The Will
What would you do if your perfect world—and the love of your life—was just an illusion?
Read time: 8-10 minutes
About this story: Carl’s perfect retirement in a sun-drenched European metaverse takes a sharp turn when a stranger reveals the shocking truth about his world—and his wife, Dana. Faced with losing everything, Carl must grapple with what’s real, what’s left, and whether love can survive in a crumbling digital utopia.
She looked the most beautiful in front of the Fontana di Trevi with her pistachio gelato in her left hand and her sunglasses in her right hand. Dana twirled so her sunflower dress swayed with the wind as I snapped a photo with my vintage disposable camera.
“Is it alright?” She asked after the fourth shot.
“Even the fountain looks better with you,” I told her, happier than ever. Italy was the grand finale before we would settle in Spain for Alicante. “Is it me, or do the horses look smaller?”
Dana looked at the fountain and then turned back around. “Carl, your obsession with inflation even affects how you view art.”
I laughed and put the camera around my neck. “Before we go,” I said, “let's go to L'Antica Birreria Peroni and have our last meal.”
“I would love that!” Dana leaned in and kissed me. “You're right,” she said, “what you said before. Early retirement was the best thing we did.” She lept away from the fountain edge. “After Lisboa, of course. And Madrid. And now Roma,” Dana laughed.
“Do you remember that one time in Chile when we drove to the coast in La Serena?” I asked.
“How could I forget?” Dana said. “We saw the sea lions on the side of the road. Full traffic behind us.”
“I wanted to keep going, but you didn't.”
“Life is in the distractions,” Dana said, resting her head on my shoulder. We began to walk towards the restaurant. “Anything good is always on the way to something else.”
“We parked the car on the side of the road,” I said, “and I thought that British tourist was going to kill me when he slammed his brakes,” I laughed, “but it was worth it when we saw half a dozen sea lions eating the leftovers the fishermen left on the shore.”
“And then you snapped those pictures for me.”
“You looked beautiful then, too.”
“And then you kept taking them even after I left,” Dana teased me.
“Those lions were mesmerizing,” I said, “I didn't even notice when one was going to charge me like a bull.”
“You turned from an artist-photographer to a matador in seconds.”
“Except I was running for my life!” I laughed. “That small rental car never looked so good.”
When we arrived at the restaurant entrance, Dana leaned close to me. “We're going to have a wonderful retirement.”
“We are.”
“You know how I know?”
“How?” I asked.
“I've never—vr—vr—vr—vr—vr—vr—vr—vr.” Dana began glitching and twitching left and right, her hand clamping harder on my arm.
“Dana? Dana!” I shook her as panic set in, and her grip stuck like a cement joint.
Dana froze, but she still held me tight. I grew dizzy and saw flashes of red, white, and red again. The scene around me—Rome, the tourists, and the noise—suddenly dropped silent. Everything stood still.
I wiggled my way out of Dana's grip. I peeked inside the restaurant, and everyone there paused, too. I had to be dreaming. But I was wide awake. Minutes later, I saw a man in a suit exit the restaurant.
“Carl?”
“Yes?” I answered.
“Please, take a seat with me inside.”
Still dazed, I followed him into the restaurant and sat across from him at the table. He studied me for a moment before speaking. “Are you having trouble breathing?”
Silence.
“My name is Sam. I work for Vida Eterna. I'm sure you recognize the name.”
“I do,” I answered, but I couldn’t place it as my mind raced to piece together everything that happened.
“This is very difficult for me to say,” Sam began, “but you’re living in one of our legacy metaverse realms—Eterna X39.”
I blinked. “This isn't real?”
Sam straightened up. “Oh no, this is very real. You are real. I am real. But this is not physical in the traditional sense.”
I shook my head, my thoughts spiraling. “Where's Dana?”
“She'll be back up and running soon. But I'm afraid there are some developments I have to explain to you. I'm legally required to inform you.”
I felt my chest tighten into a knot. “Go on.”
“To put it bluntly—you're out of funds. We have to downgrade your experience.”
“What?” My voice cracked. “I don’t understand.”
Sam exhaled. “How much do you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you alive? In the physical, fiat world?” Sam asked carefully.
“Of course. I've just—lost track of time. These metaverses can feel so real. How long have I been logged in?” I asked.
Sam leaned forward. “You died twenty years ago.”
Suddenly, I could feel the static air brushing past me and then touching the frozen waiter—his cheeks slightly misaligned. My stomach twisted. “I’m—dead?”
“You’re dead,” Sam confirmed. “Your consciousness was transferred into this digital realm.” He snapped his fingers, and the waiter sprung back to life. “We'll have a bottle of Chianti, please,” Sam said. The waiter soon returned from the cellar with a bottle and two glasses.
“In your will, you set some money aside in a trust to fund your life here in Eterna X39, server 93201928144, indefinitely. In theory.” Sam waved the waiter away after the server opened the bottle. He grabbed it himself and poured a glass for me first. “What changed? The economy. Big crash. A few wars. Crazy politicians. I won't get into it. Your money? It's gone,” Sam said.
I gripped the edge of the table. I could feel it wobble, and the red wine in my glass spilled over the rim. “So—what happens now? I disappear?”
Sam shook his head. He took a napkin and dried the spill in front of me. “No, you’ll still exist. But you’ll be downgraded. Right now, you’re in a living, evolving simulation. Dana, the places you visit, they all grow with you. But on the free plan, everyone around you will become NPCs—non-player characters.” Sam called for the waiter again and asked for a small plate of stuffed olive croquettes.
I stared at Sam, trying to comprehend. “So, Dana. She’s—not real anymore?”
The waiter placed the olives on the table, and Sam popped one in his mouth. “Not like before,” he said, sipping his glass while chewing. “She’ll still be here but won’t grow or evolve. She’ll respond to pre-programmed inputs.”
The room shrunk, and the colors on the table and walls dulled. “But Dana—she can pay for more, right? Can’t she help me?”
Sam looked away. “She already knows. She’s moving on.”
“What? No. She would never—”
“She remarried a lawyer two years after your death. They’ve been together for 18 years now. They have a house in Palm Beach.” Sam stood up, glancing at his watch. “I’m sorry, Carl. If you have any questions, you can contact customer service, and they’ll respond within 48 hours.” He turned to leave, then paused. “I wish you the best.”
Sam left the restaurant, leaving me alone, frozen in place. I shot up from my chair and ran back outside. I could hear the Roman foot traffic again and glasses ringing and clashing together.
Dana stood outside, holding her forehead.
“Are you ok?” I trembled.
“My head is killing me,” She said.
“There was a glitch."
“A glitch?”
“Yes. But you’re alright now, right? It’s you?”
She smiled softly. “I'm Dana.”
“We’re going to Alicante,” I said, my voice pleading.
“We’re going to Alicante?”
“Yes. We’ll retire early and live happily.”
Dana paused. “We will?”
-END-
Treasure Coast, FL