Dawn pierced the darkness of early morning. Galloping horses echoed through cobblestone alleyways. The knight in front blew the horn, signaling that reinforcements had arrived.

Catapult-flung boulders slammed into the outer walls. Scattered bonfires lit up buildings already laid to waste, their black smoke and twirling embers were like fire against skin.

The knights used a secret passage and emerged from a trapdoor. They skewered enemy soldiers with steel lances and their lifeless bodies collapsed like ragdolls into a moat of green sludge. The knights made their way from one end of the city gates to the other with ease. The enemy put up little resistance, as though they were mindless drones cast under a spell.

The knight leading the charge was taken down by a barrage of raining arrows. He hit the ground with a thud. His ears went ringing, and the simulation slowed down to a standstill.

“H– hello, Mr. Smith?” a voice echoed from nowhere. “I do apologize for the interruption, but I’ve been alerted that you may be experiencing some discomfort in your chest—your heart rate is concerning me a bit—I’m going to make a few adjustments.”

“Yes, please!” Mr. Smith replied from inside of the machine. “I think I may have overdone it with this knight simulator. Can we switch over to something more relaxing?”

“Sure thing, no problem,” the therapist replied through his headset.

The simulation flickered and transformed into an idealized beach sunset accompanied with a flow of electromagnetic pulses to help calm Mr. Smith’s vitals.

“Ahh, yes, much better…” he said with a hint of inebriation.

The therapist admired the tit-for-tat reactions of Mr. Smith’s nervous system to his every command. The quantum codes phased in and out, perfectly replicating the very sensation of feeling itself.

Everything within the Elation quantum environment was exact and precise—just like the real thing, but better. The physics behind every grain of sand, every blade of grass, the billowing clouds, the shining steel, and the refraction patterns of the light were all true to life. There was no way the human nervous system could tell the difference between reality and the simulation, because in a way, there was no difference.

After a few seconds of technologically-induced euphoria, Mr. Smith’s vitals returned to normal levels.

“Dr. Freeman?” he sounded short of breath.

“Yes, how are you feeling after those adjustments?”

“Much better, but I think that’ll do for today.”

“Certainly, let me get you out of there. How about we do something a little bit more low-key for your next visit?”

Mr. Smith slid out of the machine with an intoxicated grin.

“You kidding me? That was fantastic, I nearly died!”

“Another satisfied customer. We can book a longer time slot if you’d like—just let the receptionist know on your way out.”

The therapist nodded enthusiastically. He parted his thinning black hair, revealing a slight glaze of nervous sweat. His tan skin appeared purple in the dim blue light of the treatment room. The lighting helped diminish the dark circles under his eyes. He was of average height, average weight, and stood up straight to improve his posture score through his smart shoes app.

“Have a great night, Mr. Smith.”

“You too, Doc.”

Gene Freeman wasn’t really a doctor, but he didn’t mind the title.

Mr. Smith took out his phone and sent an extra $400 under the table for the special treatment. Not bad for a side hustle.

On his way out of the offices, Gene waved to the receptionist.

“Have a good night, Mark.”

Mark was busy organizing patient information inside of a cluttered holographic database.

“You too, Dr. Freeman. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“Same time, same place.”

Gene pointed at him with a cheesy smile.

“You know it,” Mark replied with a reluctant sigh and went back to work.

Gentle rain fell under pale blue LEDs. Gene ejected his umbrella and walked through the medical center’s hexagonal courtyard with its neatly trimmed hedge bushes and gaudy marble fountains. He scanned his thumbprint on his phone and waited for his car to pick him up.

A 2147 model luxury sedan with a sleek black exterior pulled up to the curb and made a deep metallic hum from the super-conductive strips in the tires. The car’s AI sensors detected Gene’s presence and the driver’s side door automatically opened for him. He sat down and patted the arm rest affectionately. The buckle draped over his shoulder and snapped into place. It was like his car took care of him. The door sealed closed and shut out the sounds from the outside world. He felt so safe and secure. He closed his eyes and took in the moment of peace and quiet.

Another pleasant ending to another pleasant day.

He played Spring by Vivaldi and sat back for a quick power nap. Holographic sticky notes, floating folder icons, and various documents were strewn across the dashboard like a messy virtual office. There was no steering wheel, because the car was fully driverless. All he had to do was set the destination in his phone and the car would take care of the rest. Of course, you could trigger manual operation and use a steering wheel if you wanted to, but your insurance premiums would instantly skyrocket. There was no good reason for it—it just wasn’t safe.

Gene was headed to Mulligan’s Bar and Grill to see his good friend and coworker Rob Walters for a few drinks before heading home for the night. Rob was a lead programmer at Lodestar Medical Technologies, an Elation reseller and subsidiary in San Jose, California. Rob had been with Lodestar since the very beginning, over fifteen years ago, while Gene had only been with the company for three years now. He learned everything from Rob, at least all of the really dense stuff—how to rewrite quantum scripts, how to create new protocols from the ground up, designing fluids, controlling air density, and manipulating tactile feedback response within the simulated world.

Rob was Godlike.

For better or worse, Rob had taken Gene under his wing and showed him the ways of the quantum source code. He saw potential in some of Gene’s early optimization scripts, and that kind of recognition really meant something coming from someone like Rob. They would often meet up for drinks after work to discuss new projects, troubleshoot problems, or speak privately about their ongoing experimental research. Some matters were best discussed outside of the workplace.

His car pulled up to Mulligan’s, with its big bright yellow horseshoe sign out front. It was a bit of a dive bar and the food was horrible, but it had a great vintage atmosphere. Inside, it was like an old English pub, complete with stained-glass windows, retro beer signs, dart boards, and pool tables. It was definitely Rob’s vibe.

“Genie Weenie!” Rob bellowed across the room from one of the pool tables. “Get your heinie over here and let’s play us a coupla’ games of nine ball—hey barkeep! Let me get another round for me and my kemosabe here!”

Rob was his usual boisterous self. The bartender was clearly busy with another customer.

“Just a minute, Rob,” the bartender snapped back.

Robert Walters was a very large man, tall and wide, with a constant sweaty shine. He wore a green tracksuit with brown Birkenstock sandals. He always wore tracksuits, but Gene was pretty sure the only physical activity Rob was doing was walking to the kitchen to get a beer. His gray hair was tied back in a scraggy ponytail and his unkempt beard was reminiscent of a madman who lived in the mountains, but his wilderness wasn’t that of mountains or forest. He was a madman of Silicon Valley.

“Green today, huh?” Gene teased him about his tracksuit.

“You know it’s my power color, smartass. Every self-respecting magician has one.”

Rob struck the semi-transparent cue ball like a magnetic speed train. The pool stick controller produced a convincing feedback effect. The balls cracked and bounced around realistically. He didn’t sink anything, but he didn’t seem to care. Rob just liked to watch the physics play out.

“New QTM tomorrow,” Rob spoke in a quieted tone, or at least quiet for him.

“Is that right…” Gene chalked up a pool stick.

“That’s right, and they don’t go public until next month. So that gives us a full three and a half weeks to implement. Should be plenty of time.”

The holographic billiard balls appeared in a diamond shape at the far end of the table, one through nine, in numerical order.

 “Well, considering last time it took us four months—” Gene started, but Rob cut him off.

“Ooh Genie Weenie, cry me a river. This is a minor update, not a completely new overhaul. And besides, we’ve learned so much and come so far.”

Rob struck the cue ball and he sunk the eight ball in the side pocket.

“Hey, we’re not playing eight ball, so I ain’t dead yet. Remember how to play this one? Lowest number first—”

“And the nine ball last. Yeah, I remember,” Gene replied.

A robotic server rolled up with their beers on a tray.

“Yes. Nine ball last, very good.”

Rob always had to get the last word in.

“Ya doing anything interesting lately?”

He took his next shot and sunk the one ball, corner pocket.

“Well, I’ve got a ballet recital in the morning I’ve been working on for a few weeks. Nothing enhanced, but I spent some extra time on the costumes and set design, which was a lot of fun, actually. Then I’ve been working on that medieval knight simulator.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that coming along?”

“Ran it earlier tonight and may have pushed things a little too far.”

“You have pain enabled?”

“Yeah pain’s enabled, but I’m thinking I might need to tone it down a little bit. I nearly killed a guy earlier tonight.”

“Well, he signed the waiver. Worst case scenario—dead men don’t talk.”

Rob chuckled devilishly and lined up his next shot.

“Yeah, but we shouldn’t be killing people for a few extra hundred bucks, Rob.”

“Hey it’s his life, his decisions. Sounds like he got what he paid for—no harm done.”

He sunk the two ball, side pocket.

“I’ll want to check out that knight simulator. Don’t touch the settings. You know some of these freaks want the pain turned all the way up. I’ve got a new client asking for a whole serial killer sim. He’s paying top dollar. Wants to be the murderer and the victim, if you can wrap your head around that.”

Rob sounded amused by the idea.

“You’re not going to do it, are you?” Gene sounded repulsed.

Rob shimmied his eyebrows up and down and took a big swig of beer.

“Now don’t look at me like that, Geenie boy. You’ve got to think about the bigger picture—would you rather these people were out there killing people in the streets, or doing it in a simulation? That’s the question you’ve got to ask yourself.”

Rob took his next shot and sunk the four and seven balls in the same corner pocket. Gene drank his beer and watched on. He’d never been able to beat Rob at a game of pool in his life and it didn’t look like that was about to change anytime soon.

“Or, maybe, how about not doing it at all? And not encouraging murderous psychopaths in the first place…” Gene reasoned.

“Aw c’mon, what’s the fun in that?” Rob let out a hearty laugh. “Besides, who are you to judge unless you’ve tried it? You might enjoy murder. Can you really know a killer unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes?” Rob gestured like a philosopher. “What if the murder was justified? Or maybe they just need an outlet for their aggression? If that outlet is a simulated environment and they’re willing to pay a premium for that experience, I’m willing to provide a quality service to them at the right price—it’s the American way. You know, we’re making it so husbands don’t bring STDs home to their wives, right? Think about it! It’s a public service, honestly.”

Beer sprayed from Rob’s grizzled beard as he talked. Gene did his best to hold back a look of disgust as he felt a fine mist against his face.

“Yeah, well, you know, I thought we were aiming for higher pursuits here, or at least that was the idea, anyway.”

“It is a higher pursuit. God doesn’t stop murderers, so why should we?” Rob snickered. “If anything, we’re doing a better job than God, because we’re actually stopping bad things from happening in the real world! We’re doing God’s work here! You know, people who don’t study in this field wrongfully assume us scientific types don’t believe in God. I do believe there’s an ultimate puppet master of the universe, but it doesn’t give a fuck about good or evil—it created both! It created the whole goddamn buffet!”

Rob’s eyes widened and he paused for effect.

“Maybe…” Gene sounded reluctant.

“Ah, what do you know? You’re just a kid.”

Rob sunk the three and five balls in either side pocket with machine-like precision.

“Well, I’m thirty-three, Rob, I’m not exactly a kid anymore—”

“Yeah, sure…” Rob talked over him. “Anyways, you wouldn’t believe some of the new stuff I’ve come across lately. I’ll tell you this much … I’m convinced now more than ever that we are producing actual realities inside of the machine, or rather, the machine is triggering the natural capacities of human biology to create reality itself. These are not mere simulations we’re dealing with, no more than existence itself is a simulation! That’s the elephant in the room!”

Gene’s expression perked up. This was the stuff he was interested in.

“But can we prove it in a research paper?”

“We’re getting there, we’re getting there … I’m not interested in that bullshit—not when we’re on the cutting edge like this. I’ll tell you something, I believe we can tap directly into the stellar realms—our consciousness can achieve a fully quantum state, and go anywhere in the universe in the blink of an eye! All we needed were the keys to the kingdom! Who wants a nuts-and-bolts spacecraft when you can project your consciousness anywhere instantaneously, and do whatever the hell you want? Can you imagine it?”

Rob got this far-off, starry-eyed look. Gene raised an eyebrow at him. Rob might have been losing it.

“Most of that is just going to be too much for people,” Gene leveled with him. “We need data-backed research, stepping stones we can build upon, not wild speculation. We need the approval of institutional review boards, ethics committees, and a major academic institution backing us if we want to do this right—and let’s face it, Rob, the shit we’re doing is highly unethical. There’s no way we can reveal these findings without incriminating ourselves in the process.”

“Ethics committees, give me a break…” Rob scoffed. “That’s why we present everything as a series of hypothetical simulations. We’ve been over this a million times—they can’t prove a goddamn thing, so don’t get your panties in a twist. Fuck the institutional review boards! We shouldn’t be forced to bend to their will! Let them figure out how to quantify the divine! Let them articulate the intangible until they find it satisfactory! We’re the explorers of the next frontier! The tip of the spear! I ain’t speculating shit!”

Six ball, corner pocket.

“And another thing, kid—don’t let the limited thinking of those crotchety old academic types get in your head, not when we’ve scratched the surface of the divine.”

“Rob, we need to figure out a feasible research method if we ever want to apply for grants instead of fucking around,” Gene put it bluntly.

Rob snickered and lined up his last shot on the nine ball.

“You just don’t get it, Geenie Weenie. You worry too much, I’m telling ya—listen, I’ve made arrangements to ensure our protection. There’s nothing to worry about.”

He took the shot—nine ball, corner pocket, and that was game.

“Start writing the paper since you’re so damn excited,” Rob told him, “and I’d be happy to co-author it, just as long as my name goes first. You’ll get your fame and glory, and I’ll usher in the next phase of human evolution. It’s a win-win.”

Rob let out a big hoot and Gene couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“You know, extinction can be the result of evolution if you’re not careful, Rob.”

“Touché. In that case, we’ll just have to see what happens post-extinction, won’t we?”

Rob’s eyes widened like a maniac.

“Post-extinction…” Gene laughed at the idea. “Just as long as we end up with a decent paper before that happens, I’ll die happy.”

They clinked beers.

“Good game, you up for another?”

“Sure, one more—but I break this time.”

“Alright, your majesty, be my guest.”

The billiard balls reappeared at the end of the table. Gene didn’t sink anything and Rob won as usual. They went on about the research paper. It all seemed so tangible, like they were on the brink of the next big thing. If only they could just reach out and grab it, it could all be theirs.

On the way home, Gene picked up some fast food and messaged his wife Daelyn:

Sorry Dae lost track of time, picked up tacos!! Be home soon <3

All she sent back was: K

He knew he was in trouble. He should’ve texted sooner. What time was it? It was 10:30, with another half hour on the road.

“So stupid…” he scolded himself.

At least he picked up tacos.

He walked in the front door just in time for their favorite show.

“Hey Dae, sorry it’s so late. You know how Rob gets going.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’ve heard it all before.”

Daelyn was surrounded by holograms of her socials floating all around her. She laid back on the oversized couch in lavender pajamas and her color changing fingernails shifted between pink and purple. Her delicate features were of Japanese-American descent and her jet-black hair was cut in an asymmetrical bob style at the shoulder. She grabbed the bag of tacos and immediately started devouring one.

“I had a nice home-cooked meal without you,” Daelyn lamented with her mouth full. “I’ve been doing so good staying on track, but now you’re going to sabotage me with this processed garbage.”

“Aww, you know you love it!”

He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Well, that’s the problem,” she said between bites.

Daelyn changed the channel on the holovision using eye-tracking. Gene went into the kitchen to grab his favorite hot sauce.

“How was your day?”

“Don’t ask,” Daelyn replied with a heavy sigh.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yet another issue at the museum, of course.”

“Oh no, now what?”

“The floor anchors were slightly off, so they want us to refit the benches—again—rather than make additional holes in the floor. So we’re going to have to remold—again. It’s the actual worst thing ever. This whole project has been an absolute nightmare.”

Daelyn was an up-and-coming designer at an architectural firm in downtown San Francisco. Her work was elegant and minimalistic, featuring natural repeating patterns and sustainable manufacturing processes. Her most recent project was a series of interlocking benches for an upcoming biomimicry exhibit at the Science Center.

“Those bastards!” Gene shouted in solidarity with her.

“I know, tell me about it—Genie hurry, it’s starting!”

He rushed in from the kitchen and walked through a dense layer of holographic fog in the living room. The fog wisped around his legs as he grazed past. Shooting stars shot overhead and reflective silver lettering appeared in the night sky that read: Samsara Productions in the middle of the living room.

Strings from a symphony orchestra began to swell. The silhouette of a knight on horseback reared up in front of the blazing Sun. The knight raced downhill through a dark forest, narrowly avoiding arrows shot from close behind. The knight jumped across a ravine and slashed through giant cobwebs that led to an abandoned castle courtyard. A red dragon swooped in from above and breathed fire into the living room. The title: Lancelot, A Hero’s Journey emerged from the fiery embers with a glistening sizzle.

The episode was a suspenseful one. With the help of Merlin’s magic, Lancelot was able to successfully infiltrate the evil sorcerer’s lair to rescue Queen Guinevere. She had been hidden away in a secret chamber and enchanted into a timeless sleep. Upon finding her, Lancelot was captured and taken prisoner. The whole thing was a setup.

Gene did his best to stay focused on the show, but before he knew it, he was knee-deep in code.

“Damn you!” Lancelot’s voice echoed through the dungeon.

Daelyn giggled at the actor’s over-acting. Gene was busy with complex quantum simulations and wasn’t paying attention.

“Damn you!” Daelyn imitated Lancelot’s bad acting.

Gene still wasn’t paying attention.

“What’re ya doin’?”

Daelyn flopped over into his lap to interrupt him.

“Oh, just some stupid work stuff I need to send over in the morning,” he said while swiping through different windows.

“Do you really have to work on it right now? Just before bed? You were already gone all night…”

“I wish I could—really, I do—but I’ve got a lot going on right now, Dae.”

Daelyn sat up and stared him down.

“So, every night you’ve got a lot of work going on? Even when you get home at eleven after drinks with Rob? How does that work?”

Gene froze.

“Hey look, I don’t need this right now. We’re finally making some headway on some really big research here.”

He reopened the windows he previously minimized. Daelyn shot off the couch.

“Sooo sorry to get in the way of your groundbreaking research, Dr. Freeman!”

She stormed off towards the bedroom.

“Oh, come on Dae, don’t walk away from me!”

“It’s true though, Gene—it’s not just tonight, I mean it’s all the fucking time! You were being so nice when you got home, but it’s nice for five seconds, and then you’re back at it again. When are you not coding or working on whatever the hell it is? Why am I even here?”

Gene paused with a disgusted look on his face, trying to figure out what to say.

“I’m progressing in my career—for us,” he said in a self-righteous tone. “You know how hard I work, and you’re totally bringing me down right now.”

“You’re totally bringing me down right now,” she mocked him. “Okay! Well then you better get back to it, doctor! You’re such a self-absorbed piece of crap…”

She slammed the bedroom door closed.

“Well good night, I guess!” he huffed.

Gene tensed up and went back to work.

Truth be told, he wasn’t really working. He was busy making tweaks to his beach program for his own hacked session tomorrow afternoon, against company policy, and against his better judgment. He pushed his emotions aside and went back to adjusting physics variables. He was obsessed with getting every nuance just right. Things like fabricating the feeling of warmth from ray-traced sunlight, or programming the sensation of water against his virtual skin mesh. He linked his taste bud receptors to a computer-generated lemonade he’d been crafting for months—not too sweet and not too sour—ice cold, but without the brain freeze. Everything was perfect inside his simulated world.

Later that night his vision blurred. He felt like he was falling and blacked out. He opened his eyes and it looked like the water from his preview panel had spilled out into the living room, but that was ridiculous. What time was it? It was 3:32in the morning. He needed to get some rest.

How could he be so stupid? That damn fight they had earlier. He shouldn’t have let her go to bed angry like that. He saved his work and slumped off to bed.

He laid down next to Daelyn and she roughly adjusted the blankets. He’d better stay still if he knew what was good for him. He closed his eyes and afterimages of code phased into darkness.