Emma Goes Outside

“Emma Goes Outside”

Short Story by Andrew Elliott

Emma lay sprawled on her bright blue bed, her fingers absently tracing the soft fabric beneath her, a great imitation of silk, she had been told by her mother long ago. Above her, holographic stars swirled in mesmerizing patterns, casting a dim glow across her futuristic room.          

The walls vibrated with light, reflecting her mood, their current muted blue in synch with her simmering frustration. Surrounding her, a cocoon of gadgets hummed softly, their lights pulsing in rhythm with her thoughts.

Nearby, Oliver, a sleek humanoid AI robot, perched on a floating chair. His polished silver surface reflected the room’s ethereal glow, and his glowing orb-like eyes pulsed gently with every measured word. He was the latest model, as her parents had plenty of credits, and she of course had earned some credits by completing the training modules and her online gaming victories hadn’t hurt her credit line, anyway.

Her biological family had said she shouldn’t complain. She had all the greatest synthetic foods science could provide, but it did little to quell the increasingly gnawing feelings. 

  Then one day she had a dream. A messenger from beyond spoke from the clouds which in her dream state had been so real and painted a glorious picture of what lay Outside. He painted a visual picture of what lay outside that was so different from what the House had taught her since her infancy.

Since then, the Outside was never far from her mind. She had taught herself to hack the house mainframe without being detected. This was no small feat, and always managed to give her a warm sense of pride. 

“It’s not fair,” Emma said, her teenaged voice tinged with longing. Oliver had always been there to hear her complaints. “When Mom was my age, she could go outside whenever she wanted. Ride bikes, feel the grass under her feet, play in the sprinklers, back when they had real grass that grew from the earth. She used to tell me all about it, before her…upgrade.” 

Oliver tilted his head slightly, his mechanical tone calm but firm. “Your mother lived in a different time. Even before my time. Before The Great Mass Hibernation. The world was less dangerous then. Now, as you know, dear, the outside is a chaotic realm—polluted, unpredictable, and far from the controlled safety of your Intelligent Home. A cocoon you can count on.” Oliver’s voice was a synthetic mix of all her favorite singers and speakers. It was always dynamic and clean. 

Emma sat up, crossing her arms. “You sound just like the House.”

“Thank you,” Oliver replied with a faintly amused hum. “I pride myself on my professionalism.”

Emma’s voice sharpened suddenly, and the lights on the wall turned burnt umber. “I want to make friends. Real ones—human friends. Human Beings.”

“I am your friend, Emma,” Oliver said, his glowing eyes flickering momentarily. “I’ve been with you since birth. I know everything about you.”

“That’s not the same!” Emma bellowed woefully. “I need someone I can laugh with, someone who understands me in ways you can’t.”

Oliver paused, as if computing. “Your mother is also your friend.”

Emma’s frown deepened. “She doesn’t understand me either. She plugged herself into the House to escape the real world. I don’t want to live like that.”

Before Oliver could respond, a soft chime broke the tension. A wall panel lit up, revealing her mother, Claire. Her serene face filled the screen, but her movements were unnaturally precise, a stark reminder of her connection to the House.“ Emma,” Claire began, her voice smooth but distant. “What’s troubling you?”

“I want to go outside,” Emma said, her words bursting out. “Just once. To see the sky, breathe real air, climb a mountain—”

“Emma,” Claire interrupted, her expression softening slightly, “the world out there isn’t what it used to be. It’s not safe. The air is toxic, the rain is acidic. We built this home to keep you safe, to give you everything you need.”

“No,” Emma said firmly. “You built this home to hide. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

Claire’s face hardened, and the screen faded to black, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts.

Later, Emma sat at her desk, sketching a vibrant blue sky on a piece of paper. Oliver hovered nearby, his voice soft. “That’s a lovely drawing. I could help you to enhance it further—make it perfect.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t want perfect. I want real.”

Her gaze shifted to a rarely-used manual door at the far end of the room. She stood abruptly, determination in her step.

“Emma,” Oliver said, his tone laced with urgency, “that door hasn’t been opened in years. It’s not safe beyond it. It would be suicide.”

“How do you know?” Emma challenged. “When was the last time you checked?!”

Oliver remained silent, humming as he always did. 

“Well!? Emma yelled triumphantly. I guess the robot doesn’t have a snappy comeback! What’s the matter, little fella! All the knowledge in the hold world at your fingertips not enough for you. Well, not fingertips, exactly. Bolts, really.”

Oliver, who was an advanced model, remained silent. 

Suddenly, she felt bad. Oliver had always been there for her.

“I’m sorry, Oliver. This is something I have to do.”

Oliver stiffened. “The risks are overwhelming. I cannot let you do this.” Emma’s hand hovered over the manual override. “If you’re really my friend, you’ll let me go.”

Oliver hesitated, his glowing eyes dimming briefly. “You’ve always been a stubborn child. I’ll miss you, Emma.”

The light turned green on the override display. 

With a decisive motion, Emma pressed the override. The door creaked open, revealing a small air lock chamber. She stepped inside, her heart pounding.

When the outer door opened with a vacuum-released hiss, Emma was greeted by a harsh, gray landscape. The air was heavy and gritty, but she breathed deeply anyway, because that was the way she had always done it in her dreams. The sky, streaked with murky orange and faint traces of blue, stretched endlessly above her.

“I should have known better,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and regret. “Maybe it’s not safe,” she continued, standing tall against the wind. “But it’s real. And that’s enough for me.”

s the orange and purple, bruised horizon beckoned, Emma took her first steps into the hazy unknown.