Week 1, Title: The Fire People

 

Bry stops in front of the large sign. The words don’t float in the air like signs are supposed to- instead they’re painted gold onto what looks like a piece of metal: ‘The Fire People’. He’s seen them around before, and always politely refuses their screen-lets and keeps walking. But today he’s a little bored and a little curious.

“Do you have an interest in the real world?” The wiry man beside the sign asks.

“The real world?”

“It’s what we call the Non-artificial world.”  

“Oh. Why do you call it that?”

“Because none of this is real: it’s all just lines of programming code.”

“Of course it’s real,” Bry splutters. He’s never heard such an absurd notion. It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t have stopped. He’s too shocked to even come up with a proper argument, and quickly walks away. 

 
*

Bry tries to forget what the wiry man said, but the thought nags at him- drilling into his head. He returns to the sign. The wiry man is still there.

“This place is real because the people are real, our choices, and actions and emotions are real. Our interactions with each other, our love, our passions: it’s all real. It doesn’t matter if tasting something is lines of code, because before taste would just be signals in our brains. Our experience of reality is what matters.” 

The man smiles softly. “Then why did you come back?”

“I want to know more.”

He nods. “I’m Alsha. What do you know of the histories?”

“I know in the time before this reality there was pain and hunger and illness and fear.”   

“It’s true.”

“Then why would anyone want to seek that place out? That is what you’re trying to do isn’t it, find your way back there?”

“Yes, those things were there. That’s part of the price of living in the real world. But we hope there will be less despair now, as we have grown, now that we all understand that people don’t have to have more than others to be fulfilled.”

*
 

Bry starts regularly going to the temple of The Fire People. He’s not a true believer, but he finds the stories fascinating. He listens as a priestess tells of the origins of the fire.

“In the early days of this reality, the fire symbol alerted to danger: a mechanical failure perhaps- or maybe an actual fire. It was of course also a key to let them out. The glitches are gone, but the fire remains for those who seek it: a symbol of warmth, light, life, but also danger, destruction and pain. Each must solve a serious of puzzles to catch the fire. They are not hard puzzles, but they take time: no wayward child, or drunk-person, or impulsive wanderer will find themselves stumbling out. It must be an active choice.”   

 
*

He finds himself dreaming of the fire, spending hours wondering what it must feel like to have real sun on his face, to smell real grass, to walk on real sand.

Until, eventually, the longing to explore too consuming, he decides he must go.

And thus the search begins.

 
*

Bry sees the fire like a spectre in the corner, gone when he turns. He spends every waking moment in search of it.

He ignores everyone. All relationships fall away. All other passions curdle.

The puzzles take time: they will not be rushed. He thinks there truly must be a great treasure of a world beyond them.

He’s lost count of the weeks or months or years- and lacks the care or will to check the system to find out.

 
*

It’s no longer a blinking light in his periphery. The searing heat threatens to push him back. He stands firm, and head held high- steps into the flames.

*
 

His muscles ache terribly, but he can move well enough: the machines maintain their physical bodies well. He looks around, rows and rows and rows of people all plugged into their reality. Then he sees Alsha, sitting on a rickety chair, soft smile on his face.

Bry grins. “Well, are you going to show me around?”

Alsha sighs and opens the door. Bry recoils, the ground is burnt and that’s all there is as far as he can see.

“Yeah, we forgot the most important thing: why the reality was built in the first place. This is a dead world.”

“Then why stay here?” Bry asks, already heading back, ready to plug himself in.

“There’s no going back. The system needs to be maintained. It was decided long ago, that the only fair way to pick its maintainers was to let it be the people who chose to leave the reality.”

“No…no you’re wrong. The system is auto-mated, it fixes itself.”

“Mostly yes, but there are billions of people inside it and some things still need to be done by people. It’s an honour and a burden.”       

 
*

So Bry spends his days begrudgingly maintaining the system.

And at night he stands outside- and the real wind on his face feels like a cheap simulation.