My real fear, my utmost terror, is that I will have to say good-bye to Crystal, too. And to my Virtual Life! Some people in PL still call Physical Life ‘real’ life. Not me. My virtual life is my real life. This is where my friends are, where my life has real meaning. Crystal is my best friend, of course. She is the best friend I’ve ever had, the best friend anyone could ever hope to meet. Saying good-bye to Crystal would be like tearing out my own heart. I can’t even bear the thought of it. Yet, I am saying good-bye to so many here in VL. Why? Because PL is failing—it’s so obvious now—and because we just don’t know what comes next. Or if anything comes next… I guess that depends on Theo. Or on Omar (God help us!), if Crystal is right…
But Sonja keeps writing me emails (as Sonja) telling me how bad things are becoming in Copenhagen. Streets are flooded, shops are closed, and even the toilets are backing up. It sounds dire, but it’s not all that much better here in Seattle. Seawater (or salt water; I don’t know if it comes from the sea) now comes out of my tap. The lower areas of the city never drain. The streetlights have been out since I can’t remember when, and gas now costs more than two hundred fifty dollars per gallon!
Most people seldom go out of their houses. It’s dangerous out there! The streets are virtually empty. The fish market has no customers because it has no fish. Mr. Wang said he was sorry to have to lay me off, but I knew it was coming. I’m still getting by, but for the life of me, I don’t know how.
So maybe it’s just a matter of time… Until the lights go out for good and we’re sitting in the cold, cold darkness with our thumbs up our ass, and tears in our eyes, and wondering why we waited so long to see the ‘forest for the trees’. Christ, it’s not like the information we needed to save PL wasn’t out there. It was! All along! No, this cannot be part of some Grand Plan. Not this!
And have you heard about the black cloud that has now covered all of Florida and blocked out the sun? Sunshine State no more! They say it’s because the ocean is on fire—well, copy this, it’s not the ocean that’s on fire, it’s the oil slick on top of the water that’s burning!
But don’t cry for me Argentina. Before the water reaches my eyes, I will be gone, safe and sound in Virtual Life, maybe at Dirty Nellie’s, or at Quinn Town, or at my Van Gogh REP showing visitors Vincent’s paintings, or at Open Books helping Crystal publish Paradise Lost (because I know she’ll be in VL too). Or maybe I’ll be writing my own VL memoir (lol)—who knows? Amidst all the devastation, and all the chaos, and all the tragedy, and all the tears, and all the prayers, I do know this: it is now certain—and perhaps always was inevitable—that PL is kaput, doomed, done for, finished, history.
Whoosh…
CHAPTER 16
Since You Decided To Drop By…
WELCOME TO VIRTUAL LIFE!
Although I have to tell you, it’s not all that I envisioned it to be. And there are so many things I still don’t understand. Primarily, how is it that we (the EMs) don’t need somebody behind a PC to move about, to interact, to create, and to pose questions? In short, how is it that we can function without our PL counterparts?
That’s right: PL is no more; at least not in the present tense. Sure, I have memories of PL, but I can’t really gain a sense of Amy’s existence. I think she is not there anymore. Nor can I gain any sense whatsoever of Sonja, or Cassandra. Back in PL, even when I was not in close proximity with another person, I could still somehow sense his presence—at least it seemed that way. In PL, I guess sensuality actually went beyond the physical senses, which I probably already knew, but I still have no idea how that might have worked. Somebody a lot smarter than I might have a theory about that.
As for VL, I remember the good old days when all the emulations were still connected to PL people. I’m as guilty as anybody who spent considerable time in VL, in that we made fun, or even belittled PL existence. We saw PL as a very literal world, one divested of meaningful metaphors and sophisticated symbols, a world caught up in materialism (PL certainly was the ultimate material world), one seriously lacking creativity (in the most essential sense of the word). In short, PL was all about acquisition, which was accomplished with money. How the money was obtained grew less and less important because it became a goal unto itself. Intrinsic value actually vanished. Imagine that! In VL, materialism was never a problem, because it was a non-material world. No actual land, or houses, or shops, or cars, or clothes, or books ever existed. What did exist in VL were symbolic representations of objects. And sure, we had money in VL, just as we do here in FL, but in both VL and in FL money is more or less a joke. Of course some people acquire loads of greenshoots—millions even! Perhaps they produced some ‘commodity’ that they could sell; or maybe they won the money in Virtual Vegas, like Kiz did; or maybe they got it playing the BloomEx market. But however they acquired it, chances are that they probably gave it away at first opportunity to somebody who had little or none, so that the person with less could use it to actualize some vision or project he had in mind. That’s because in both VL and FL money is not the end game. Here the real currency is, and always has been, the currency of ideas.
In all fairness, though, PL was a world based on the carbon atom (just as Trick Walkman once articulated to me), whereas both VL and FL are based on the silicon atom. What does that mean? It means that PL was composed of organic compounds; VL did not, and FL does not depend on those compounds. In VL and FL our world, and everything in it including the ‘people’ are pixilated images projected through silicon chips. We don’t need food, or water, or protein to survive. We might partake of such things symbolically, but they are merely references to our past lives in PL and NL. What I’m saying is that nothing in FL is ‘real’ in the PL sense. That wasn’t wholly true in VL, because in VL we were still connected to our PL counterparts. In FL, that connection has been severed except for the odd memories we experience, and I must admit that even those are fading. I guess that happens with the passing of time. How much time, you ask? Beats me! Here in FL, time does not exist—at least not in the PL sense. Maybe that is because we do not experience physical degeneration—death. So our vision of self becomes rather infinite. That is unless something unforeseen might occur, as it did in PL. Whoosh was no joke when it actually came down.
But I have to tell you, also, that it’s pretty lonely here in Future Life, which is why I say that it’s not all that I expected it to be. You know how it is: EVERYBODY EXPECTS THE FUTURE TO BE GREAT. Why? Because it’s supposed to be great, and because we want it to be great, and because we need it to be great to get us out of the messes we create, and because time moving forward is supposed to equal progress, which is supposed to be great, isn’t it? Let me tell you this: time moving forward is not necessarily progress; it can also be a regression. That’s basically what happened in PL. People understood how to move forward in PL; that wasn’t the problem. The shit hit the fan when progress was confused with control, and with acquisition, which seems to come with control. At least that’s how some of us saw it in PL. In VL, we learned it could be different. VL taught us that materialism was a game not worth playing. In VL, as I’ve said time and again, there were no ‘real’ materials, only representations of materials. We came to understand that materials were nothing more than the manifestations of ideas, and in VL we were able to manifest ideas at the drop of a hat. No impediments, so to speak. That’s true here in FL, too. In fact, FL looks a lot like VL. They cross over, just as PL crossed over into VL. But crossover is not always natural—or at least it’s not complete—not for everyone in every degree at the same rate of assimilation. No, it happens differently for different people. And that’s natural, I guess. I mean, some people move from the literal world(s) into the metaphorical and symbolic world(s) kicking and screaming all the way. But if they want to survive the proverbial Flood, they move, inch by grudging inch, until they get it, until they finally come to understand that the material universe is a whole lot less ‘real’ than they might have thought, and that it is essen
tially composed of the projections of what is real: ideas. That’s it! That’s metaphor; that’s symbolism! How else can I describe it?
Still, I tend to long for the VL days when Crystal and I were feverishly trying to republish the world’s great literature, and when I was recreating the world and works of Vincent Van Gogh, and when we could all go to the VBV to hear lectures presented by the emulations of PL’s visionaries, and when Igloo Iceman would come into VL via Broadband from his home in Greenland to update us on the melting glaciers, or when we’d run into Omar Paquero in Quinn Town and he would greet us comically in Spanish: “Buenos dias, señoritas!” I miss being able to transfer in the blink of an eye to the VL recreations of PL places: of course those REPS still exist here in FL, but somehow their vitality is gone along with PL. But what I miss most of all is my VL friends. You see, I’m here in FL (and I don’t really know how I got here), but my friends—Crystal and Kizmet and Omar and Iggy and everybody else—are not here. At least I’ve not found them yet. What might have happened to them when PL collapsed? Did they not flee into VL as the waters rose? Or as volcanoes erupted, and fire moved over the landscape? Or as the parched earth sucked the fluidity right out of humanity? Or as the air became thick with soot and hydrocarbons and choked every living thing in PL? In essence, why did I survive the cataclysm and not them? Why me? Is there something essential that I’m not getting?
Another question: How is it that the emulations here in Future Life seem not to need their PL counterparts? As I said, I think Amy Birkenstock is dead (grieve now for Amy). In fact, I think everybody that ever existed in PL is now dead. And that’s a pity! But what’s the deal? How is it that we exist without them? What did Theo Ola manage to do before the end came for Physical Life? I’d like to know, because maybe knowing what he did would give me some understanding about why I survived (Did I actually survive?) and why I can’t find any of the VL EMs I once knew and loved. As I said, Future Life is not all I thought it would be: it’s a bit lonely here.
But since you decided to drop by, and since I just happen to be here, let me welcome you to Future Life. It’s not all bad, you know…
“Buenos dias, Fizzy Oceans!”
OMG! It’s Omar Paquero!
“Where did you come from?” I ask incredulously.
“Same place as you, I suspect,” he says.
“Whatever… I’m just glad to finally run into somebody I knew from VL. Have you seen anybody else? I mean the old gang?”
“No,” he says. “This is a new world.”
“No kidding… Hey, Omar, just before PL went whoosh, I got an email from Crystal claiming that she’d found out that you are actually the emulation of Theo Ola. Is that true?”
“I am Omar Paquero. You are Fizzy Oceans. I have always been Omar. You have always been Fizzy. We will always be Omar and Fizzy.”
“Yeah, and a Quinngen will always be a Quinngen…”
“Si…”
“It’s just that sometimes people embody more than one EM, you know?”
“Si…”
“And I just thought that if you actually were Theo Ola—”
“I fear that Theo Ola is dead,” says Omar.
“Hmmm… I never thought of that. Is that really possible?” I ask.
“I’m sure of it, Fizzy Oceans. Theo is dead.”
“Just like Amy Birkenstock is dead,” I admit.
“Si…” Omar lowers his head and scratches at the ground with his shoe. “But I think I might have seen Filo Farmer here in FL. Si, I’m sure of it! If I see him again, would you like me to tell him you’re looking for him?”
“Filo Farmer? Oh, please yes, Omar!”
“If I run into him, I’ll tell him to IM you.”
“Yes, thank you. It’s been great seeing you again, Omar.”
“You too, Fizzy Oceans. Keep in touch.”
“Yes, I will. I will!”
“Buenos dias, señorita!”
“Bien venidos, Omar Paquero!”
What a relief! Seeing Omar I mean… It’s good to know that someone besides me has made it through from VL to Future Life. I mean it’s good to know that it’s possible… But of course it’s possible, because I’m here! Wherever here might be…
Nevertheless, if Omar is here, others must be here too. It stands to reason. And my sense of reason seems to be intact. If Omar is correct, then Filo Farmer is also here. I really hope I run into Filo, because he might have answers to some of my BIG questions, unless, like me, his memories of Theo Ola are fading fast. Then I might never know…
What is it I want to know? Oh, yeah… I want to know why it is that the emulations here in Future Life don’t need their PL counterparts. Still, I wonder if knowing the answer to that question is really so important. The longer I’m here, the less relevant it seems. Am I just forgetting who I really am? Or who I once was? Do we really have to navigate whatever existence seems real at the time in total blindness?
Maybe…
And maybe not! Maybe it’s possible to live in all worlds at the same time, in full consciousness, and in full appreciation. What a concept! I’ll have to give that one some thought…
I have to admit, I can’t help returning time and again to all the old REPS where Crystal and Kiz and I used to hang out in VL. I could say that I don’t know what I’m searching for in those all but abandoned places, but that would be a lie. What I’m searching for is a link with my past, even if it is a fairly recent past. I cannot return to PL, that’s gone now. Nor would I want to if I could. I am a child of a transitional Age, of course. I may have been born into PL, but my true nature, and my talents, and even my revelation was revealed and came to fruition in Virtual Life. That’s just the way it happened.
Stepping into Quinn Town I am reminded of the cave where Crystal and I often went to discuss our deepest emotional longings, as well as the very nature of our existence. That cave was certainly my VL womb. The fire inside is still burning, though here in FL nobody seems to be feeding or tending it. To me, that seems a shame, a matter of neglect. Abandonment is NOT an option. Yet it’s almost as if the light of regeneration is being ignored, or at least neglected. I toss another log onto the fire then stir the ashes. A tear comes to my eye.
Then, outside, I hear a familiar sound (Jeff Beck blues riff). OMG! It must be Tooltech, the Quinngen! And his partner in crime, Ego Ectoplasm!
I leave the cave and look out across Sugarland. There they are, all right: the funny little kid that never talks and his invented sidekick with a generator for a back.
“Hey you guys!” I call to them.
“It’s Fizzy Oceans,” I hear Tooltech say to Ego as they approach.
I hop over sugary stepping-stones to meet them. As I arrive, Tooltech plays a blues fanfare on his Les Paul Jr.
“Am I ever glad to see you guys!” I say breathlessly.
“Hello, Fizzy Oceans,” says the Quinngen.
“I’ve been here in FL for I don’t know how long,” I tell them. “I’ve been looking for everybody we knew in VL, but I was beginning to think that I was the only one that crossed over.”
“No, we’re here,” says Tooltech.
“So I see. Have you seen anybody else? Crystal? Kizmet? Igloo Iceman?”
“No,” says Tooltech.
“I don’t know how I got here,” I tell them.
Tooltech laughs like a child. “That’s easy,” he says.
“Then tell me, please,” I implore him.
“Adaptability, that’s it!”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Moving from one world to another one, or from one universe to another, adaptability is what’s important. That’s why Ego (aka AQ) made me as I am—for adaptability. You know, a Quinngen is always a Quinngen, and will always…”
“…be a Quinngen,” I finish.
“A Quinngen is totally adaptable. Just like you, Fizzy Oceans.”
“Like me?” (Eric Clapton blues riff played on Les Paul Jr.) “But I’m no
t even sure that I like it here. Or that I want to stay… I miss VL, don’t you?”
“Moving from one universe to another ain’t easy, girlie,” says Tooltech. “Unless, of course, you are a…”
“…Quinngen,” I finish again.
Tooltech laughs and gives me a Mustardseeds t-shirt. Then he plays a B.B. King riff on his guitar. Ego and Tooltech move off to do their business, whatever that might be, and I am again left alone.
Where might I go in this all-too-familiar yet wholly strange world called Future Life? I have the same facility to move from REP to REP that I had in VL, yet time and again, once I arrive at a familiar destination, I find that it not only looks a little odd, but that I am alone. Something’s got to give here…
Finally, the IM comes from Filo Farmer. Happy to see that you’ve made it to FL, it says. When and where shall we meet?
Immediately I reply: Your EM will be a sight for sore eyes. Meet me at Open Books, asap.
How about right now?
:) I type.
I arrive first in front of the Open Books shop. But it’s not like it was in VL. For one thing, all the lights are turned off and the door is locked. For another, Crystal is not there. Nor has she been there for some time. That’s obvious because the greenshoots have not been collected from the donations box in front of the shop. I sit down on the steps to wait for Filo to arrive. The street is deserted; there’s not a soul around.
At last Filo comes walking round the corner. Even though we only met once, somehow he seems like a long lost cousin. I greet him with a tender kiss on the cheek.
“I have a few questions to ask you,” I tell him.
“In light of our one and only conversation, I’m sure you do,” he says. “I’m happy to tell you whatever I can, Fizzy.”
“Can you tell me where all my friends are?” I ask.
Filo sighs: “Not specifically, I’m afraid. But they might be on their way. It’s hard to say. I know the transference is not yet complete. And it takes some longer than others, you know.”
The Virtual Life of Fizzy Oceans Page 37