Dr. Jane Smith, a quantum computer scientist, with her husband and their two children, sat around a dining room table, eating a pizza she had ordered online.
"How was your day, honey?" Jane asked her husband.
"Oh, fine, but never enough time at work." Michael, her husband, an architect, grabbed a slice.
"Momma, I earned a ribbon at school today!" Julie, her daughter, proudly displayed it on her shirt.
"How come you always win stuff?" asked Bobby, her younger son.
"Bobby, don't be jealous ..." Jane shook her finger. "Your sister earned it. You should congratulate her."
"Yes, momma." Bobby stared at his plate before glancing up. "Congratulations, Julie."
"Thank you, Bobby!"
"Jules, remember to help Bobby with his homework tonight." Jane smiled.
"I have homework, too," Michael grumbled while flopping a pizza slice on his plate.
"Another all-nighter, dear?" Jane asked sad-face.
"Yes, I need to get some designs finished for an early morning presentation." Michael wiped his hands with a napkin and stood up. "If you'll all excuse me, I should get started now."
"Jules, are you and Bobby finished as well?"
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They both nodded.
"Very well, both of you brush your teeth. And Bobby, listen to your sister's advice."
The children kissed Jane on the cheek and went upstairs to study.
"Thanks for ordering the pizza. It was fun." Michael also kissed her and left.
"You're welcome, love, don't work too hard!" She winked.
Jane removed her headset, took her dinner plate, and a small pizza box to the kitchen, then stepped downstairs into the basement lab.
She shivered while inside the stasis chambers' super-chilled environment and a liquid-cooled quantum-processer-AI-driven virtual reality machine, labeled Guardian.
She physically checked cables and equipment and fondly gazed at her family's frosted faces through each of their chamber's upper viewing glass.
"Good evening, Jane."
"Hello, Guardian. Please play some classical music."
"Any particular composer or period, Jane?"
"Yes, something relaxing to help me sleep. And, please turn off the lights."
Chopin—Nocturne, Op. 9, No. 2—filled the darkened room.
Jane sat in a recliner, snuggled up under a thick blanket, leaned back, and closed her eyes.
"Guardian, what are the current lockdown orders?"
"Same as before, Jane. Stay inside at all times. Online ordering and delivery of food and supplies only. Must request authorization for any outside activity or pickups."
"How's my family's cryonic status?"
"Their vital signs are stable. Neural grid activity is within acceptable parameters."
"I'd like to see them."
On the ceiling, the Guardian projected multiple VR portals:
Jane watched as Julie helped Bobby with his homework while her husband diligently worked in his home office on blueprints. Her virtual avatar autonomously washed dishes in the kitchen as she remained disconnected.
"Guardian, what's the projected timeline for an antiviral or vaccine?"
"One moment, please, Jane. Retrieving ... Aggregating ... There's a 30% chance of a safe for humans antiviral treatment available within the next six months. Due to a high mutation rate, there's no predictable timeline for a vaccine."
"Alright, Guardian. Continue with the simulation—Everyday Life—make tomorrow's weather a warm, sunny summer day." Jane sighed. "Good night." She closed her eyes again.
"Sleep well, Jane."