Crusade Against the Machines

by Franklyn Santana

  I told her. »Listen, Evelyne! I’m not going to restore my memories of this world here. On the contrary! I am going to have erased everything I’ve seen here. And then I’ll go back to my simulation. The life of Cliff Dexter may not have been a great life, but it’s still better than this one.«

  She held me by the arm and said insistently: »Sergei!«

  »Leave me alone!« I shouted and broke free. »I’m not Sergei! I’m Cliff Dexter!« I ran back to the building. Evelyne stayed behind.

  I heard her calling behind me: »Sergei! Be reasonable! You’ll always return back here eventually.« She laughed. »I’ll simply accelerate the virtual time of your simulation by a factor of twenty thousand. Then you’ll be back here again tomorrow because the sixty years will have passed.« Again I heard her laughing.

  Washington, D. C., 2050

  The ring tone from the wall screen woke me up from my sleep. I could barely open my eyes. I was still dead-tired. I had had some disturbing dream, the details of which I couldn’t remember. Only a confusing feeling remained, which faded the more I awoke. The annoying signal kept buzzing. I cursed. When I could finally open my eyes wide enough to see the blurry screen behind my bed, I saw who was bugging me so early in the morning. It was the Old Man. Of course it was the Old Man. Once again I cursed...