Jarlan nestled into the welcoming solitude of his bed for his first use of the Blindfold device. He’d spent the last several hours familiarizing himself with the instructions. Months of saving had brought him to this moment. It was one of the only morsels of assertion he’d had in months. It was time to utilize it.
The Blindfold was a device supposedly capable of manipulating the brain’s ability to create sensations. These sensations came in the form of a dream-like simulation. Everyone praised its revolutionary nature in the overcrowded pantheon of recent inventions. Its creators promised an unforeseen level of agency to its users. Jarlan didn’t need other people telling him how much he needed that. A glance at his bank account, list of contacts, or empty passport would explain his yearning for a sense of control. Now, he’d be generating his own experiences.
It was easy enough to operate. The design was a simple headset connected to a small keyboard. All Jarlan had to do was type in the experience he wanted. To ease the process of inputting prompts, the device accessed one’s memories while in use. He would, allegedly, have full control of himself while in the simulation. Something simple would do.
“I’m floating in the sky with balloon animals.”
And there he was, with a magnificent view and full authority over his own body. He flexed his fingers like an infant discovering them for the first time. The knee he had damaged at work felt better than at any point in his life. His trajectory followed his lead as he tilted from one side to another. His helium-filled companions drifted through the air alongside him. After what felt like a full day exploring his simulation, he awoke a mere two hours later in real-time. His vision blurred as his eyes met the drab colors of his bedroom. The dusty musk swept through his nostrils as the deafening silence lingered.
Well into the next day, he labored to find something special in his routine. His work…which caused his injury. The friends he’d meant to talk to…who hadn’t messaged him in months. The date he had earlier that week…who he was too scared to pursue. Nothing sufficed.
“I’m surfing an enormous wave off the coast of Mexico.”
“I’m hang gliding in the Amazon rainforest.”
A week’s worth of adventures swept through his mind within half a day, one session after another. He considered keeping it on throughout the night, but apparently it wasn’t the same as sleeping. The next day, the same pattern. Again and again. Jarlan realized it was often more fruitful to describe people differently than he remembered them.
“My father, candid and humble, returns home for an emotional reunion.”
“My ex, tall, 23, with long brown hair and an aura of disgust, delivers a sincere apology for dumping me.”
Jarlan began building a series of storylines in his simulations. The very stories he never thought he could have written in real life. No reason to talk to anyone he knew, a better version of them awaited him in the simulation. The companionship he lacked in life found him there. Dreams populated with the characters he thought he needed. Eventually, he had a hard time distinguishing between the simulations and his actual memories. Better that way, he thought. Hardly anything was worth remembering.
“I meet someone who takes a particular interest in me and we begin a trusting relationship.”
The days grew longer as he lamented the time he spent away from his virtual companions. The physical intimacy he’d never attained in life became a daily occurrence.
Jarlan knew there were things he couldn’t control. Each time he considered giving his life a second chance, he’d think of something better to simulate. Something without the unpredictability of other people. The privacy of the simulations let loose the emotions he had stifled over years. And he could do it all in the span of a dream. Every chance he got, he put the device to use. There was little reason to step outside, where he had no control. Surely life wouldn’t last forever.
“I find the man who stole my bike, medium height, scrawny, wearing ripped jeans and a white shirt, and corner him in an alley.”
“One of my former friends runs into me and explains why they abandoned me when I needed them most.”
“The world washes away in a violent flood as I stand unaffected on an island, free to observe.”
The Blindfold hardly ever left Jarlan’s tired face. Every experience he desired paraded through his mind at his earliest opportunity.
One day when his restlessness was at an all-time high, he realized how long it was taking him to develop new prompts. He couldn’t think of any sensation or scenario he hadn’t experienced a hundred times over. Reading the storylines he’d written down brought him no further emotion, no desire. The passionate embrace of his virtual lovers had faded.
Unwilling to acquiesce, Jarlan searched for something to plug the torment spilling in his mind. Something he, or anyone, had never experienced before. Something no one had ever been able to describe.
“Simulate the experience of death.”
He inputted the prompt and laid down. After all, what thrills did life still have for him? At least he wouldn’t know what awaited.
The soft buzzes of Jarlan’s room died as his world blackened. A form writhed within him as an expanse of thickening clouds manifested before his eyes. He was strapped to what looked like an airplane seat, in chaotic freefall.
Descending. Swirling. Unimpeded.
Oblivion!
A world without motivation, not even to claw at the excessively restrictive harnesses of his seat. A world without sensation, as even the violent winds ceased to berate him. An expanse of dim, unsensing consciousness, of silence and formless struggle.
A frivolous, immortal essence.
A being, shaved down to a lonely thread of ego.
Jarlan took some solace knowing the simulation would eventually end.
Surely a dream couldn’t last forever?