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The Freelancer's Testament
PROLOGUE [PART THREE]

PROLOGUE [PART THREE]

PROLOGUE [PART THREE]

The 'Real' World

202X

It’s not very fair, but they don’t have to be. Maybe that’s why I was chosen. Not because of any particularly striking quality. Maybe it’s because they know I’m careless, impulsive, and desperate enough to do this. There will be no good byes. No final I love yous. Even so, when I think back to the final moments I had with everyone, they don’t seem so bad now. A lot of good lucks, do your best, and you’ll do wells. They might have been saying it with the intention of seeing me again, with only propriety at the forefront of their mind, but even so, those were fitting parting words, weren’t they? I hoped they’d be able to move on without me. A part of me wishes I could tell them not to waste time being sad, that I was in a better place, although that part of me well recognizes there’s no guarantee this other place will be any better, even with godhood at my fingertips. Ha. Weren’t the odds that they’d be worst? At least I would get the answer to that lifelong dilemma: was I just a failure to begin with? Ultimately, I knew if I said no, I’d never be able to live on not regretting the decision. I questioned the ethics of the offer. I questioned even it’s authenticity. I could be making a terrible decision, not just because the grass may not be greener, but because this may all be a lie to begin with. But I didn’t want to live regretting this chance.

I signed the contract, and I could feel my heart stop hammering against my chest at last. My back was no longer tense. I stopped clenching my teeth. I could finally… relax. Though, even in that relaxation, I wondered if this was the last time I would ever feel sensations in this particular way ever again. What would it be like to be technically bodiless? To be only data? I suppose there was no backing down now, but that didn’t prevent me from imagining a sudden panic attack and escape attempt.

“I’m glad you’ve accepted the offer.”

“What’s the process for all of this? Is it happening today?”

“Precisely. Time passes faster, much faster, within this universe we’ve created, relative to our time.”

“Well, I guess that doesn’t matter if I’m never coming back.”

“It does, and it doesn’t. The other candidates who have agreed have already begun the process, or even completed the process, of transferring themselves. We have no way to judge how fast they will act once they finish transference. You’ve made the commitment, so it’s your decision. We can allow you twenty-four hours before we begin the process, or we can begin it as soon as you’re prepared.” How generous.

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“Just a question. What would happen if I changed my mind?”

“There is no changing your mind. You signed the contract.”

“Right. I guess I can surmise what that means.”

She said nothing.

“Yeah, fuck it. There’s no sense in delaying it. I’ve spent enough time on this largely shitty planet. Lead on.”

She stood up, placing the contract within a folder.

“This way. It won’t be long.”

She led us down a walkway between half-empty office cubes, and fully-empty offices to the elevator. She said nothing as we went the lengthy journey down, which didn’t bother me much. She wouldn’t answer any question I had, and small talk had never been my forte, or something I enjoyed partaking in either way. If I was dying, then any sense of maintaining formality was useless at this point. The elevator bell eventually rang and the door opened several floors underground. The hallway here was narrower, and emptier, likely not frequented all that often. Every door was locked behind several layers of security, not unlike a government building or a bank.

We stopped at one of those doors, and the interviewer proceeded to scan a card, imprint a code, and scan her finger before the door lock clicked and she held it open, gesturing for me to go in.

The room inside was sparse, but for an enclosed bed with thick wires expanding out from it and through a closed box on one end of the room. There was also a window, though whoever could see through it, could not be seen from within. There were people there, I guessed, watching. Others had gone before me, she’d claimed. I hoped that was true.

“Maybe I should’ve asked if it’ll hurt beforehand.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t get a chance to ask.” That wasn’t very comforting. “But I have a hard time imagining dying as a painless affair,” she finished.

“I don’t like being in pain.”

She smiled, once more, all too briefly. “We know.” She gestured towards the bed. “You can lay down.”

A part of me was afraid she’d ask me to strip before entering the pod.

“So, did any of you guys - you know, whoever made this thing, did any of you guys decide to do this too? To give up your life here, to live in… a simulation?”

“I can’t answer that. Anymore questions before we begin?”

“Is there some vital question I should’ve asked and you can answer but I didn’t?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Ah, so this was more of a ‘any last words’ kinda question?”

“You’ll have more words.”

“Some version of me will, at least. Whatever you’re able to extract.”

She said nothing.

“Well, then. I guess I’m good. Uhm. Thanks?”

She smiled again, and I went to lay on the pod. It was comfortable. It made me think of my bed. And the fact that I’d never lay in it again.

“Enjoy your new existence,” she said.

The pod slowly closed.

I wasn’t sure what to think then. How long would it take? Was this all a mistake? I was killing myself. I was giving away my life. I didn’t know what awaited me. Maybe only blackness. Even if this all succeeded, it’d be a copy of me surviving in a computer, wouldn’t it? That wouldn’t be me. It’d be someone else. Just data of me. This is me. No, no point think about that now. No thinking about the people I would be leaving behind, either. I wanted this. It would work. And if it didn’t, at least don’t let it be painful. That’s all I’m asking. Don’t let it be painful.

The pod’s transparent top covered itself in a metal sheet.

“Wai-”

And all was black.