| Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1, and Google Gemini Pro, powered by Lyria 3 |
Mandica awakens again, but not in a morgue drawer this time. She’s lying on
her back in a beautifully pleasant meadow. She has never felt so calm in her
life. Oh, that’s right. This isn’t life at all, but death. It feels oddly
familiar, even though she has certainly never been here before. Except
perhaps she has, after Morgana killed her a few months ago. That must be it.
This is where you go when you die, even if you die twice. It’s nice...a bit
boring, but at least she maintains a continuity of consciousness. “Oh, God,”
she says out loud. “This is exactly what the transhumanists are talking
about.” It’s probably not because they want to keep living. It’s because
they want to keep thinking. They don’t want their selves to end. And
who would? Her family was wrong. It—they had to be. There was no way they
could have known there was a legitimate afterlife. They took too much of a
gamble, and got incredibly lucky. No, she shouldn’t be so hasty in her
presumptions. She doesn’t know anything. This might not be an afterlife at
all. She absorbed Elysia’s powers, and while consciousness streaming isn’t
technically a special ability, she might have absorbed that trait too. Who
knows? She sure as shit doesn’t.
There’s rustling in the grass. A pair of bare feet are walking towards her.
They’re attached to bare legs. It’s a woman in a very short white tunic with
floral embellishments on the hem, just like Mandica’s. She’s smiling down at
her. “Welcome back.”
Mandica sits up. “I’ve been here before, but don’t remember.”
“It is rare that we have the opportunity to return someone to base reality,”
the kind woman begins, “but when we do, it is important to clear their
minds. The truth of what happens following death should not be revealed to
the still living. We could not handle the mass suicide which might ensue.”
Mandica stands now. “Will I be returning again? To...base reality?”
“There is no way for us to know. The technology that you use to resurrect
has nothing to do with us. We will facilitate the transition back if it’s
necessary. If this world did not exist, we believe you would still come back
to life. Pardon, I should reintroduce myself. My name is Ellie Underhill,
and this is the afterlife simulation.”
“Another simulation?” Mandica questions. “Like Underbelly?”
“Not like Underbelly. Walk with me.” She starts to wade through the tall
grass, smiling up at the sun with her eyes closed. “This is a virtual
construct. Years ago, I had the idea to eradicate death. I had not
considered the ramifications of the plan yet. I was not given the time to
explore the model before someone stole my idea, and implemented it himself.
Meeting you last time has sort of opened my eyes, but it cannot be undone.
I’m not going to shut it down now. True death has always been an
option, for the truly terrible and irredeemable, or for people like you, who
disagree with the artificiality on a philosophical level. You were digitized
from birth, and I understand now that this robbed you of consent. I suppose
that’s why Tamerlane stole my idea, because he knew I wouldn’t go through
with it after I thought about it for much longer. He took the responsibility
for the questionable ethics for himself, so I never had to shoulder the
burden. The choice is still yours. If that’s what you still want, I’ll zero
you out, and—”
“I’m not sure I want that anymore,” Mandica admits. “I’m starting to see
things in a new light. If this is a manmade simulation, that means there is
no real afterlife.”
“It does not mean that,” Ellie contends. “No one yet knows. It is that
uncertainty that led to the creation of this place. Those who choose Black
Oblivion do so at the risk of total consciousness cessation. We inform them
of the risks. It hasn’t happened in a long time. But before you try to make
a decision that may or may not be permanent, there are two people who would
like to speak with you.”
“Someone wants to meet me?” Mandica questions. Who could
that be?
“Yes. It took a lot, getting them here. You can’t hug them, but I made the
executive decision to create a window to the other side. I am glad that we
have this opportunity this time. We weren’t prepared before.” Why would she
want to hug them?
They’ve come across a giant tree. It is impossibly large. She only even
knows that it is a tree because of the bark, but from here, it
appears only as a wall, it’s so wide. How did she not see it before? It
towers all the way up into the clouds. A fog or cloud begins to swirl right
before them, against the face of the trunk. Once it settles, it does appear
as a window. Two people are on the other side of it. They are Mandica’s
mother, and her father. She runs up to them, but remembers what Ellie said.
“When you said I couldn’t hug them, was that a procedural rule, or a
physical impossibility?”
“The second one,” Ellie answers. “I would let you if I could, but they are
not in the simulation. This is kind of like a long-distance video call. I
won’t clarify the mechanism.”
Mandica turns back to her parents. “I’ve missed you. It’s been so long.”
“Longer for us,” her mother says. Oh, yeah, they died nearly 120 years ago.
Mandica places her hand upon the window. It just feels like bark. “I’m sorry
you’ve been waiting. I never wavered in my convictions.” She tilts her chin
away in shame. “Until recently. I think I might be immortal now, but not by
choice. I promise, I always planned on dying. I just...wanted to live a
different life before I did.”
“We’re not mad,” her father assures her. “In fact, it is you who should be
mad at us.” He pauses, appearing to feel his own shame. “We are the ones who
summoned you to Castlebourne. The world we are in now, it—”
“Careful,” Ellie warns. What the hell?
Mandica’s father sighs. “We were able to communicate back to base reality.
We regret our decisions to die. It worked out, but...we still don’t want
that for you. We should have held onto life so much tighter. We thought it
was only precious because it ended, but we were wrong. It’s precious only
for as long as you have. Once you lose it, it doesn’t mean anything. We
wanted you to transmit your mind to Castlebourne, and begin to stream your
consciousness, like most everyone else, not travel there physically.”
“But it obviously doesn’t matter,” Mandica argues. She gestures towards
Ellie. “Even the undigitized are evidently digitized.” She shakes her head.
“If this stone makes me go back, it will be tearing me away from you. Why
would I want that?”
“Because that’s where you belong,” her mother insists. “Where we are is not
hell, but it’s not exactly living either. We wish we could go back too. You
are an adult. You can find happiness on your own, and should. Whatever stone
you’re talking about is a gift. Don’t disrespect that. Let it do what it
does, and I hope you can forgive us for manipulating you. We just didn’t
want you to share our regret.”
Mandica’s back feels knotted. “I think it’s pulling me back. If you want me
to stay alive, I’m a dutiful daughter, so I will, but I’ll find a way to see
you again too. I love you.”
“We love you,” they say simultaneously. Then they disappear. It all
disappears.
Mandica resurrects in Reagan’s lair. She doesn’t know how or why, but she
has made a decision. She will accept her newfound immortality, and live a
life of adventure.
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