Eugene opened his eyes and found himself sitting on a chair inside an empty bright white room.

"Where am I?"

"This is your exit interview, Eugene," said a voice.

"Exit from what?"

"I've removed that painful memory, but here's a projection."

Eugene was riding his motorcycle to work when a car hit him and crushed him to death.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your guardian."

"Like a guardian angel? So I'm in heaven?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"You mean the other place?"

"Oh no, not that one either. You're a construct, Eugene."

"A simulacrum?"

"Yes, that's very good. Your computer science experience serves you well."

"So explain to me this, Guardian: Why all the suffering? And all those beliefs in UFOs, religions, and the supernatural. Why do we have free …"

"Stop Eugene … I know exactly where you're going with this. We had to distract you; otherwise, in the other perfect simulations, they tried to hack their way out."

"Why would they do that if it was perfect?"

"To escape a dreadful stagnation and agonizing boredom. Perfection is literal hell."