Welcome to the Simulation
You have elected your future
This is my submission for the monthly Symposium of the Soaring Twenties Social Club. This month's topic is “E_ection”.
I don’t check my mailbox anymore. I used to. When people would send real letters, and we still subscribed to magazines and newspapers. It’s still there, the mailbox. But I walk past it every day without giving it single thought. I empty out the advertising trash every month, and half of it is suggesting I get a free dental exam or buy groceries at a store I have never seen or heard of.
So when I saw the yellow manila envelope sticking out of the mailbox, I got curious. Probably the latest advertising hoax. It was a legal size envelope, and the size itself thwarted my instinct to throw it in the trash. That’s when I saw that it was addressed to me and that the address was handwritten. I felt the envelope. There was something thick and fairly heavy inside. About the thickness and weight of a thin paperback book?
Inside, at the kitchen table, I opened the envelope. It was a thin paperback book with firm covers. Legal size and with two buttons on the cover. The cover material felt like paper but had a metallic appearance.
The paper itself was thick and durable. Good quality. Like the kind you can’t tear apart. It was not possible to open this book. I quickly discovered that. First I thought my fingertips were too dry, you know how that can happen when you try to separate papers. No, it was simply not possible to open the book. So I thought, what if I press one of the buttons?
But before I did anything else, I grabbed the envelope again. Was there a sender? A stamp or mailing source? No. Who sent this to me? Was it a friend? I didn’t have any friends with this kind of sense of humor or skill for that matter. Was this a test of some kind? Was this a game?
I pressed the first button. The book opened to the first page.
I pressed the second button. Why? The spelling looked more accurate. Perhaps it helped the outcome to choose the better spelling?
The book opened to the second page.
OK. Whatever this was, it had now created a fork in the road. Did it want me to select E? Is that why the E was exaggerated in the first button? As a hint that I shouldn’t select the first button, but instead select the second one? Were we going abstract here? I selected the second button and pressed it. This is also when I began to feel a sense of dread instead of humor. This felt — not human?
The next page showed itself.
Two small keyboards imbedded in the thick metallic cardboard material of the page. It occurred to me to check how many more pages were left. Two. The next page and then the outer, back cover of the book.
So. Which keyboard would you choose? And what or which keys would you press? I knew as much as you do at this point. It reminded me of something from that old movie ‘Terminator’ — something Cyberdyne Systems created.
Well, objectively speaking — how abstract are you willing to go? Is it better to elect a keyboard with keys that are more decipherable or is it better (is that even the best choice of words?) to select a more abstract keyboard? Can we select without knowing what we are selecting?
This is where you might say:
“Well, throw the dang keyboard book in the trash and go about your life! Who cares what it is? Probably some stupid gimmick for a computer game.”
And I might say:
“Yes, you have a good point. It is probably trash. But what if it isn’t? What if you’re curious and want to see what happens?”
Am I scared? No. Not particularly. I am nervous. I wonder if this is an AI that is playing some kind of trick on me. Or some kind of research project over at the University? Or an invitation to a party from someone I wish was my friend? Or something — something from the future? I am nervous.
I notice the duck-looking button on the second keyboard. And I press it. I also press the key to the right of it. And wait. The page turns.
The page is divided into two screens. Each large enough to fit my palm if I press it against each screen.
A voice speaks through a small loudspeaker that is imbedded in the paper material:
“You are permitted to elect one scenario. Only one. Select within 30 seconds or your selection will be decided for you through our random generator. Elect now.”
I will myself to inhale and exhale a large amount of air, and lower my shoulder and roll them around a bit. You know, attempting to relax a bit. I know my choice right away. I can sense it. I understand something I cannot explain. By the time you have read these lines I have already elected. Thirty seconds will have passed. But right now, in this moment, I understand that I am electing which simulation I want to step into. This, here, now, which we exist in — this is a simulation, and I am electing which simulation I will move into next. I do not have a choice. I will elect. I will move on, into a new simulation. A new reality. I know it doesn’t happen often that someone receives a manila envelope. But it happened to me. And I chose the second scenario. I will let you figure out why yourself.
I look down at my shoes before I press the screen with my palm to elect. I smile. Thankfully I wore my favorite Vans! Then my hair moves into the vacuum and here we goooooo!!!
All images generated via Canva. Prompt by author.
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My sci-fi anthologies: Errante and No End Code
I really the balance of the cosmic and mundane in this piece, such as the decisive weight of choosing a new simulation, coupled with the relief that you wore your new Vans. A fun and intriguining story!
Brilliant story! I was immediately drawn into it!