Jason dreaded the call to his family more than anything else he had experienced. He thought it must be similar to a terminally ill patient telling his loved ones that they would soon be no more. It was arguably better than that since it could be said that he wasn’t actually dead, but it was also worse in that the tragedy had already happened.

For Teddy and Jasper, their seven-year-old son and five-year-old daughter, it would be more like a long-distance divorce. Daddy wouldn’t be living at home anymore. They could call, but even that ability would disappear when the simulation began. The time compression wouldn’t allow it, even if his contract did.

Sarah couldn’t bring herself to believe it at first. Jason had never been a prankster, though, and his unflinching, serious expression numbed her disbelief. Time seemed to freeze, and she cried harder as more and more implications struck her, each tear hitting Jason’s heart with the weight of a brick. Jason’s cheeks refused to stay dry, more out of empathy for what his wife was going through than any thought of himself.

She grasped at his suggestion that she use an immersion capsule to spend some time with him before he had to go to the experimental simulation. She swallowed one of his nano pills, but it would take time for the nano to be ready; to get into the final position between the brain cells, the nano required a period of sleep. During sleep, when the brain’s cells naturally shrank in size by 60% and the body used the extra space and cerebrospinal fluid to flush toxins from the system, the nano would be able to position itself throughout the brain.

They talked and cried and planned until the school bus dropped the kids off at home, at which point they talked some more as a family. Teddy was more concerned about mom’s “no TV” rule for the night than the fact that “dad is in a computer,” but Jasper wasn’t worried, especially when he was promised that daddy would read him five bedtime stories tonight via video call.

The kids went to bed at their usual times, since Sarah and Jason agreed that a sense of normalcy was essential to maintain, and Sarah soon followed with the aid of an over-the-counter sleeping pill.

Jason was left in his virtual office, staring at a virtual screen, not feeling the least bit tired. All that adrenaline must be keeping me awake. I’ll add a bed to this simulation anyway.

Do I need sleep, anyway? I don’t see why - the biological processes are no longer relevant. What about my mental state? If I don’t sleep, will I stay sane?

He added a bed to his digital home-space and sat down on it. Then, an unpleasant thought intruded. If I lay down, and succeed in going to sleep - which I’m not sure is even possible - will I wake up?

Jason pondered that question with a growing sense of dread. There was just too much he didn’t know. People slept in simulations all the time, and it usually had the same restful effect as sleep outside an immersion capsule had. The simulation could wake the person, or they could wake through natural biological triggers. He just wasn’t sure that his digital home-space would simulate any of those natural wake-up triggers.

“Admin mode,” he paused after the words. Might as well assign the Guide a name since I’m going to be here a while. “Assign Guide name… Lauren.” It was hard to intentionally think of a name that wasn’t used by any of his close friends.

“Acknowledged. Do you wish to implement a female Guide voice package?”

“Sure.”

“Acknowledged” came back in more feminine, pleasing tones.

“Lauren, wake me up at 5:00 tomorrow morning.”

“Alarm set for 5:00 am,” the singsong voice announced.

With his alarm in place in case he ended up falling asleep, Jason stood back up from the bed, walked to his desk, and proceeded to research information he thought might be helpful in the scenario to come. He still didn’t want to risk sleep, and his time could be better spent, anyway. He checked the news once, but as far as he could tell, word of his situation still hadn’t slipped out to the media. Fine by me, he thought. Who knows what the anti-AI crowd would do if they learned about me.

--

When the sun rose through the window that Jason had added to his space, he was much more knowledgeable about technological progression and no more tired than he felt the night before. “What I wouldn’t give to have had this ability during college,” he chuckled to himself. “The easiest all-nighter I’ve ever pulled.” He continued to research specific technologies and think about his plan. Time flew by until an alert made him aware that his wife was inviting him to join him in another simulation. She had picked a simple one, called “City Life Online” that was often used as a business simulator by students and the gamer crowd. The computer-controlled NPCs, or Non-Player Characters, acted quite intelligently, and most recent business-majors in college had spent significant amounts of time in-sim. They would have the opportunity to lead virtual marketing campaigns and chase digital profits on a scale they wouldn’t normally be allowed to touch.

For couples many miles away from each other, the realism made getting a hotel room an attractive prospect. Jason had heard that some people had pursued relationships with NPCs, though few devoted that much time in the immersion capsule. Those who had that kind of time and money available typically went for more exotic simulations.

Razor did their best to prevent paid prostitution - Jason had overseen work on a few of those detection algorithms. However, there was also an ever-growing and vocal group of people who thought that pregnancy-free, disease-free interaction should be encouraged instead of stifled. Jason was sure it wouldn’t be long before Razor or another company listened to the sound of potential profits, regardless of the brand image issues or legal ambiguity.

Jason arrived at the room number his wife had provided and knocked on the door. A single rap was all his knuckles managed before the door opened and his wife ran into his arms. His shoulder grew moist as she buried her face into his shirt, tears streaming down her cheeks, though relief was evident on her features.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered as he closed the door behind them. “I’m here.”

---

At Razor, another night of programming was followed by time compression testing. They started with a one-minute test in Jason’s home-space. Jason didn’t notice any change at first, but when he checked the reference clock in his web browser, it took two and a half minutes of his time to progress three real-world seconds. Success on the first try! He thought. Not bad at all. I’ve got some time to kill. The grin formed on his face, unbidden. Let’s check the news and see if I’m famous, yet.

He quickly discovered what he imagined dial-up internet must have felt like in the broadband age. Not only was his total bandwidth 1/50th of what he was used to, the time it took for the message to travel seemed to be slowed by the same ratio. He could still read and research at a slower rate. Still, with the increased latency, he imagined that any high-bandwidth activity needing fast response times like immersion gaming would be impossible - at least without both the servers and the users located on the same high-speed network. When the fifty minutes was over, a slightly bored Jason was pulled into real-time to report the success.

Testing continued along the same vein - various amounts of time, interspersed with periods to verify data had been captured correctly, and confirm the recordings were working as intended. The system didn’t require any significant changes, and so they took the time to experiment with various and even variable compression ratios. In a simple simulation, they were able to push the ratio above 150:1, but at that rate, in the more complex scenarios, the surrounding world couldn’t keep up with his thoughts or actions. “An excellent cheat mode,” he was forced to report when the surrounding simulation had been unable to keep up with him. “At least when it comes to athletics or fighting. It was next to impossible to hold a conversation, though, with the NPC’s words all drawn out and gestures as slow as syrup.”

Aleah administered each of the tests. She tapped at a few times on her tablet out of camera view, and then looked up. “No major issues with your perception. We’ve got recording all set up, and I can even mark the ‘No’ box next to the ‘Appears to be mentally unstable’ line.” Her smile made it hard not to reciprocate. “All in all, I think you’re ready to go for tomorrow.

“When you talk to Sarah tonight, tell her that I’m willing to help if she needs anything. This can’t be easy for her. As for me,” she brightened up in an exaggerated smile, “I’m getting ready for two and a half months of overtime and very little sleep or social life. So thanks for that!”

They both chuckled, and then Aleah put down her tablet and looked at Jason for a few long seconds. “You’re a strong person, Jason. I know you can do this. Knowing you, you’re not going to waste any time,” she said with a subtle shake of her head. “I hope you have as much fun in there as I’ll have watching your life on fast forward out here!” With that, Aleah ended the call.

Was that a hidden warning that I need to move fast? Jason wondered. One way or another, it all begins tomorrow. I’ve carved out as much security for myself and my family as I could, and now it’s time to earn it. I just hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew.