Virtually, Emily | A Short Story

 Time’s arrow has struck. Once I was a child who played with my friends online and loved to listen to podcasts about future worlds and the evolving nature of humanity. Never would I have imagined that I would age to the point where I am now living in the future. Where did all the time go? How did I go from a time where video games became portable to now waiting in an office for a psychological consultation about sending my mind into a virtual world where I can live out for the rest of time? I wish my children cared about me enough to be here for me in this moment. They care so little for me as their mother that they call me by my name: Emily. And the worst part is that I deserve their neglect. I was a horrible mother. And now I am reaching the time of my death and one is here to comfort or hold my hand.

On the bright side, the waiting room is well built and clean. The walls are mahogany brown, and the chairs are well cushioned. I suppose they must be considering the age average age of their clientele. Otherwise, my bottom would be aching. I see many employees pass me by as I wait for my name to be called. The clerk at the front desk is busy typing away at his computer and there are a few patients ahead of me in line. I could be waiting here for a long time.

I look down at the table in between the line of chairs and see a magazine. The front page shows an elderly woman carrying what appears to be her grandchildren. One boy and one girl. The image sends a shiver down my arms. I have not seen my own grandchildren in almost two years. My kids won’t let me see them. Maybe when I enter the virtual world, I will be allowed to visit them in other ways. Perhaps a part of the package deal lets us have virtual time with those in the corporeal world.  I am going to have to ask Dr. Harper about that when they call me in to see him for my consultation.

Wait a minute… if I enter the virtual world, will it really be me? If it is not really me, seeing my children and grandchildren will not be real. I would be dead, and they would be talking to a copy. I am beginning to feel quite anxious about this process. Maybe this isn’t the right decision.

I hear a ding sound. “Patient 112, please step into Dr. Harper’s office. Patient 112, Emily, please step into the office.” I take a gulp as I slowly stand up and then face the door. What is going to happen there? My heartbeat increases and I start to sweat. I tell myself, “Everything will be okay. Just step inside and everything will be okay. You can do this, Emily.”