#Also.....Kochanski using cyberspace as a way to escape reality vs. Rimmer using stasis to stop existing....

[odo-apologist]

Smegtober #4: Virtual Reality

The room is sterile, perfectly white walls unbroken by any unnecessary patterns or pictures or posters, the overhead lights blinding in their pure brightness, minimalist metal chairs sleek, hard, and cold, leaving one anxious to stand up and stretch once the session is over, and the wireless suits ready to use and laid out upon tables that are free of any useless clutter. The lifeless atmosphere is even clearer now, with the space emptied of its usual occupants and quiet except for the low hum of electricity.

     It unnerved Kris the first time she was in the room alone, the only student left, but over time, she's grown used to it. It seems you can grow used to any environment if given long enough, even one that feels like it's trying to shut you out, doing its best to make you feel unwelcome.

     Besides, this is the closest Kris has come to what might be called a home.

     She grabs her suit and slips it on. Approaching one of the desks, she pulls out its chair; the squeak of its legs against the tiled floor interrupts the ambiance and echoes through the nearly silent place. Seated, Kris places the headset on and adjusts it so it rests snuggly over her eyes. She brings her hand up to a small switch on the device, near her temple, flips it–

     “Welcome home, Krissy!” Her mother's arms envelope her within a tight, warm hug. She catches a whiff of perfume: a strong scent of jasmine. As she's released from the embrace, she smells the dinner the cook has prepared; it is Christmas Eve and she's in her family home.

     Her father stands in the doorway to the dining room, a mug in hand. “Kristine,” he smiles, “How was this last term?”

      “Well, we got to talk with Shakespeare again after reading Antony and Cleopatra. We saw a recreation of its first performance in The Globe, then we even discussed its accuracy with Antony and Cleopatra themselves! I wrote about it during finals and got an ‘A’ in the course.” She beams with pride as she speaks of her paper. Miss Brody had really praised her for that one.

     “That's lovely, dear,” her mother replies. One of their maids had brought mugs for her and Kris, so she hands one to the latter. “And not at all surprising. You've always been our straight-A scholar.”

     “That's right, Krissy. We're so proud of you!”

     Kris beams brighter. The words make her feel warm in a way the short, hurried messages from home fail to do. Later, laying in bed in her dorm that's been vacated of its other residents for the holidays, this moment will ring as false as it is; she'll feel a faint shame at her indulgence. But that's then and this is now, and dinner is ready to be served. Her father will talk about his latest excavation, her mother will talk about the ads she's working on for a pharmaceutical company or a new energy drink or the most recent model of hoppers, and Kris will enjoy every moment, basking in the glow of honey-yellow candlelight.

     In the classroom, Kris unconsciously shifts in her chair.