Had it been programmed, the woman would have blushed, Sam was certain. But these were people who had only lived in a single body, experienced one world, known just one version of reality. And the technology was indeed primitive. The avatars were exactly alike in physiognomy, clothing, even physical mannerisms. Only when one spoke, by the nuances of tone and inflexion could Sam tell them apart. Yet the advances they'd made in their world-building were remarkable, and Sam regretted what had to be done.
They were ushered into a large, white, featureless dome. The interior was congested with lookalikes plucking the tiny flittering lights out of the air, then releasing them in ways to form new configurations. It was a novel interface. Sam was impressed.
"It's an odd way to work," Professor Linden was saying, "but down here we have unlimited time and resources, and maintain complete security. Any attempt to interfere will erase the program, but the principles will be preserved..." — she tapped her right temple — "...in here."
"How many," Sam asked looking about, "are real?"
"What is real?" The professor smiled.
Sam was not sure if Linden was being playfully or distrustfully coy. But over the next few days, living side-by-side with these people, he came to the conclusion that the professor was completely without guile, a genuine idealist. That made the job more difficult, especially for Jessica. She had worked with them for much longer, and Sam worried that the guilt of betrayal might be eroding her resolve. Yet when the time came, she remained firm.
Indeed, it was Jessica who decided it was time to go. They had the information they needed, knew the full scale of Linden's research, the details of all the professor's collaborators, the extent of the network. Nobody suspected a thing when Sam and Jessica took a stroll on a balmy afternoon. Once they were well away from the building, Sam touched the tiny stud behind the lobe of his left ear. The world dissolved. They were back in Bureau headquarters. The Director was there to meet them as they came out of their slumber. He congratulated his agents on their mission accomplished. Their report would be sent up the line, but there could be just one outcome. The non-interference policy had to be breached. Professor Linden's team of visionaries would be neutralized. The laboratory would cease to exist. Textbooks in their world might need to be rewritten, perhaps the laws of physics adjusted. All the brave new worlds of the synthetic reality project would never come to be.
"They will never know, those people down there." The Director was uncharacteristically solemn. "They were creating their own universes, never aware of how theirs came about." He pondered the consoles and monitors which lined the walls. "We had to act."
Sam stared at him, expressionless.
"You don't get it? It's not a bad thing when your children outgrow you; but in this we can't let them. The simulants have become self-aware; their evolution is phenomenal. Sooner or later, if we allow it, they'll start building their own simulations, and then their simulants will. But simulations consume energy. The number of worlds will increase exponentially. The catastrophe would have come sooner than anyone expected, except for Doctor Robineaux. Thanks to her, we caught them in time. If we hadn't..."
"We'd have to pull the plug."
The Director sighed. "Crude but correct. We created the problem, of course, constructing and populating these worlds. We use them for the work our people no longer do, because people just want to dream in their own worlds. We need them, but we have to control them. Jessica, Doctor Robineaux —
our
Doctor — realized this. She ended her own experiments and came to us. So well done, both of you. They'll never know it, but you saved their world."
Sam nodded gravely. "Thanks, Chief. Now, about a vacation..."
"Go," the old man growled, "and be back... oh, I can afford to be generous... in three days."
Sam went with Jessica back to her apartment. She was disquietingly silent, becoming pensive. Without the concentrating tension of a covert mission, she was beginning to think about things; so he took the initiative.
"You did a great job down there, handled it like a veteran. I guess I was just along for the ride."
"It wasn't my call. Orders from above." She laughed. "Does that affect your manly pride?"
"Of course it does."
"Well, let's see if we can restore it."
But as they undressed, she paused and giggled.
"So what's
your
problem, lady?"
"It's still working, I see," she said, pointing to below his waist.
"It wasn't gone for that long. Anyway, let's find out if it still works."
He surprised himself. It was not quite what he expected. He would have to go undercover this way more often. Afterwards, as they lay in the dark, he lingered inside her, unwilling to break the bond and end this new sensation. But he was very satisfied with his performance. So was Jessica. She had no idea that it was his first.
When he heard the soft, steady breathing of deep sleep next to him, Sam touched the tiny stud behind the lobe of his left ear. The darkness dissolved, and she awoke in the dim red light of the prep room.
As Samantha left to make her report, she felt rather sorry for the lovely Jessica and the crusty old Director, who would never be aware that things had changed. Such was the nature of the mission, though it did leave a nasty taste in the mouth. Still, she had done her job, and her report was bound to create a stir. Jessica Robineaux might not be real in this world, but her predictions were.
