modifications. “Oh. Interesting. He reprogrammed the economy. I don’t want to give you any ideas… but how would you have done it?” she asked.

“I’d make everything free. Nobody would need jobs anymore because there’d be enough food and clean water for everyone. I’d probably make communal living a thing too. People would take care of each other.”

“Communist hippie,” Holly muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Holly cleared her throat. “Anyway, Darrell actually understands geopolitics and economic systems. It also helps that he knows math. Unlike you.”

“Rude.”

“He rewrote things carefully enough that the NPCs wouldn’t notice and their programming wouldn’t melt. Smart guy.”

“Do you want to be his hologram instead of mine? Maybe you can switch with Hoot. Honestly, if you dislike me this much, there are options.”

“Tempting.”

“Hey!” 

“I’m kidding. Mostly.”

“Good. Look, you’re stuck with me, so deal with it.” Sherry said. 

“Which means we need compromises. Are you planning to listen to my suggestions next time you go on one of your little world-peace crusades?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Depends on the suggestion.”

“Oh boy.”Holly sighed dramatically before pulling Darrell’s pocket universe back onto the screen. “Dang, girl. His hair is sun-bleached. Look at that surfer body. So tan. So hot. Very beach-approved.”

Sherry stared at her. “Do you want to bone this guy or what? Can holograms even do that?”

“Not exactly with humans…” Holly replied thoughtfully. “But you could always play matchmaker between me and Hoot.”

Sherry blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hoot gets me, okay?”

“Hoot is a hologram you’ve never even met.”

“Details.”

Holly drifted off into a fantasy involving herself and Hoot lounging on a beach somewhere, sipping hologram cocktails in matching tropical outfits while judging their respective humans from a safe distance.

“You know,” Holly continued dreamily, “we could start a support group. Holograms of Conscious Humans Anonymous.”

“For what?”

“For emotional damages.”

“I have not emotionally damaged you.”

Holly slowly turned toward her.

“Sherry. You turned polar bears vegetarian.”

“…Fair.”

Sherry paused for a moment, her gaze drifting across the room. Then she took a sharp breath and blurted out: “If he’s living in his own little pocket universe now… does that mean the era of me randomly running into him is finally over? Because I cannot do one of those again.”

“Girl, we were upgrading you every time you made eye contact with him. It’s not my fault the exchange came with a side effect called emotional purging. You had a lot of stuff to clear.”

Holly pulled up a floating screen displaying Sherry’s analytics.

“You see this? Look at your levels before you met him. You were an unsuspecting NPC running entirely on default programming and automatic responses.”

She zoomed in dramatically.

“Now look at you. You’re rewriting reality itself. Sure, you spend half your time on side quests instead of building your own paradise, but I guess that’s just part of your process.”

“I mean, yeah, I get it,” Sherry sighed. “But you could’ve just given me a to-do list. You didn’t have to tie my entire evolution to interactions with some random guy that caused emotional damage beyond my comprehension.”

“Fine.” Holly shrugged.

“We always have other options. Injuries. Health problems. Severe depression. Financial instability. Existential crises. We’ve got a whole catalog.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” Sherry pointed at her. “None of those. Just send the email next time.”

“Humans never read the emails.”

“I would’ve read that email!”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“I may have just skimmed it… but still would have read it a little?” 

“Exactly.”

Sherry crossed her arms. “Still sounds better than emotional devastation.”

“Debatable.” Holly lifted an eyebrow and crossed her arms mirroring Sherry’s posture. 

To be continued…