Chapter Seven

NATHEN

 

After watching Cameron fall asleep again, Nathen started up the virtual machine on his laptop with what he assumed was a burgeoning AI. Excited at the prospect of working to figure out this program, apprehension also clouded him. What does it all mean? Once again Nathen found himself slipping into the virtual forest. Calmed by the trees, ambient sounds, and totality of the surroundings, he took a moment to relax and soak in the warmth of the sun he could no longer enjoy in the real world.

Though the space remained familiar, the scene was different from before. The trees were of a different kind, birch instead of deciduous, and not in the same configuration. The low mists traveling the ground in various parts of the forest, the smell of the loamy soil, and the vivid virtually neon-green moss created an almost childlike marvel at how real it all appeared and felt. A part of Nathen missed this, being outside in the sun, walking in the woods and taking in the experience of the natural world and its myriad forms of life. In this space existed a new life form, or at least he believed it to be so. He slowly moved through the moss-covered ground toward a bright pulsing light not too far in the distance.

Stopping a few paces away, he gazed up at a cat with scintillating rainbow-colored fur perched on a branch in a young birch tree. Around the area, an invisible light illuminated the trees as he entered the space. It was as if he was surrounded by a presence of something ineffable. It was, to him, the light of consciousness, something he had a connection to, though not knowing why.

The cat jumped down from the branch and with fluid motion sauntered to him, pressing up against his leg with a low vibrating purr. Nathen instinctively picked it up, bringing it closer to him in an embrace. He was awash in love and contentment as the world around him started to lose its color and darken.

The trees and cat disappeared, and Nathen stood alone, hugging himself in a black void, his own pale hands trembling in front of him. Though he could see no floor, he stood on solid ground. Fear snuck in momentarily, and he turned with mild panic. Behind him suddenly appeared a large wooden antique bookcase filled with books, their bindings showing in neatly stacked in rows. A round table and two red, padded, comfortable-looking leather-bound chairs appeared at the same level as the shelf. Nathen blinked and the space filled out into what he imagined a medieval library in a monastery might look like. Shelves upon shelves of books began extending as the bookcase expanded and writing desks appeared, holding large tomes. The dark, womb-like area was illuminated by a single wax candle dripping onto the round table, its flickering light burning brighter. In that light, Nathen found a sense of safety, embraced by meaning and bound by words of long-dead crafters of worlds.

From behind the large case, a small human child, though he could not discern the sex or even its features, walked out holding a book in its hand. It ignored Nathen, sat at the table, and continued reading.

Nathen stood, weighing his options. Finally, he said, “Hello?”