“So, this is the place?” you asked Amy, your girlfriend. The fact that you chose to date her in spite of her extremely childish appearance and mannerisms earned you the nickname of “Cradle Robber” among your friends.
“Yep,” Amy said, looking at the industrial-looking warehouse-like building. “This is it.”
You sighed. “What, you found a stuffed scorpion in here?” Amy was always finding things and labeling them “cute,” regardless of common sense or any kind of common defining characteristic. One time, she got you to go to the city dump and dig out a life-size statue of Colonel Sanders. And that wasn’t even the worst thing she’d had you do for her over something she considered “cute,” although it was thankfully the smelliest.
“Huh?” Amy asked, looking up at you in confusion. “Why would I want a stuffed scorpion?”
“Why would you want a bleached-pink grandfather clock that didn’t even tell time anymore?” you asked. “Why would you want the KFC statue? Or the old, furless Furby?”
“Because they’re cute,” Amy said. “Scorpions… bleah.” She made a face, with her tongue sticking out. “This is dad’s workplace.”
“Your dad’s workplace,” you repeated. “Please tell me we’re not going to interrupt his work.”
“No way, Tom-Tom,” Amy said. Tom-Tom was her nickname for you. She wouldn’t stop no matter how many times you told her to. “The thing I wanted to do with you won’t disturb anyone.”
“Good,” you said. Despite your griping, you looked forward to each and every date that you and Amy went on. If they weren’t fun themselves, (and they were virtually guaranteed to be because of Amy’s personality) then Amy found a way to make them fun.
You stepped in… and it was like entering a whole other world. Gone was the dull, grey pallor of the outside, to be replaced by a thriving world of nerdy-looking people in white lab coats talking, drinking coffee (at least you hoped it was coffee) and occasionally carrying a bundle of papers in their arms.
“Come on!” Amy took your hand and led you through the throng and down a few corridors. The scientists didn’t seem to pay Amy much attention, you noticed, although you drew a few surprised glances.
“Hey, Amy,” you said.
“What?” Amy asked you on the run as she led you deeper and deeper into the building.
“Who… is your father?”
“Dad? He owns the place,” Amy said. “He’s also the head researcher, so everyone takes him so seriously. It’s boring,” she confided, “but he lets me use the vrum anytime I want.”
“And what’s the vrum?” you asked.
“You’ll see!” Amy said.
Finally, Amy stopped dragging you when you reached a door in the very back of the facility. “We’re here,” she said. “This is the place that the vrum is at.”
“So, what’s this ‘vrum’ thing anyhow?” you asked.
“Come and see,” Amy said, pushing the door open. “Hey, Mac!”
“That’s Researcher MacDugald,” said a redhead scientist with a thick beard. He glared at Amy. “Here again, are you? I don’t know what your father’s thinking, letting a child like you here so often. I certainly wouldn’t allow it. Don’t tell me, you want to use the Virtual Reality Machine?”
“Yep,” Amy said brightly. “Wait, did you just call me a kid? Because I’m not a kid anymore! I can even drink soda if I want to!”
MacDugald rolled his eyes. “I suppose we do need some new test subjects every now and then,” he said. “Just don’t blame me if it shorts out on you.”
“Virtual Reality,” you said. “Really?”
“That’s right,” MacDugald said, slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “Virtual Reality Machine, also called the VRM. The best anywhere. It takes your consciousness and adapts it into data, and overlays that data into a computer program that lets you create your own environment.” MacDugald gradually started talking faster, as though he genuinely enjoyed talking about it –
“uraaAAAaahh,” Amy yawned. “Are you done yet?”
MacDugald rolled his eyes again. “You are so immature,” he said. “Yes, you may be hooked up to the VRM. You know how.”
Amy hooked you up, and then herself. “Okay, Mac,” she said. “Hit the button.”
“That’s Researcher… oh, never mind,” MacDugald said, and pushed a button.
Then...
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