Beneath the Cedars

I am not where I should be. That much is certain.

* * *

Numbers, divorced from context, stream before my eyes. The room is an exact copy of the Oxford Astrophysics and Astrogeophysics compiler lab, differing only in my mind because this one doesn't exist in real-space. Despite its rocky beginnings, my work has changed very little. I still monitor incoming data, which I presume from the increments to be either infra-red or near infra-red data from somewhere in the Local Group. I still experience a jolt when I come out of VR and back into my flat. I still have an irrational hatred of the green leather chair. Jesse comes and goes as he pleases. I am no longer aware of him in VR, but he's usually there when I finish my shift. I ask him about school, but he shrugs and changes the subject. I think he told me once about a few friends he had made.

It takes me three weeks to notice the lab door, and I am certain it has been there the whole time. Welson visits me in the lab intermittently, passing through my workday like a ghost. Occasionally, he stops and rests his hand on my shoulder or on the back of my neck, but if I turn to speak to him he drifts away. I learn not to react to his presence, though my body begins to crave his touch.

One afternoon, after sorting through an irregularity in one of the processors, I feel Welson's hand on the back of my neck. Steeling myself, I sit perfectly still and continue to glare at the columns of data. Two fingers trace down my spine. My breath catches in my throat. In that instant, the pressure disappears. Welson is gone, but I notice the lab door is ajar.

I finish the hour and a half left in my shift, but, instead of unplugging, I try the lab door. It opens into a narrow grey hallway. The hallway stretches as far as I can see, but a shaded indentation to the left indicates another doorway. Heart pounding unevenly, I move quickly to the door and press it away from me. The door opens into my flat. A shuddering sigh of relief. Another way to unplug from VR, I surmise. Jesse nowhere in sight and, listening, I hear no sounds of his presence. A scribbled note on the glass coffee table explains he is spending the night in a friend's flat. I smile, eat, and go to bed. Rolling over as I hurry towards sleep, I am vaguely aware of something hard and round in the pocket of my nightgown. Shifting so that I am no longer on top of it, I forget in the even drift of sleep.

Next morning. Jesse still not in. I slept as a dead thing and have trouble escaping the haze of sleep. I dress out of habit and shuffle over to the green leather chair. At the speed of thought and the slight twitch of my head to one side, I am back in the lab. I feel no inclination to begin work. Instead, I try the lab door and find it open. Moving down the hallway, I pass the door to my flat and continue on. Minutes pass in the grey expanse. With some relief, I spot a door to the right. I press at the door with my hand.

I am back in Welson's office, though no Welson greets me. Instead, a woman of indeterminate middle age stares back at me.

"Where's Welson?"

The woman smiles, more of a grimace laced with irony.

"Welcome, Dulcinea Carew. It is a pleasure to see you face to face. Welson is just a construct. The man you knew probably exists somewhere, but our Welson is nothing more than a collection of code."

I reel with shock, causing the room to blur around the edges. I clutch at the desk in front of me.

"But...."

"We determined that you would respond most favourably to a father figure."

"Why..."

"Out of a million test subjects, you fit the psychological profile exactly. You have the education and the emotional, well, impetus to work in our VR lab."

"But I had no..."

"The work you do is high priority. We do not trust that to ordinary hiring procedures. And, you have some expensive equipment to pay off."

"But I didn't want..."

"Think about it, Dulcinea Carew. If we had offered this position to you in exchange for living expenses, salary, education for your son, and the CICI plug, would you have said yes? I don't see a problem."

The office winks out of existence. I am left standing in the grey hallway.

Jenna Manley, 07/08/01

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