Read by Miranda Harrison
The angry burr of a helicopter landing alerts me that I will soon have a visitor. Only the top brass at the company travel in this manner, so I do my best in the time I have to tidy the lab.
I get things just about respectable when the CEO bursts through the door, the heavy black mascara around her eyes failing utterly to hide her fury. Only the giant shoulder pads on her powersuit and the sheer volume of hair seemed to be weighing her anger down enough to contain it.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demands angrily, waving my latest report in my face.
That’s the thing with corporate management. They don’t appreciate science. They don’t understand that a negative result is as revealing in its own way as a positive one. I keep quiet though, this probably isn’t the time for a debate on the intricacies of the scientific method.
She pulls at a few of the pages for dramatic effect, “I cannot believe what you are telling me here. More delays?”
I put my glasses on, in the hope that it will make any answer I eventually give seem more intellectual. But I let her rant on, to get it all out her system.
“Just what is that we pay you for?” She gestures at all the vast expensive lab equipment around me. “Do you think we indulge you all this FOR FUN?”
I know that question is rhetorical, but it seems wise to shake my head at this point. As if to say, No ma’am. We don’t do fun. Certainly not here at Global MegaFun Incorporated!
Finally she gets to a question that requires answering “So why after all these billions are we now facing yet more delays on ‘The Project’?”
I take a deep breath. Of course, if she’d actually read my report she wouldn’t have needed to ask that question. But that’s senior management for you – first paragraph, last paragraph, fume.
“It’s still the same fundamental problem,” I begin, “we’re struggling to override the user-memory malfunction to allow for full virtual reality integration.”
She stares at me blankly. Maybe it isn’t just this report she hasn’t read, but all of them?
“What do you know of ‘The Project’?” I ask.
She shuffles her stiletto’d feet awkwardly. “It’s the Project, clearly,” she blusters, “the development of well, of this sophisticated virtual reality super game.”
OK, I tell myself. Let's take things back to basics.
‘The Project’ was shorthand for Full Dream Recording. Which just a decade earlier would have seemed like madness. It had started, as science often does, with the rats. During my university days, I’d managed to successfully wire up and record the dreams of rodents. It turns out they endured nightmares about cat predation, but happy dreams about discarded hamburgers and sex.
For my PhD I scaled up my experiments – cats dreamt of chasing rats and sex. Dogs dreamt of chasing cats and sex. Penguins dreamt of flying carefree above the ocean. And sex. And, curiously, chickens seemed to preserve some distant memory of their days as giant terrifying dinosaurs in their dreams. Mainly giant terrifying dinosaurs having sex, but the revelation brought my technology global publicity.
It was inevitable that they’d invest the funds in turning the technology into something that might work on humans. Hundreds of companies approached me, but I went with the one with the most exciting offer. Virtual Reality Games.
This was the idea. Record a user’s dream. Then when they were awake they could enter it again. Re-experience it, only this time do things differently. Interact with the fantasy world. Maybe you had a great dream that involved flying? Simply load up the device and retake to the skies! Or what if you had endured some terrible anxiety dream, about a speech going badly wrong? Imagine the confidence boost if you could do it again, but this time get it right? And no horror movie could possible compete with the sheer visceral thrill of reliving your most terrible nightmare.
And obviously, players could re-enjoy any dream they had about sex. But the company were pretty coy about that in the promotional material.
And for five years now I had been working on this Project. To record dreams and turn them into fully immersive experiences. And yet, as my latest report had explained, we weren’t there yet.
“It’s memory” I patiently explained to the CEO. “The big problem is that once players enter their own dreams, they acquire the memories they had when they were dreaming. The memories that made it all seem real in the first place. I mean, how can you sell an expensive virtual reality game when the player forgets they are actually playing.”
At this the CEO pauses. But only for a moment. “And do you think that this … memory problem can ever be solved?”
“Maybe,” I replied, “But I’m beginning to worry about how I might go about it. Because I’m pretty sure that I’m in a dream at this very moment.”
“Preposterous!” the CEO snorted.
“It’s a strange idea, I admit,” I reply, “I mean, I don’t remember starting to play the game. In my memory I’ve been working here for years. But, well, doesn’t this lab seem just a bit too epically amazing to you?”
I can see the confused look on the CEO’s face as she looks around the room. At the giant brain scanners. The spinning tape reels forming vast databanks complete with flashing lights and constant pinging noises. And finally my cute army of servo-robots.
“I’m not buying any of this.” the CEO suddenly snaps, “We’ve funded you with the best laboratory money can buy. Of course it's going to look impressive. If this is going to be your excuse…”
“There is one more thing.” I interrupt, “It’s probably the key development here. It’s very recent but it has pretty much convinced me that I’m dreaming. The thing is, well, I don’t quite know how to put this, but you are very much my type.”
This silences the CEO so I continue, “I mean, not just looks-wise but it's just that ever since my youth I’ve had a thing for that eighties big-haired powerdressing look. And that attitude that goes with it. I’ve always been a sucker for strong women telling me what to do. When you think about it, it’s all just too convenient that you’ve ended up here. As my powerful boss. Who seems to have put on her most expensive suit with the largest possible shoulder pads just to yell at a scientist.”
The CEO raises her hand and points directly at me, “Don’t you try and be clever here. I expect results from you! I don’t make a habit of firing beautiful, sexy scientists such as yourself, but I won’t be afraid to make an exception.”
But just as she finishes speaking I can see her anger subsiding. There’s an awkward pause, and then she begins talking again, more thoughtfully this time. “Although, it’s funny you should say that. Because as you were talking about the Project I started thinking that maybe I was playing the game. I mean, arriving here by helicopter? How cool is that? And then storming into a lab in high heels, shouting at everyone. That’s pretty cool.”
I take my glasses off at this point and let my hair down. She seems to lose her train of thought.
I break the silence by saying what we're both thinking, “Which one of us is actually having this dream?”
At this there’s a cough from a nearby desk in the lab. It’s Kevin, my intern. “I’m sorry to interrupt you at this point, but I think that this is possibly my dream.”
I turn to him, perplexed, “Really, Kevin? Being an intern is your dream is it?”
“Not exactly no. It’s more a dream where I’m sitting quietly at my desk while watching two beautiful ladies argue passionately. All the while, deep down, I know, that this is going to end with them … kissing.”
The CEO stares contemptuously at the young man, her face is now back to her furious best. “Is there anyone in this goddamn building who doesn’t think this is a dream?”
“Certainly not me!” The CEO’s helicopter pilot seemed to think he should get involved at this moment. “I mean, I only get to fly around all day in a fucking helicopter! And all the chicks dig pilots, man. There’s no way this isn’t my dream.”
“Look, I don’t care what any of you think.” I raise my voice, forceful but patient. “I know full well that I exist, that I am not the figment of anyone’s imagination. So I think we all need to calm down now and work out how I can wake up from this scenario.”
“Of course there is one eventuality that none of you are considering,” a new voice chips in, this one terribly posh and refined, “and that’s the possibility that none of this is a dream. That you are all incredibly lucky at work.”
I turn to argue with this new voice, and see, standing on my desk a talking fire extinguisher. “This might help,” he continues, holding out a lit cigarette in his nozzle. I tentatively take it from him. “I mean, you’re not really meant to smoke at work, but I’m pretty happy to make an exception on a day like this.”
I take a puff on the cigarette and try to remember whether it's normal for fire extinguishers to talk. My memory seems slightly hazy on the subject.
“My advice to all you good people,” the fire extinguisher adds sensibly, “is not to dwell too much on the silly detail about dreams. Just all get on with your successful lives as happy, sensible people.”
He hops down from the table and between the CEO and me. “Why don’t you two important types continue your discussion elsewhere. I hear the moons of Jupiter are particularly romantic at the moment. You could enjoy yourselves there, and deal with these other petty issues later.”
This sounds good. I like this. I take the CEO by her hand and ask her whether she wishes to join me. Just for a week or so.
She smiles back at me. “Why not?” Then she laughs. “You know I did just have a silly idea back then. When you mentioned what would be the point of a game you didn’t know you were playing. I considered it from a business perspective, and thought that if people didn’t know they were playing a game, they wouldn’t know to stop. A company could go on charging them indefinitely!”
The fire extinguishing laughs incredibly loud at this. “Yes, yes. It is such a silly idea isn’t it? But enough of all this thinking. What are you waiting here for? The moons of Jupiter await. Fun, romance ... maybe even a little a bit more?”
A little bit more. I like the sound of that. I'm going to enjoy this holiday.
(c) Alan Graham, 2015
Alan Graham studied "Creative Writing" and "Economics" at UEA and is still unsure which discipline relies on make-believe the most. He currently lives and works in London.
Miranda Harrison: (left) Actor and voiceover artist. Recent theatre includes Romeo and Juliet (Nurse; Leicester Square Theatre). New writing roles include In A Moment (Karen; ADC Theatre); Autumn Leaves (Julie; Barons Court); three roles for experimental company Le Nouveau Guignol; and numerous rehearsed readings. Voiceover clients include BBC Children in Need and educational audio publishers.
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