Love Vs. Illusion

by MJ Rodgers

“You can hear me?”

  Clarise smiled. “Of course I can hear you. What fun would a fantasy be if no one in it could hear and interact with you? The selections are just through these doors. Follow me.”

  “It feels like I’m walking. How can I be walking? I’m lying on a mattress.”

  “Yes. Your body is lying on a special fiber-optic mattress hooked up to a computer that is providing you with this program. The computer interacts with the nerve endings throughout your body to simulate a sense of touch and movement to conform with what you’re seeing and hearing.”

  “It’s incredible. I could swear I’m walking.”

  “I’m glad you’re impressed. We’re rather proud of our technological advancements. Come on. It’s time to look at your choices.”

  A.J. trailed the VR-simulated Clarise through the swinging double doors behind the counter and entered a hallway full of light. The walls on either side were decorated with five-by-seven-foot travel posters depicting different scenes. A.J. paused at the first, its sparkling colors immediately catching her eye. Clarise also stopped.

  Before A.J. was a poster of a smiling woman standing in front of a glass door with glistening lights behind it. “What’s behind that glass door?” A.J. asked.

  “It’s a beauty mall with all sorts of wonderful shops. From one you will emerge with perfect makeup. Another, the most flattering hairstyle. In another you will be dressed in the world’s most beautiful clothes. And still another will provide you with exquisite jewelry to wear. Would you like to experience a sample of this program?”

  A.J. shook her head as she backed away. “No, I don’t wear makeup and I’m not one who follows fashion, as you can see.”

  She shoved her hands into the pockets of her loose, comfortable double-knit slacks. She was surprised to find that they, too, had been perfectly simulated in this VR environment. She could even feel the wad of lint stuck at the back of her left pocket.

  “How did you know about the lint?” A.J. asked.

  “What lint?”

  “The lint in my pocket.”

  “You expected it to be in your pocket, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but-”

  “That’s why it’s there.”

  “This is all in my mind, isn’t it?”

  “Everything we sense—in the real world or in a VR simulation—is in our mind,” Ingram said. “Our sight, hearing, touch, taste, all the nerve endings in our body feed our mind in order for it to make sense out of our experiences.”

  “But this hallway, these posters, you—the details are so perfect, the colors and textures so vibrant and clear. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not really seeing and hearing what I think I’m seeing and hearing. How is all this possible?”

  “Although a VR experience has no physical form outside its computer simulation, you, the user, will bring to it a lifetime of memories that will help it to seem real to you.”

  “So you’re saying it’s my own ability to imagine that makes a VR experience seem real?”

  “Yes. A computer program can only suggest the basic outline and form. It’s the interpreting mind that gives that outline clarity and that form substance.”

  “Then this—what I’m seeing and feeling and hearingis part of my own creation?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “That’s…so strange.”

  “Why should you think so? You’ve participated in such creations many times.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you read a book, don’t you become partners with the author, helping her story to come alive in your mind?”

  “Well, I suppose in a way I do.”

  “In a big way. The life and meaning your mind gives her words will never be the same as another person who reads her story. Your interpretation will always remain uniquely yours because you are unique. It’s the same with a VR experience. Any selection we offer our patrons is programmed exactly the same way, yet no two people will ever experience it the same way. Each will customize it.”

  “Even this program? The one we’re in now?”

  “But of course. Virtual reality is totally interactive. Every question you ask customizes the response you receive.”

  “Amazing.”

  “What about stepping into a fictional work? Becoming the fiery Scarlett O’Hara in our Old South program is a favorite among our female guests. Or perhaps you’d like to be the lovely Guinevere and have both King Arthur and Lancelot pursue you?”

  “No, thanks,” A.J. said as she walked past the posters. “I’m not exactly the romantic-heroine type. That’s Winston Churchill, isn’t it?” she asked as she approached another poster.

  “Yes,” Ingram said. “He’s standing on a balcony above the tumultuous crowds gathered in Whitehall. He’s about to announce the end of hostilities with Germany. It’s three o’clock on May 8, 1945, a historic occasion. And you can be there to see it, to hear it, to celebrate the joyful news in the streets with the happy crowds.”

  “No, I don’t think-”

  “All of earth’s history is available for visiting. Authentic history, accurate to the smallest nuance of custom. You can be in Caesar’s Rome or in Egypt under the pharaohs. You can watch while the pyramids are being built. You can visit earth during the Jurassic era and see a dinosaur egg hatch. Or, if something less ancient is more appealing, you can be in the old West and witness the showdown at the O.K. Corral. Your VR passport can take you to any place in history. Any culture. Any time.”

  “I don’t mind reading about history, but I’m not much of a fan of going back into it, particularly not an authentic rendition of it.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “I’m too practical. I like the improved medicine, sanitation, communications and opportunities for women in this time. Our present has its problems, but the past was riddled with a great many more serious ones, particularly if you were a woman stuck with its restrictions. What does this poster of an eagle flying over a canyon represent?”

  “That soaring eagle represents endless possibilities.”

  “That’s intriguing. What does it mean?”

  “One of the main features of this program is its mystery. Feel like trying a sample?”

  A mystery? Definitely the most appealing program so far. “What do I do?” A.J. asked.

  “Just focus on the scene.”

  A.J. didn’t find that hard to do. The beautiful bald eagle with the widespread wings was a majestic creature. Such beauty. Such power. Such freedom.

  It happened so quickly, it left A.J. breathless. One instant she was standing in front of the poster. The next she was soaring above that red-rocked canyon just like the eagle had been.

  Her body was light as air, buffeted by the air currents. Her vision was incredible. The sun felt warm and wonderful on her back. The wind felt refreshing and cool as it rushed against her cheeks, rustled her hair, lifted her arms.

  Only when she looked at her arms did she discover they weren’t arms at all, but wings, enormous glistening dark brown wings. She was an eagle!

  She laughed. How wonderful to feel what it was like to be an eagle! In the interminable time she had spent in the hospital as a child, she had often daydreamed about flying, longing to be up in the clouds that had passed by her window.

  And now here she was! But those daydreams had never been as good as this. This was so…real. So gloriously real!

  “Now what’s a nice private investigator like you doing in a place like this?”

  A.J.’s eyes darted right, startled at hearing Zane’s distinctive deep voice. And there he was, keeping pace with her. Only now he, too, was an eagle. Still, she would have known that hard glint in those anthracite eyes anywhere.

  “I’m in a fantasy. How can you be here, too?”

  “I’m your unshakable shadow, remember?”

  A.J. tried to ignore the excitement and confusion his words were causing her. She dove to greet some running mustangs in the canyon below.
Soon she was flying above a long-legged bay filly with a mane and tail the color of midnight. She was beautiful. Powerful. Swift.

  And in the next instant, A.J. felt the power and speed soaring through her and knew that she had become that filly, her hoofs pounding the canyon floor.

  She had always loved horses. And now to be one, to experience the freedom of flight as they must know it, to feel the incredible power in her muscles as she raced down the lovely red-rocked canyon faster than the wind—it was glorious, exciting, exhilarating, real!

  The canyon floor was narrowing ahead. Soon it would be only wide enough for one horse to get through. A.J. nosed ahead of the pack.

  In her peripheral vision she saw a big black stallion draw up, his mane standing straight up as his powerful legs pounded like cannons beside her. He began to edge ahead.

  She flashed him a glance and recognized Zane’s eyes staring at her. So, here he was again. And he wanted to race.

  The feeling of speed and power was so overwhelming that A.J. suddenly felt she could do anything she wanted. And what she wanted was to win this race.

  She pushed ahead with a new burst of speed, determined to get to the narrow canyon opening first. Zane stayed with her, neck to neck, nose to nose. Her excitement grew as she called on her powerful new body to come through. And it responded. At the very last second, she leaped ahead, leaving Zane in the dust.

  A.J.’s laughter bubbled up and up and suddenly, once again, she was flying. Higher and higher she shot into the sky until the canyon was nothing but a tiny blur beneath her. She looked heavenward as she streaked with the ease and speed of a rocket.

  She glanced at her body. She was a rocket! A slim, sleek silver rocket pointed heavenward. The sky’s colors turned from blue to deep purple to black as she hurled from the earth’s atmosphere into space.

  This was speed as she had never imagined! And beauty. Such incredible beauty!

  A silvery moon rose to greet her. She landed on its surface as softly as a moonbeam. She looked at her hands and found they were hands once more. Beneath her feet was a powdery gray dust. Above her was the absolute quiet and endless limits of a diamond-black space.

  Then a strange and glorious music reached her ears, and she knew at once that it was a symphony no one had ever heard before because it had just been composed by the stars.

  “Look there,” Zane’s voice said from behind her as she felt the warm insistence of his hand cup her shoulder.

  Her eyes followed his pointing finger and she found herself looking back to see the earth, so large it took up half the sky. Then as she watched, the earth turned from bright blue to ebony as it eclipsed the sun and donned a flame-red halo.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Not bad,” Zane said.

  She turned to face him. His skin glowed red in the reflected light of the eclipsed sun and his dark hair flew about his face, blown by a solar wind.

  “Not bad?” she repeated. “It was spectacular, glorious, the stuff dreams are made of!”

  His mouth drew into that combative smile as his arms circled her waist. “Wait until you see what I dream.”

  Her heart began to beat very deep and very fast at that coal-hot glow in the center of his eyes.

  “So, I can see you liked that sample,” Clarise’s voice said suddenly.

  A.J. blinked, startled to find Zane gone and the program customizer beside her. She looked around and realized she was standing once more in the travel-bureau corridor of Fabulous Fantasies. She faced the poster before her. It no longer showed a soaring eagle but depicted that last scene she had glimpsed with Zane—the earth eclipsing the sun from the vantage point of the moon.

  “That was incredible,” she said as she exhaled a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding.

  “I was sure you liked it. All the right synapses were firing.”

  Clarise’s words jolted A.J. She turned to face the programmer once again. “Wait a minute. You’re monitoring my reactions?”

  “How else can we match you to the right program?”

  A.J. felt a chilling alarm shoot through her.

  Until that second, that very second, she had not fully realized how powerful virtual reality could be.

  Or how dangerous.

  Chapter Seven

  “I understand your discomfort,” Clarise said, continuing to read A.J.’s responses. “But we only want to know what suits you. Don’t worry about our telling anyone. You get complete confidentiality at Fabulous Fantasies.”

  Worrying about Clarise telling anyone her preferences was the last thing on A.J.’s list of concerns at the moment. She put a clamp on her emotions and deliberately shifted her focus.

  “There was someone with me in the fantasy. How did that happen?”

  “It happened because you wanted it to happen. That’s what fantasies are all about.”

  A.J. sighed as she remembered how good it felt to beat Zane in that race and to see him look at her with the kind of heat that could melt even a solar flare.

  “I am very confused.”

  Clarise smiled. “All you need is your imagination to have a wonderful time at Fabulous Fantasies. We supply everything else. Follow me back to the counter and I’ll go ahead and order your customized disks for the Mysterious Adventure Series that you just picked.”

  “No, wait,” A.J. said. She’d gotten so caught up in this VR thing she had nearly forgotten why she was here. “I’d like to see what else you have to offer.”

  “But it’s so obvious this program is the one that—”

  “It was great, yes. But I’m the kind of person who wants to know all my choices before I decide.”

  “Very well,” Clarise said, “We have fifty different VR programs. Let’s walk the corridor and look at some more.”

  “Someone said that the Femme Fatale selection was very good. Which poster is that one?”

  “That was the first poster we passed, the one of the woman entering the beauty mall. But you’re clearly a woman who takes her thrills in a more individualized, action-oriented type of experience. The Femme Fatale program is geared to the woman who enjoys a more traditional fantasy.”

  “Like hairstyle, makeup, dressing up in beautiful clothes?”

  “And fabulous jewelry. And seeing oneself in the perfect body of one’s imaginings.”

  “And the purpose of all that?”

  “The very fact that you have to ask tells me how unsuitable the program is for you.”

  “I’d still like to understand.”

  “Well, many women want to be as young and thin and beautiful as a Miss America. That’s the image society sells as most desirable, and they want to know what it feels like to have that image and to watch how their love interests respond.”

  “They just want to be seen as beautiful and wearing beautiful things? That’s all?”

  “It’s much more than that. Youth, beauty and style are all equated with a sense of self-confidence and power for women just as muscles, money and position are equated as self-confidence and power for men.”

  A.J. shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. The traits of intelligence, kindness, integrity, loyalty—those are far more important.”

  Clarise’s hands came up in surrender. “Please, you’re preaching to the saved. I couldn’t agree more. But pick up any magazine, men’s or women’s, and see who is on the cover. It’s either a young, beautiful, stylish woman or a muscled, moneyed or high-positioned man. These images are pushed on us all. As I’ve said, this program is obviously not right for you.”

  “Answer me this, Clarise. What do these women hope to get out of the Femme Fatale program?”

  “For once in their lives, these average women want to experience what it’s like to have the power of youth, spectacular beauty and style while mixing with the men in their lives, or with fantasy men, if they like.”

  “All right. Order me that program.”

>   “You’re not serious.”

  A.J. reminded herself that her reactions were being monitored. Any response she gave Clarise would have to have the right emotion underlying it.

  Which meant that, like it or not, she was going to have to reveal a part of herself.

  “I was sick as a child, Clarise. When I finally got well, all I could think about was making my body strong and catching up with my schoolwork. When the teenage years hit, I tried the makeup and fashion bit for a while, but I never could look like a model. So I stopped trying. Maybe that’s why when it comes to this glamour thing, I’ve never fit in.”

  “But you know this glamour thing, as you call it, is superficial and shallow.”

  “I also know that the only time I ever fell in love, my fiancé ran off with a much more glamorous woman just before our wedding.”

  “How terrible for you,” Clarise said, sounding like she meant it.

  “It wasn’t much fun at the time,” A.J. said, surprised to find how much hurt still underlay her words. “But I was lucky. Some women have it happen after the wedding.”

  “Is that why you want to go through this program? So you can show that ex-fiancé of yours what he missed out on?”

  “No, I’d just as soon never see Pete again—or a re-Pete in a VR fantasy. But maybe it would be fun to feel what it’s like to be a beautiful woman.”

  “Well, I’m going to have to insist on your trying at least a sample first,” Clarise said. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure you’ll enjoy your selection.”

  “I understand. Where’s the poster?”

  “Right here.”

  And so it was, although A.J. could have sworn that a second ago the poster next to them had portrayed an entirely different scene. But then again, she reminded herself, this was virtual reality—where anything was possible.

  An exciting thought. And a damn scary one, too.

  “Now just stare at the woman entering the beauty mall,” Clarise said. “And imagine what it might be like to be her.”

  A.J. did, and within an instant she could feel her hand opening the door. A sparkling array of salons and boutiques spread out before her. She began to walk down the aisle and gaze into the windows.