Simulated: VR Lesbian Sex

Disclaimer: I went to an art school and know absolutely nothing about VR, AR, coding, hacking, etc. This is just a bit of fun and drama and I've done my best to follow a set of logic that makes sense to me. Take your disbelief and suspend it. Anyway, I'm already planning this as a full novella because I'm having a great time writing it, so expect more chapters :)

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I woke up to that same late-night infomercial that was always on, repeating over and over when the networks couldn't fill a timeslot. That was more and more common, now, of course; I'd been hearing that this was the last year of cable for the last few years.

The chipper female voice said, "Discover Elysium, a world of your own!"

I cracked one eye open to watch the ad. The pretty woman in her spacey outfit -- the sort of thing they'd imagined we'd be wearing today back in the 2000s -- put on her sleek black VR glasses. The screen fizzled and 'Elysium' appeared. At least, her version of it, the one WinCorp wanted to sell everyone on. The version with a bright blue sky, rolling fields of wildflowers, and mythical creatures batting their wings across the sky.

"In Elysium," she said, now without her glasses, standing in the idyllic world, "you can create what you want to see. Each world is a canvas that's only yours. Invite your friends with sharing codes, or choose to become the master of your own realm, designing everything you wish you could see in the real world."

She started to show off some of the interface, changing her own hair color, outfits, and facial features to be more 'ideal.' It was an hour-long ad, so she painstakingly pointed out the ways to manipulate the surroundings. It was old tech now, but these ads were to target the people who had the TV on late at night -- old people and drunk idiots. I fell into the second category.

I got up from the couch. It was 4 a.m., still dark out save the neon lights that always flickered outside my window from the shops below my apartment, and I could already feel the hangover settling into place after my sister's bachelorette party that had ended about two hours ago. I grabbed a glass of water, mixed in a pouch of liquid IV, and downed it before laying back down on the couch.

I rarely slept in my bed anymore. It had been almost a year since Callie had been reported MIST -- Missing in Spacetime -- on her last mission, but I hadn't found the heart to take down her decorations, paint the walls, or sleep in the middle of the bed without her. Part of me was afraid that the sheets wouldn't smell like her anymore. The other part was afraid they still did.

The ad continued.

"In Elysium, you can have everything you want -- and more."

"Not my fiancee," I informed the woman on the TV with a laugh. "She's gone forever. Whatever that means."

But she replied, almost as if she could hear me, "You can go back into your memories, reliving those precious lost moments. You can-"

I'd never noticed that part of the ad before. Without thinking -- admittedly, maybe still a little crossfaded from whatever powders and liquids and tablets we'd taken throughout the night -- I texted the number on the screen and placed my order, confirming the payment with a thumbprint on the screen. I fell back asleep, forgetting about the purchase almost immediately.

I woke up again around eleven on Sunday. I shot off a text to Jillian, my baby sister, that the party was great and I had a good time. I knew she had a lot of guilt about getting engaged after Callie, but I wanted her to be happy. Honest. I wasn't crazy about her fiance, but how often did older sisters really like the man who would never be good enough for their little sister? She texted back a million animated happy faces and popping bottles and celebration emojis.

I got ready for the day, not that I had anything important to do. Took a shower, brushed my teeth, changed from one pair of lounge clothes to another, had breakfast, and ended up back on the couch, now with my laptop open to all the emails I had to answer. You'd think that living in a world where half of people had android butlers would mean we'd outgrown the need for emails. But, no, I still had to check in about logistics for my latest gallery opening next weekend. I was an artist, a painter, another thing that often seemed like we'd outgrown it as a society.

I promised the curator for the hundredth time that I'd have the final piece finished in time. I lied and said I was practically done with it, just adding final touches and reworking perspective. In reality, I hadn't started. The whole collection was about space and humanity's new relationship with it now that commercial flights had started, and that was the last thing I wanted to think about lately.

The soft hum of a drone outside my door took my attention. Before it could send a notification to my phone, I opened the door. It verified my face, scanned the code on my phone, and gingerly set down the package, which was a bit bigger than a shoebox and wrapped like a gift in shiny silver paper. In raised holographic letters: ELYSIUM.

Deep breath, Juno. In and out.

I knew it was stupid to try to go plodding around in my memories with Callie. I knew it was the kind of thing my therapist would say was setting me back and everyone in my life would look at me with pity in their eyes for. But I couldn't resist. I'd sort of missed the VR craze when I was a kid, but, from what my younger siblings told me, it truly did feel real when you had the full package of sensors that activated your nerves and contracted your muscles.

Too nervous to open it right away, I set the box down on the couch and stared at it.

I opened up the box carefully. Inside, in a smaller, acetate box, were the glasses themselves, matte black and lifeless. Besides the glasses, there was a bag of reusable censors, an instruction booklet printed in a bunch of different languages, a wireless charging pad, and a stack of business card-sized glossy cards with QR codes on the back. Different pre-designed VRscapes you could drop into with just a scan.

Deciding that, as a beginner, it would be best to start from scratch, I sat down next to the box and flipped through the instructions, following every step deliberately.

If I wanted the most fleshed-out experience possible, the manual explained, I would need to allow access to all of my social media and my computer's drive so that it could, essentially, download the most of me and everyone I knew that was available. I didn't see the harm; all the class actions over VR data issues had been resolved years ago. While it worked on copying and transferring all of my files and profiles, I applied the censors on all the pressure points around my body that they recommended, one on each major muscle, then smaller ones on joints and sensitive areas. I couldn't help noticing that there were two pages listed as "optional enhancements," detailing how to rig the system to stimulate both male and female genitalia.

Well, if I was going to see Callie, I might as well commit to the full experience. It advised waxing the area, which I'd had done before the party last night anyway, so I tried to ignore the weirdness and self-shaming that came with touching sensors to my inner thighs, my labia, the skin above my clit, and even on either side of my asshole. The whole thing had cost a few hundred dollars -- a steal compared to the modern setups -- so I figured there was no point in denying myself any of the features.

As instructed, I got comfortable -- well, as comfortable as I could be covered in stickers and anxious about whatever was to come. I played white noise from my computer the way they recommended. Finally, I set an alarm for an hour from now. I'd heard that you could lose time once you put the glasses on because things passed at a dream-like pace, and I didn't want to fall behind on trying to actually work on the painting. The body-sized canvas had been sitting in my studio, staring through the walls, for weeks now.

I clicked the glasses on.

Everything around me turned white. A low voice said, "Calibrating for new user. This may take a few moments. Each sensor on your body will pulse once to ensure it's connected and in the right position; this is normal. If any of the pulses hurt or make you uncomfortable, they should be readjusted."

Just as the voice said, the sensors vibrated for a moment, one by one, starting at my scalp and working down. Each muscle -- like, every single one; the ones on my breasts and vulva definitely worked -- twitched as they relented to the new override system of electricity. Once the sensors were calibrated, the voice walked me through setting up my profile details. For my avatar, it had me put in the basics for now, and I decided to be truthful. 28, female, 5-foot-7, curvy, Korean. The voice told me that I'd build my physical avatar later on.

With the fundamentals set up, the voice let me know, "You'll now enter the Elysium terminal, where you'll finalize setup and master the controls before going off to explore on your own."

The white screen shimmered and disappeared into the verdant landscape from the infomercial. It reminded me of the old Windows screen I'd learned about in elementary school. WinCorp was an offshoot of that company, so it made sense. The sky was blue, a few wispy clouds above, and the air was the same temperature as my apartment. I wondered if that was because they couldn't control temperature or because that's the temperature I wanted.

The woman from the ad -- in her final form with a lavender bob and white tennis skirt -- appeared in front of me, which startled me a bit. Then, she greeted me with a perfectly white and straight smile. "I'm Ellie and I'll be guiding you through the tutorial. Unlike many VR and AR rigs, this one is controlled entirely by your mind."

That was the standard these days, but I refrained from telling her that she was outdated. Actually, could I even tell her anything? I tried to open up my mouth but it felt strangled and weird.

As if sensing my thoughts, Ellie said, "First, try out speaking. It's normal for it to feel strange at first without any sensors to stimulate your vocal cords, but most users adjust within a matter of seconds. Try not to think of it as 'speaking,' but as thinking, like your internal monologue."

I tried to speak again, this time focusing more on the words I wanted to say instead of the way they needed to be said. "Got it."

She beamed artificially. "Great job! See, you're a natural!"

She spent a few minutes walking me through the different menus, assuring me that I could say her name for help at any time, and teaching me the unique commands that would help me navigate and mold the world.

At the end of the tour, she said, "Now, we'll put the finishing touches on your avatar, who others will see you as. We've started by crafting a model based on your sensors and uploaded photos for your convenience. However, if you'd like to start from scratch, just touch the reset button. I'll let you have a minute to try things out yourself, but don't forget that I'm only a word away!"

She zipped out of my view. The hilly landscape was replaced by a comfortable white dressing room and vanity area. Touching different areas of the room -- the dresser, the makeup, the mirror -- activated corresponding menus. At the center, my avatar stood with a faraway smile and kind, neutral eyes. She was a version of me, certainly, but not quite me. She had my wide and bright monolid eyes, deep brown like my dad's had been. My full pink lips made up her friendly smile. Seeing myself as another person instead of a mirror image, I decided that I was prettier than I usually let myself consider.

There were slight differences, though, that made me think about what I was putting out online. Her skin was clearer, with none of the little pimples currently lining the edges of my hair. She was curvier, too, her waist slimmer with wider hips. I'd always been mid-size, but I lacked the contrast in shape that my avatar found. I didn't edit any of the photos I posted that she was based on, but the impact of choosing all the right angles and lighting and expressions was obvious. This was me, just the best version of me, as far as the computer was concerned.

I walked around her, the surreal becoming common as I got used to the idea. I gave her a typical outfit I'd wear -- a black halter crop top and vintage 2000s green patterned jeans. I didn't wear a lot of makeup, so I added some longer lashes and a glossy lip just to be fun.

Finally, I typed in our name: Juno Yun.

When I hit 'save,' I was dropped back into the empty green landscape. Without hesitation, I accessed the memory menu and concentrated hard on what I wanted to see. The censors on my forehead and the back of my neck were different from the rest, constantly humming softly, mixing with the white noise, as they accessed my cognition, combining thoughts and feelings and monologues with pictures and statuses.

The VRscape around me changed to the little diner below our old apartment, the first place we'd lived in after deciding to break our leases and be together in a new city for good. It was styled like the '50s, antique, with chrome and squeaky red pleather. I sat down in a booth, where there was already a lab-engineered burger -- this was the only place that used to have the good brand readily available -- with garlic parmesan fries and a chocolate shake.

I knew Callie was going to walk in soon, late from work and dripping in rain. I felt the bulge of her ring in my pocket. She'd never wanted a flashy proposal, just something simple and personal. I hoped this would fit the bill since we'd split countless appetizers here when Callie got back from missions on late nights. She was a medic for one of the companies working on terraforming Mars, which meant she'd spend days away and then days here readjusting. It was a strange life, and she promised she'd switch to something Earthside once we got married, but she never had the chance.

My fingers traced the smooth surface of the table, feeling the cold touch of the chrome edge. It brought back memories of us sitting here, sharing dreams, aspirations, and our plans for the future. As the rain intensified outside, the sound of droplets tapping on the window created a gentle rhythm that seemed to sync with my racing heartbeat. I took a sip of the chocolate shake, savoring its rich, velvety sweetness, just as I savored every moment with Callie when I still had her. This was the moment I wanted to relive first. Her breathtaking smile, the wetness clinging to her dark hair, the way she didn't care about it.

As the minutes ticked by, my anticipation grew, and I began to play with the ring in my pocket. I'd picked it out with the help of her mom, who insisted that an opal from the Martian crater Callie was dedicating her life to would make the perfect personalized touch. Distant thunder rumbled, and she would walk in with the lightning strike.

The door finally swung open. A gust of rainy air, fresh from the neighborhood's eco-friendly anti-smog initiative, swept through the diner. Instead of my Callie, though, another woman walked through the door on her cue. She was Callie's exact opposite: Short bobbed blonde hair just below her ears, feathery baby bangs on her forehead, features soft as sunshine, baby blue eyes, thinner than me. She wore a shiny, pale green jumpsuit with chunky holo boots. Very trendy right now. She took a few steps inside, wringing out her hair.

I couldn't come up with anything meaningful or smart today. This sort of mixup was supposed to be impossible. All I could manage was: "You're not supposed to be here."

Her voice was small and glitchy. She was as confused as me. "No, I- I think I'm lost."

We both called out in tandem, "Ellie!"

Ellie popped into existence between the two of us. She cocked her head to the side and a circular waiting gif rolled above her head. After a minute, she just glitched back out, fizzing and crackling until she was gone. The employees of the diner all froze, too, waiting signals covering their faces.

This woman and I were the only people in here. Awkwardly, I asked, "So do we just, like, disconnect and try again?"

As I reached up to open the save and exit menu, she ran toward me and yelled, "No! Don't do that!"

I startled back. "What? Why not? We'll just reset and wake up again."

"You'll just reset," she corrected. She dropped her head in her hands for a second, took a deep breath, and looked back up at me. "If your headset realizes that I didn't scan in here authentically, it'll automatically call the cops on me."

I tried not to glare. The grief and anger of not being able to see Callie when that's all I wanted hurt and burned. "Why shouldn't I let it? Clearly you're some kind of...I don't know...VR criminal thief or something."

"I'm not, I swear," she chuckled. I could tell she thought I was cute, not threatening, so she explained, "I'm just a programmer. A hacker, I guess, would be the absolute meanest word for what I do. I'm the girl who catches the VR criminal thieves or somethings."

I squinted. "You're a cop? That's even worse."

"No." She snorted. "Half the criminals are cops. The other half are politicians or millionaires or both. It's a nasty, corrupt system out there. They're using the more dated tech so that they can traffic all sorts of shit from the dark web without detection. I work for the International Ethics Commission. Freelance."

I nodded slowly. I'd heard about jobs like that, but I'd never met someone who actually worked one. It was one of those professions that sounded weird and new-agey, even to a woman whose fiancee had mostly worked on Mars. Things were evolving so fast around us all the time these days that it was hard to keep up with all the different parts of it, especially the pieces that people on the fringes of the law wanted to abuse.

She sucked in another deep breath and explained, "The point is that the asshole I'm trying to snag right now -- richer than God, this fucking pedo -- has updated his security systems using some of the best coders I know. Every time I try to write new code to get through it, I keep getting dropped into different people's VRscapes."

"Gotcha."

She added, "So if you could just approve my code in your settings to make it look like I came in here on purpose, that would scrub my digital footprint for now to help me hide."

"Okay, sure." I opened up my user menu and scrolled through it, trying to find 'friends' or 'add users.' "Uh, how do I do that?"

She chuckled again. "Oh, you're super new, huh?" The woman walked me through confirming her as an allowed user in my Elysium. Once I had finished, she said, "Would it be alright if I hung around for a while before you disconnected? A visit this short between two people who are long distance always looks weird."

Not wanting to be rude and admittedly intrigued, I said, "Um, sure. Let's get out of here specifically, though. Anywhere you want to...?"

"I'll bring you back to my place. I can teach you some fun tricks in exchange for your virtual hospitality."

We stood up and she opened her own menu, which I couldn't see as she sifted through it. In a second, we were outside the yellow door of a cute house. I thought we might be in San Francisco based on the rows of pastel houses and hilly streets, a world away from my apartment in Boston.

The woman unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a modern interior. Once we were both inside, she extended her hand and said, "I'm Noemi, by the way. Noemi Jenks."

"Juno Yun." I shook her hand. I hadn't touched another person yet, and I was shocked at how real it felt. How real it was, honestly. It's not like she was just touching a fictional projection of me; in a way, she was touching the real me, the sensors that informed every movement. "Wow, that's really something."