This Is Not Real

Even the sky was entirely blue with the repeated warning,

Your Device needs to be repaired.

This application or operating system could not be loaded because a required file is missing, corrupt, or contains errors.

File:\OSC\system 414\Xxxxx.xx

Error Code: 0xc000s174-b48-000c

Error Code: 0xc000s178-a12-000d

Error Code: 0xc000s182-b67-000j

Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code:

Only minutes before, Michael had been studying at his favourite coffee shop. The finals were here. The last ones of his degree. He knew the material but needed the confidence from a review. The coffee was hot. The aroma was relaxing. The chitter-chatter from the other people was soothing. Dark and light brown tones of the cafe made it warming and calming. Michael was beginning to feel that confidence build up, the foundation for it already set.

Then everything went blue.

The table and chairs.

The floor and walls.

And everything was covered in a white, block font:

Your Device needs to be repaired.

Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code: Error Code:

The cafe customers retained their human shape but had become colourful blocks glitching in and out, on and off.

Michael screamed. 

People turned to look at him. Their bodies were frizzing.

Michael looked at his hands. They were still flesh, but then they glitched in and out.

Michael grabbed the table. It was still there but blue with the text. He knocked his coffee over and a blue liquid with the message on it spilled out onto the floor. The table glitched for a moment. His hands went through and he smacked his head on the table as it reappeared. He came back up with his mouth open but did not make any sounds.

People stared. People spoke in a mechanical voice.

He got up and ran.

SMACK! He hit the door! It flew open.

It opened to the same sight. Nothing but blue and error codes. The sky looked like overlapping screens, all displaying the error codes. Buildings. Cars that were parked and drove by. The people were human-shaped but made of multicolour blocks. They walked by staring at him.

Michael felt the panic and anxiety grip his chest like it would crush his heart.

He ran. He didn’t know which direction he just ran.

Something in the shape of a truck nearly hit him as he ran into the parking lot. The rainbow man yelled, “What are you doing? I almost hit you!”

Michael paid little attention as he pushed off the truck and continued to run.

“Mike! What are you doing? Stop!”

It was his friend Lex, or at least a colourful, glitching version of her.

“Mike! Stop! Stop! Mike!”

He didn’t. She ran after him, but he just ran faster. That ‘thing’ was persistent, chasing him for some time past building after building of warnings.

Then he stopped. Ahead was a black void. It engulfed everything everywhere. It was moving towards him. Michael turned and ran. He ran past Lex. He ran past the coffee shop. He could hear popping sounds and clicks coming from behind him. They were getting closer. The sounds of the city were disappearing. Then Lex stopped yelling at him.  No way he was going to turn around. He ran.

No one seemed to pay any attention to the void. Life went on as normal. Then up ahead, he saw proper blue skies with clouds, buildings, vehicles, and people. Blue vehicles would disappear at that point, though, as they drove through. This madness just stopped at some point. But the void was fast and it sounded like it was picking up speed. Pop-pop-click-click getting faster.

Suddenly, the sidewalk under Michael glitched. He tripped and fell. He tried to get up, but his foot was trapped in the ground. Michael pulled and pulled. The void was picking up speed, swallowing everything in sight. Closer, closer, and closer. He pulled and pulled. Suddenly, his foot came out of his shoe. He scrambled up and ran.

Michael could feel a tingling sensation crawl up his legs and back. It hit his neck and he screamed out. Normalcy was just feet away.

Michael crossed the barrier. His breath disappeared. His legs folded under him. He hit the sidewalk. And it was a sidewalk. He was looking at grass, a bus shelter, cars driving by. All normal. A man walked up and asked if he could help. Michael took his hand. It was a real, human hand. He said thank you. Lex caught up to him.

“Mike, what’s going on? Are you okay?” she asked.

“I . . . I don’t know,” he replied. “I just need to get home.”

Michael jogged the rest of the way. He was exhausted, but the adrenaline still pushed him. He reached home and walked onto the porch. Michael touched the post as he turned around to look at the world.

It glitched.

Michael jumped back. Everything looked normal. He touched the post again and it was fine. Smooth and real. He reached for the door, opened it, and carefully walked in. Mom and Dad were chatting in the dining room, sitting and having a coffee. They looked up to see their sweating, panting, terrified son.

“Oh my god,” Mom said, “Michael, are you alright?”

Dad pulled out a chair and guided Michael to it. He jumped when his Dad touched him and again when he sat. Everything felt normal. Everything looked normal. There was a slight scent of coffee in the air. Cookies were on the table. Michael gingerly reached out to grab one and slowly brought it to his mouth. It crunched when he bit it. He could taste it. The table was real. The chair was real. Mom and Dad were real. Maybe everything was okay.

“I feel like I’ve . . . like I’ve gone insane.” And Michael described what had happened. Mom and Dad traded a glance. “Have I lost it or . . . or what?” As the adrenaline and stress dissipated with those words, Michael cried.

Dad put his hand on Michael’s shoulder as he again shared a look with Mom. She nodded.

“Michael, there is something we hope we would never have to tell you this,” she said, “never imagined we would ever have to again.”

“Mike,” Dad said, “you’re a program, a computer program.”

The adrenaline came back, “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”

“Michael, son,” Dad said, “you are an artificial intelligence. This is a game your Mom and I are in. That you are in.”

“Years ago,” Mom continued, “Your Dad and I started playing this Metaverse game. It was pretty great. We met each other, fell in love, married inside the game, and not long after we had you. We guessed that at some point someone would come along and assume your identity like what happened with the Worthingtons next door and the Mullers down the street. But no one ever did. And we just kept raising you as our son. Over time, someone did come forward to play you, but by that point, we couldn't just let someone become you. You were so real to us. We loved you so much.”

Michael started to hyperventilate. “What do you mean? What are you talking about? What . . .”

“Michael,” Dad said, “calm down, just relax . . .”

“You’re telling me I’m a fucking computer program in a computer program and then tell me to stay calm!” Michael jumped up and pushed Dad and the chair away. “This is fucking nuts. You’re fucking nuts. All of this! I think! I feel! I am real!”

And he started to glitch.

Michael looked up wide-eyed, “You said again. Like this has happened before. How could this have happened before? I’m not some program!”

Mom nodded to Dad.

Dad guided him back to the chair, “Let me get you something to drink.”

Mom slid over on her chair and took Michael’s hand. “I know, it’s hard but we still love you. We would never trade you in or let anyone become you you are our son.”

“Trade me in?” It was all so confusing to Michael. He didn’t think twice when his Dad handed him the glass of orange juice and he drank it down. He looked at the glass.

That didn’t taste like orange juice.

Michael’s eyes started to blink and flutter rapidly. He sat straight up in his chair. His face went blank and then became calm.

Michael smiled as he saw his Mom and Dad.

“Mom, Dad, I’m really tired. I’m going upstairs to take a nap.”

“Not too long,” Mom said. “Supper will be ready in a bit.”

“Okay,” Michael answered, and he went upstairs.

Mom and Dad looked at each other. After a few moments, Mom got up to put the cups away.

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” Mom asked.

“I’ll talk to the company and see if they can fix this once and for all,” Dad answered. “Maybe in his next life. . .” He said, fading off and hoping for his son.