The Problem With Immortality Ch. 04

********

President Killjoy was on an old fashioned phone when Marvin entered the Oval Office.

"Dear, it's time for dinner," he whispered.

She held up a finger indicating one moment, and spoke into the phone. "Yes, I mean all of them. Schools should start teaching Hunt the Zipper classes in the Third Grade. We need kids to be streetwise and smart so they don't catch socially transmitted diseases and will know what to do when the time comes. And remind them that until they build separate bathrooms for all seven genders, that All of the Aboves, Not Sures, He/She/Us/Thems, Cyborg Input/Output Dataports, Bermuda Triangles, and TBAs are equally welcome in all girl's bathrooms and locker rooms. Anything else is discrimination which will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Yes, thank you very much. Good evening."

She slammed down the phone. "Honey, I'm exhausted."

They had been in the simulation for twelve days. Marjorie had enacted a whirlwind agenda:

1) raising the top marginal tax rate to 90%,

2) passing a law requiring all women to be paid the same as all men (regardless of how hard or how long they worked),

3) dismantling the border fence with Mexico and welcoming unfettered immigration,

4) integrating the seven genders into the military,

5) legalizing safe spaces for people to inject heroin and cocaine in a welcoming and supportive medical environment,

6) approving an "afterthought" bill which would legalize "retroactive" abortion into the tenth month,

and a whole host of other initiatives.

And she only had two days left! There simply wasn't enough time to do everything she wanted to.

She got up, went around her desk, and gave Marvin a welcoming kiss. "How was your day?"

"Good," said Marvin. "I've been watching old 20th century movies. Rambo. The original Star Wars. Terminator, Rocky."

Marjorie made a face. "Movies filled with violence. And nearly all white men."

"Yeah," said Marvin, grinning.

"That reminds me, I have to put a cinema act before Congress, to install racial and sexual quotas in movie casting," said Marjorie.

"Oh dear, please don't. At least, not until I've seen all the movies I want to see," said Marvin. "And I hear you're going to ban golf and auto racing! I love playing golf and watching auto races!"

"Auto racing glorifies individual transportation and toxic male machisimo," said Marjorie. "It sets a bad example."

"And golf?"

"Golf rips up large pieces of the environment. It's incredibly destructive. If you want to play a sport, you should play whiffle darts."

"Whiffle darts?"

"Little crinkly balls you throw at dart boards. You'll love it, dear."

"Why not play with actual darts?"

"Darts are militaristic phallic man tools of war. They set a bad example for the little ones. We can't have that." She put an arm around him."Come, dear, I'm exhausted. Let's talk more over dinner."

The White House dining room was a perfect picture of elegance. Elegantly dressed servants delivered Beef Wellington on the fine White House China. Marjorie and Marvin both sat at one end of a long table, which was usually reserved for banquets.

"I was thinking, dear," she said, while she ate. "Our time is up in two days. What if we extended it?"

"Extended it?"

"What if we talked to that nice Mr. Amadiro about staying in here a little longer?"

"How long?"

"Maybe a few years."

"A few years?" Marvin was incredulous.

"It's not like the Dreamscape. Our bodies won't deteriorate or suffer any ill effects."

"But it's not real," said Marvin.

"But it feels real. I feel needed here," said Marjorie. "And there are things you like. Old movies, football, golf, eating real meat, auto racing."

"All things you are in the process of outlawing."

"I'll tell you what," said Marjorie. "We can do this in cycles."

"Cycles?"

"Each cycle can last, say, 6 months. That's how long I think it will take to enact all my social and economic reforms. You'll start to lose some of your fun man activities, but you won't lose them all until 6 months have elapsed."

"And then?"

"And then we reboot the system and start again from the beginning," said Marjorie, her eyes blazing.

"You would want to do that? To replay this same scenario over and over?"

"Yes," said Marjorie. "At least for a while. You have no idea how much virtue I feel when I do something righteous. When I ban plastic straws, or cars, or eating red meat, I feel like I have the Goddess Aura herself acting through me, as I carry out Nurda Gababba, to heal the planet. I'm convinced I was born in the wrong time. I was meant to be born 700 years earlier, here, where I was needed most. And each cycle can have individual variations. Why, we can go back to the time of slavery and free the slaves! Or go to the era of women suffrage, and fight for their rights. And then there was the time of the first civil rights movement, the Black Lives Matter movement, the Sharia Law Matters coalition, the Absolute Equality Virtue Seekers, and all the great social movements of the 20th, 21st, and 22nd century."

Marvin sighed. He didn't really want to spend his life in a simulation. But there were some aspects he enjoyed... before Marjorie got around to outlawing them. Fundamentally, though, it was her happiness he cared about.

"All right dear. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy," said Marvin.

"I love you so much." And Mrs. President reached over and gave the First Man a passionate kiss.

********

The next morning Anson winced as he sat down at breakfast. "Well, look at you. Now you're the sore one," Jessica teased him. "How was she?"

"You knew?" said Anson.

"Of course I knew. I arranged it."

"What?" said Anson.

"George Washington came to me this yesterday. He told me you were dissatisfied with his harem. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do for you. He's truly a considerate host, he wants you to be happy. I may have let slip a thing or two about Jennifer-"

"And he spoke to Amadiro, who produced a Jennifer robot," said Anson.

"Well, they didn't have to produce a robot from scratch. All they needed was one with the right body type, and they made the face and voice from samples I supplied them." She looked at his face. "What's wrong?"

"You shouldn't have done that," said Anson.

"Didn't you enjoy her?"

"I did. But you shouldn't have done that," he said tightly. Anson had enjoyed Jennifer, as much as he had enjoyed anything in this place. He had enjoyed plunging in and out of her, watching her expression as she climaxed, enjoying the feeling of spraying her insides with his seed... but it wasn't real. It was all a simulation. A very enjoyable simulation, but a simulation nonetheless.

After breakfast, they said their goodbyes to the Pharaoh and the Pharaohess.

"We're so happy to have had you here," said Marsha Washington, the Pharaohess, very sincerely.

"We're so sad to see you go. Please, come again, any time. Really," said George Washington. "You'll have to come back, just to see the Sphinx, when it's done."

"I will," Anson promised.

A slave led them out of the simulation, out of the warehouse, and back to the war torn streets of Detroit. They went back to their hotel, the luxury ten star Hilton in Detroit, luxurious not only because of the amenities, but also because of the armed guards, electric fences, and mine fields around the perimeter.

"I think we're done here," said Jessica.

"That we are," Anson confirmed.

"Good. Then let's call Odour and tell him what we've found."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"This won't work for him," said Anson.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's a simulation."

"But it feels so real."

"It only feels real because you haven't lived life long enough to know what life is really like."

"And you do? You're an expert on life in ancient Egypt?"

"Enough to know that what we saw and experienced was a total sham," said Anson. "It was more like a glamorized version of an amusement park than a simulation. Slaves were eagerly cheering their Pharaoh's name, even while they performed backbreaking work. How real was that?"

"Well," said Jessica considering. "Now that you mention it, their enthusiasm did seem a little... out of place. But when we were living in the moment, it was totally intoxicating!"

"Happy slaves. No slave revolts. Perfect weather. No labor problems. No palace intrigue. An obelisk that could be built in a day, a Sphinx in four days."

"It's supposed to be enjoyable."

"And it was enjoyable. But it was also so unrealistic, so unrealistic that a sophisticated man like Odour would reject it instantly."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Just look at George Washington and Marsha."

"What about them?"

"Did you notice how they were constantly seeking our approval?"

"They wanted us to be happy!"

"It was more than that. They were needy. They needed real people to appreciate what they were experiencing to validate what they doing. They weren't getting that validation from the robots or the holograms. It seemed to me that George and Marsha were enjoying it all one level, but on another, perhaps subconscious level, they were dissatisfied because they knew it was unreal."

"Well, they sure looked happy to me."

"You haven't lived very long."

"I'm 72 years old!" Jessica said, as she lay back in her cosmetically 22 year old body.

"As I said," said Anson.