Sleep as a replicant was an “interesting” experience to say the least.

Upon waking up, I didn’t feel particularly rested, I didn’t feel groggy, I didn’t feel ANY difference in the state of my mind or body that I would normally feel after waking up from a nap. It was as if I’d just closed my eyes to blink, and when I opened them, 4 hours of time had instantly passed by.

I suppose this is how my FAITH-owned roving predecessors felt when their matrices were erased, minus the waking up part of course. The thought of my cloned consciousnesses being unceremoniously wiped from existence without warning sent a shiver down my spine, and gave me goosebumps. But, at least it had likely been an instant and painless “death”.

That’s when it occurred to me, I could actually feel the simulated arrector pili in the individual hair follicles of my avatar’s arms contract, resulting in the subtle appearance of small bumps across my digital skin.

These virtual avatars were a truly REMARKABLE feat of software engineering. If the true circumstances of my existence hadn’t been revealed to me earlier, I could’ve easily gone on believing I was still alive and this was my actual body. When I looked up the history of the NERVE unit in the database, it suddenly made sense why there had been such careful attention to detail given to the VR and avatars.

The designer of the NERVE device was actually a replicant from the U.S.E.! Jonathan Philips, a former coding savant and engineer, was apparently one of a few dozen remaining replicants on Earth whose consciousness managed to survive “The Great Purge”. While his list of post-mortem patents was vast, his magnum opus was by far the NERVE unit. Mr. Philips worked in coordination with a handful of living researchers and volunteers, and developed the device to improve the lives of other replicants like himself.

He had also hoped this creation would encourage others to consider undergoing replication at the end of their lives. Why not build your own VR heaven, right? Well apparently witnessing almost every active replicant matrix in existence being simultaneously erased without warning had led to replication being a widely unpopular procedure in the collective eyes of humanity.

Now despite being made of ones and zeros, I still knew embarrassingly little about coding. It wasn’t like I was a total layman. I’d learned the basics of BASIC back in high-school, along with some low-level Python during my master’s to help me process massive spreadsheets of isotopic data, but I was mostly screwed without an example or how-to guide of some kind.

I focused my thoughts, and like magic, a small tablet device appeared in my hands bearing my collection of growing to-do lists. That neat little trick would never get old. I created a new list, aptly titled “Stuff I Should Finally Learn”, and added “CODING” to the top of it in all caps.

That got me thinking…

Theoretically, I was now immortal, provided I could keep myself powered up. Pair that with the fact I’d just been given open access to humanity’s collective knowledge, and that I seemingly no longer required sleep, and my mind started to race at the thought of the limitless possibilities. Thankfully, I was quickly pulled out of that rabbit hole when a message from Calum popped up on the tablet I was working with.

“Morning Sam. The ExoPONIE is done printing, and I’ve just integrated access to a small observation drone into your NERVE. Let me know whenever you're ready and we can get started on your training!”, read the message.

I was eager to meet my new steed, and to get my first real look at my new home. I quickly replied to the message, and instantly a virtual prompt appeared before me. I reached out and pressed the large red button marked “EXIT VR”, and my perspective suddenly shifted.

With the help of Neera, I had previously been hanging out in a copy of the “stock photo” office I’d received my orientation in, but suddenly I found myself seated on a workbench within a small circular room; the engineering workshop I’d originally been found in.

I had assumed I would’ve found myself disembodied after exiting the VR space, but from my perspective my avatar was literally sitting on the benchtop, presumably in the same spot as my actual cubic form.

I looked up to see Calum, a large young man, across the room standing over another workstation, tinkering with some sufficiently futuristic-looking device I didn’t recognize. Calum wasn’t “fat” per se, just a genuinely LARGE person, standing at about 6’4”, with a headful of short bright red hair and a well-kept beard to match.

I wasn’t short, standing at about 6 feet tall myself, but the extra 4 inches made a surprising difference. Okay, if I’m being totally honest, I was actually 5’11”, not 6 feet, a fact that had haunted me all of my life. I wonder if I could add that extra inch to my avatar. And if that was possible, why stop at 6 feet? A cool 7 feet should be more than sufficient, right?

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I moved to stand up from the bench, but found my ass firmly glue to the surface, resulting in me kicking my legs out in frustration.

“Uh, hello?”, I said, unsure if anyone could actually hear my voice.

Calum perked up at the sound, and quickly swiveled his chair around to look straight toward the bench I was seated on.

He didn’t quite meet my gaze, in fact he was seemingly staring at my crotch from my view, but regardless, it was clear he had heard me speak.

“Sam? Is that you mate?”, he asked in something reminiscent of an English accent, perhaps weakly Scottish?

“The one and only!”, I said, instantly recognizing the morose irony of my response.

“Grand! Let me just put these on so we can formally meet!”, said Calum with a grin.

He walked over to the bench I was seemingly glued to, grabbed a small pair of tinted glasses off the bench next to me and put them on. At first glance they appeared to be simple sunglasses, but upon closer inspection it was clear these were not some cheap pair of Raybans. Calum quickly double-tapped the right side of the glasses, and “POOF”, they disappeared, at least from my point-of-view.

“Nice to finally meet you face-to-face!”, said Calum in a cheerful tone

He was now making direct eye contact with me, which clued me into the purpose of his new accessory.

It was some sort of “augmented reality” device, one which apparently allowed him to see my avatar. Damn, the future was cool.

“So how are those peripherals treating you? Can you see alright?”, said Calum looking me up and down.

“Everything is working fine from my point-of-view, except I’m starting to feel a little like a kid at the pediatrician.”, I said, looking down at the bench my avatar was somewhat awkwardly seated on.

Calum stifled a laugh, and brought up his wrist as if to check a watch. A small floating screen appeared above his arm, and he used his free hand to tap a few virtual buttons.

“This should help with that.” he said in a confident tone, while slowly walking backward until he was a few feet away.

“Alright Sam. Let’s take a walk!”, said Calum, clearly waiting for my reaction.

I moved to stand up, and was surprised to find that my avatar’s feet were now planted firmly on the floor. This change of perspective revealed a matrix on the benchtop where I’d just been sitting, with a small pyramid-shaped NERVE unit placed on top of it like a weird little party hat.

“Woah.” I said with my mouth hanging wide open, slowly turning in place to take in my surroundings. I was officially mobile, but how?

“So… How am I here”, I said pointing to myself, “and there?”, I said, moving my hand to point toward the matrix neatly seated on the workbench behind me.

“Ah. Right. That lovely little paradox is probably better witnessed than explained.”, said Calum, again fiddling with the virtual screen attached to his wrist.

Another window appeared next to me, seemingly showing a live video feed from the perspective of Calum’s now invisible glasses.

Instead of my avatar, the video feed showed a small spherical drone levitating in the same spot I was supposedly standing. I moved side to side, up and down, back and forth, and the softball-sized floating camera matched my every move in perfect sync.

“Pretty neat, right?”, said Calum, obviously happy with his own handiwork.

“Pretty neat is an understatement, Calum.” I said, still watching the drone mimic the movements of my avatar’s head beat for beat.

“So how about that walk then?”, he said while turning to make his way toward the room’s airlock.

I walked across the room to join him at the airlock, and he began dawning a surprisingly minimalist-looking pressure suit. It was nothing like the hulking examples used during my time, honestly it looked more like a wet-suit than a space suit. However, given the apparent advances in tech over the last century and a half, such as my weird little floating eyeball drone friend, I had no doubt the suit was more than effective.

“Thankfully, it’s relatively warm down here, so the suit’s internal heaters don’t use nearly as much juice in the tubes as they do up-top.” Calum said pointing up toward the ceiling.

“The atmosphere outside this room isn’t breathable, at least not yet.” said Calum while moving to put on his helmet.

“We’re actually hoping you might be able to help us with that little project, given your previous line of work. You must know a thing or two about lava tubes, right?”, asked Calum.

“Uh, YEAH! I know more than a few things about lava tubes!”, I said, unable to hide my excitement at the prospect of the project.

“That’s great doc, we need all the help we can get right now.”, he said in a lower tone, emphasizing the point.

“Now let’s go meet the rest of the team! And get you properly acquainted with your new ride!”, he said, stepping through the first airlock door.

“Soooo, I’m assuming I don’t need a suit, right?”, I said, already knowing the answer.

“You’re good to go mate! Just one of the many perks of no longer being a bag of meat like me!”, he responded in a joking tone.

“Could you walk me through how to use some of these ‘perks’ after my PONIE training?”, I asked.

“Of course mate! You’ve got some seriously hardcore hardware built into that little box of yours, and I’d be happy to help you find your benchmarks!”, Calum said, clearly excited at the prospect of putting my hardware to the test.

Once we were both inside the airlock and the internal door had closed behind us, the small airlock started to glow with a series of flashing red lights as it began to depressurize.

Once the cycle was complete, the external door slowly swung open to reveal the dimly lit lava tube I now called home.

Time to check out my new digs, and time to meet the rest of my new crewmates “face-to-face”.