The Bluestone Review Spring 2022

Simulation By Hannah Reeves I was in the hospital on my deathbed. The family and friends that I had made surrounded me. I had my eyes closed. I couldn’t bear to look at them. They loved me just as much as I loved them. I was dying, and they knew it. I knew it. I never thought that this is the way I would go out, cancer in the liver, but sometimes life just isn’t fair to those that did their best. I did the best that I could. I made my parents proud of me, I made sure that I did everything they wanted of me. I had a hus band and three beautiful children who I love to the ends of the earth and more. I could hear the heart monitor beside my bed beeping slower and slower. My time was coming to a close. I opened my eyes, took a glance at all the faces that surrounded me, recognized the person holding my hand tight, my husband, and saw my children’s faces puffy and red from crying. I see my parents, my aunts, uncles, cousins, school friends, work friends, and people I haven’t talked to in years. Funny how death brings people back together. My body hurt and I thought briefly how everything in my body must be failing. Then the heart monitor flatlined. A harsh light burned my eyes when I opened them. I saw some thing being drawn away from my face and I saw people. So many people surrounded me. People in white lab coats and clipboards and monitors. Where was I? “How was the experience?” the person who took whatever it was off my face asked. Her voice was unnervingly high pitched. “The... Experience? What are you talking about? Where am I,?I’m supposed to be dead.” The doctor, I guess that’s what she was, smiled and nodded to one of her companions who began to scribble something down on a clipboard. “Carmen, you signed up two years ago to take part in an experiment that we called ‘Project Life’. We put you into a virtual reality system where it simulated life and your results were striking.” “Carmen? No, this can’t be real. I... My name is Kayla, I have three children, a husband, and friends. I had cancer and then I died. This is some afterlife.” The wires that were attached to my head and chest and arms felt tight and restraining. I tore them off and stood up only to collapse. My legs felt like jelly. “I need you to calm down ma’am, we knew that the risks in this operation were going to be challenging, but we never expected that the life you lived in the VR would have this effect on you. Kayla Daimez does not exist. Please,” she helped me get up and back into the chair. “Let us take care of you until you’re ready to reenter society. Your family will be thrilled to know that you are back.” The doctor motioned for the others to hook me back up, but I couldn’t let them touch me. I fought

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