Lucid Synthetic Dreaming

Eva slumped in her chair eating a bar of chocolate and drinking tea, looking like a naughty child.

“You are a right fucker, you know that?”

“Yeah,” said Ray. “But it’s for your own good.”

“Where’s my Isaac?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

“It’s been a week. A week since you kidnapped me and locked me up in this asylum.”

Ray laughed. “Rehab is not an asylum.”

“Might as well be. Tell mum I am never speaking to her again.”

“She knows.”

“As soon as I’m out of here, Isaac and I are getting hitched. Then he’ll be my next of kin and no-one can pull this on me again. You hear me?”

“I hear you. This is my last throw of the dice. If it doesn’t work, I’m done.”

“You mean you won’t love me anymore. That can’t be right Ray. You’ll always love me.”

“I will,” he said. “But I won’t try to save you again.”

“Sure, you will. You’ll always pull me back from the brink.”

“You ready for imaging?”

“Yeah, why not? But take me in the wheelchair like the patient I am.” Eva got out of her chair and sat in the wheelchair opposite. “I’ve always wanted a go in one of these.”

*

Eva lay down on the bed, and the doctor attached the nodes to her scalp.

“And you understand everything that’s about to happen?”

“Yeah, sure. You will suck every memory out of my head and create an Eva bot in your virtual reality game.”

“Lucid Synthetic Dreaming,” he corrected. “And it’s not a game. It’s a world real people will visit whilst deep inside a lucid dream state. They will pay for access and they will meet genuine celebrities like you, go to concerts, live next door to them, socialise with them on holiday.”

“And if you never tour again or make another record, you’re free to give it all up. Step off the treadmill,” said Ray. “But your exact copy inside this lucid dream will carry on making you money. A retainer as long as she is active.”

“You really think you’ll fix me by giving me the option of doing nothing?” she laughed.

“Maybe, maybe not. But this life isn’t making you happy. This way you can live it and step away from it.”

“You’re crazy, Ray.”

“I’m going to administer the anaesthetic now. Can you count down from ten to one for me?”

“Ten, nine, eight,” Eva’s speech became blurred. She carried on talking, but only in her head. “Will she think she’s real? When I wake up, how will I know if I’m real or if I’m the girl in the dream?”

Eva drifted out of consciousness, watching her entire life flashed before her. The childhood games, her mother chasing her through park laughing, the school concert where she sang Sinatra songs to puzzled looks from her schoolmates, the first holiday to Spain and the talent contest, the older man who told her how great she was but then tried to kiss her, the first studio session being recorded and Isaac bringing in coffee half way through, making sure she got the right cup, the one with enough vodka to steady her nerves. Faster and faster, the memories came, speeding up until they were a blur.

Eva woke with a start, stepping off a kerb which jolted her back to consciousness. The doctor was still there. Ray was still there, smiling stupidly, no doubt thinking she was now ‘fixed’.

“How do you feel?” asked the doctor.

“Sick.”

“It’s normal. The nausea should pass in a few hours.”

“Will she think she’s real?”

The doctor paused for a second or two, as if only considering the possibility for the first time. “Possibly. Yes, it’s possible she’ll think she’s real.”

“Even when I’m drunk, you can’t bullshit me, and I’m sober today. Why are you pretending you’ve never thought about it?”

The doctor leaned his head to one side and shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes people find it a disturbing thought. If you don’t ask, we don’t tell.”

“I’ve asked.”

“Then yes, she will think she’s real. Otherwise, it doesn’t work. It’s the whole point of taking a full memory scan.”

“Okay,” said Eva. “Next question. How do I know I’m real?”

“What?”

“How do I know I’m the real Eva and not the one that imagines she’s real?”

“Mmh, great question.”

“You calling me clever Doc?”

Yes, I guess I am.”

“So, what’s the answer?”

“Je pense, donc je suis.”

“Say what?”

“I think, therefore I am. Descartes’ famous proposition. The real Eva, you, will think about whether you are real, the copy won’t. You have thought about what’s real, so you are the real Eva. Simple really.”

“Okay, Ray fire up the wheelchair and take me back to my room. Real Eva needs some real sleep.”

“Sure thing.”

“And when I wake up, I want my Isaac to be here, understood?”

Read part 4 here