Her Happiness

Her Happiness

Summer. Two teenage girls, sitting side by side on a bench, chatting.

It was forty years ago. Back when teens still were sent to camps in the summer, the VR sets weren’t so advanced and immersive. Back when I was a youngster, head filled with fragile bubbles of dreams about the future. 

The campsite before us was illuminated by the dusk light, and the scenery before us was painted with the vibrant sunset colors, just like those from the old Virginia travel posters. Soon there would be a bonfire, the smell of  marshmallows and s’mores would fill the air, kids would cheer and shout. 
But now, it was quiet enough.The other campers were chilling in the dining hall while we took a walk.

“After this summer we will be 17…” I said to no one in particular.

“Hmm.” Blythe hummed in agreement, swinging her legs.

Blythe was a friend from school. At the start of the year, we were the two students who got left out and didn’t have lab partners, so we worked together. And she - being naturally talented at everything she learns, decided to be friends with me - the one who was clumsy and needed to practice before getting things right. Probably because she didn’t like studying, and the only thing I was okay at was writing exam questions.

We weren’t the closest of friends, but we got along. We both had brown eyes, and black hair – both incredibly uncharacteristic. We were both somewhat older, more detached – we would be the ones sitting on the sidelines while the other kids ran around and screamed. 

And when we got home, we’d both be on the Internet - although when we got home, both of our intentions were to do schoolwork, but soon we’d both end up getting distracted by youtube or tiktok. Or both. We’d often text each other at 3am, getting confused about the homework that was due 3 hours ago, at midnight. We’d both throw unfinished agendas and to-do lists into the trash. 

“Soon I will be in university.” She yawned. “I’ve had enough of high school. I’d rather be in bed than listen to the teacher’s stupid lectures.”

“I doubt that will change when we get into university.” I was in doubt.

“Hmm, maybe.” She said, “ But at least I will be living on my own, and my parents won’t be screaming at me to do the housework. I can lie in bed and stream youtube in peace.”

I chuckled quietly. Classic Blythe - she would often whisper to me in class and say something like “ah I’m so tired, this is so boring, I want to go home.” Sometimes she will sneak her phone under her desk and chat with her boyfriend, who was one ocean away. And most of the time I shared her sentiments 100 percent. Maybe that’s what united us - laziness.

“What major did you choose?” I asked, as she told me she has already applied for a university.

She looked downwards, her face indifferent. “Doesn’t really matter to me. I know you really wanted to go into literature. But I just… don’t care. I mean, a job is a job, isn’t it? So I went with computer science.”

“Computer science…?” I was surprised. Considering that she was good at math, the job was fair enough. 

Well, who am I to judge? I knew I’d like to do something related to literature, but I’m always procrastinating, being unproductive, losing myself on the Internet. Do slackers like us really have the right to choose, and the strength to follow through what we have chosen?

But, Blythe told me she liked designing once - she would often buy pretty dresses for her game characters, and she would draw on her iPad when she was in the mood for it. She did tell me once that she was not serious about designing, as it wasn’t popular in the job market. 

And yet, computer science - sitting before a desk all day, coding, drinking coffee, sorting through numbers - was the farthest thing away from her interests. I looked into her brown eyes, and she seemed… serious. At least, earnest enough. Like a regular college student.

“Will you be happy?” I asked, concerned.

“Well, after I have money, I can stop working, and buy all the gaming equipment I want. Maybe then, I will be happy. After all, that’s all I’m working for - the pursuit of happiness.”

“The pursuit of happiness…” I echoed. I didn’t really know what brings me happiness anymore - sometimes I felt so hollow after laughing at funny videos on tik tok, but sometimes I felt so satisfied when I slammed shut the cover of a century old textbook. 

Blythe looked at me, sensing that I was probably judging. “I know some would frown upon me and say that digital entertainment is meaningless, that I am wasting my time, blah blah blah. But you? Sticking your head into books, writing essays - will you be happy? Are you happy?”

Happy? I could not answer. Everything seems so blurred and untrue - the Internet merged with reality, the AI’s voice was fusing with human one. Even the sunset before me - all was a blurry mess of orange and blue and yellow. But out of the chaos, I felt that a path had diverged in the woods - Blythe and I, we have such similar personalities, but I knew, even then, that we would probably not meet again.

***

And as I sat here on a bench, I reminisced about the old days – as old people often did

“Are you happy?” 

I thought about the question that seemed so out of place, 40 summers ago.

Am I happy?

I have achieved my dream of teaching literature at a local university. But it was hardly something that I felt glad about. I wrote stories and papers that no one reads, and recited Shakespearean references that none of the students knew. 

Teaching to the young ones who would rather be on their phones – it was like teaching to the dead.

However, the schools were the only place that remained where the Internet did not dictate – the school was like a sanctuary, where the noise of mass entertainment could be kept out. The temples, the kids would joke. We, the professors, were like monks and nuns, pushing away technology and “happiness”, focusing on human arts.

In some ways, I am like a monk, pushing away the VR technologies, pushing away the happiness the Internet vowed to offer. I am like an ascetic - because I feared that I would sink too deep into virtual reality, I decided to make a clean break. Decades ago, I smashed all my phones and cut off the Internet. I confined myself within the walls of the “temple”. 

Temples were dying anyway. 
So were the things I consider as literature. 
So was I.

But was I happy?

I thought about the tea parties that the anti-VR professeurs organized every week. We would cook real food, talk about our favorite books, or listen to the rain.

I thought about the small local bar I often go to, sipping one of their handmade beers, strumming old songs on my guitar, and looking at the imperfect-but-real faces of others.

I even picked up running. I was always the slowest kid in physical education, but now I run around just to see the scenery and feel the wind. 

And now, I sit, alone in a desolated park, watching nothing, feeling nothing. 

I thought - maybe I am happy.

Not in ecstasy, not in thrills. But the world seemed so real. Illuminated, illustrated by the sun whose light carved out colors and shadows, one thousand megawatts of light and heat.

I could even feel a slight smile dancing at the corners of my lips.

“Ma’am.” A delivery man came, and handed me a small envelope.

“From the cocoons.” His face looked grim. “Good day.” He nodded, and left.

“Ah, a letter.” How long has it been since I received any of these?

“From the cocoon institution.” The envelope read, in a serious black font. The envelope was also uncharacteristically white, lacking any human touches.

I had heard of the cocoons – it was basically a massive VR center, where people spent time in immersive VR sets 24/7. “People there were basically sealed off from life. Cocoons of lost souls”, one of my anti-VR colleagues had declared. And I opened the envelope, wondering how they knew my address.

Inside was a neatly folded letter, and a silicon chip the size of my palm. Blythe, the label on the chip read.

Oh.

My heart sank. Why had she not come to see me herself?

I opened the folded letter and began to read.

“Dear Ms. x,

This is to inform you that Cocoon user #8262962387, Blythe’s VR subscription has expired. She sent you this following message with an attachment. Have a nice day, and we look forward to seeing you at the Cocoon institution!

Message:


Hi? Hi, x? Hi. It's been so long. Do you even remember me?

Wow this feels so weird. I’ve not spoken to anyone outside in a long time, this is the first time I’m using this function.

Yeah in case you are wondering, I’m still in the VR world right now, though they pinged me to say that my time’s running out, so I should call everyone on my contacts. Not that it has any meaning anyways, I was hardly in touch with any of you.

In case you are so old-fashioned that you don’t know how cocoons work – well you probably don’t know how, being the antique that you were – the cocoon users’ body expires after a while because of the strain that VR sets create on us. 

It’s all complicated science, I don’t really know about it. But I think that they say when my brain is plugged into the cocoon, my body is inactive, so my muscles start to decay; but my senses are constantly stimulated, they might get tired and wear out - they will expire more quickly than in real life. So… when I come out of the cocoon, I will be too weak to speak and do stuff. Hope my health insurance still works… Anyways, they say that in the next generation of VR sets, the strain will be smaller, so I might still have a chance to return to the cocoon.

Hey, you’ve never been in a VR set, have you? You were such a nerd, ehe. VR is so much more fun than the videos and video games we played, all those years ago! You should definitely try this someday, it might relax you a little bit.

Ahh… geez, it has been so long! The last time we met was before I went to university, right?

Hmm, yeah, also, I remembered you being all serious and asking about my future and happiness. Haha, you sounded like my mom, did you know that? 

Well, I am very happy here. In the cocoon, I meet new people everyday – no, correction: I meet new boyfriends everyday. And… I can draw up dresses whenever I feel like I’m in the mood for it. I make money by designing avatars, so I’m not poor any more… I have a petit villa here I built for myself, so I finally realized my dream of having a HUGE bed where I can binge videos 24/7. So yeah, every day I get to laugh, and no annoying things ever happen here because I can block them.

Heh, I hope you are happy too! Probably not as happy as I am though haha. Let me see - oh right, the system had said that your phone was unreachable since… decades ago. Wow Protag, what the heck were you doing? I still have your address here… should be good then.

Well, I’ll send you a copy of my character files. It’s data the system collected for me over the years. I hear the companies will be able to fully reproduce a human brain digitally soon! Isn’t that cool? There are prototypes out already, where the person’s physical bodies have died away but their avatars still act exactly as they did. 

So, I want to leave a copy of me with you, just in case I can be reborn this way. The company said I don’t have much time, my brain’s… err, visual cortex? is failing or something. So thanks! See you – though I’ll probably never see you again. Just wanted to tell you that I’m happy, and to tell you: don’t pity me. Anyways, I hope this reaches you, heh. Bye! End call.”

I ran my thumb over the smooth, cold surface of the paper. Blythe seemed happy – actually, she was happier than I had ever seen her. She laughed so much, and I imagined her brown eyes twinkling – but her avatar probably didn’t have boring brown eyes like hers and mine.

She had realized her dream of becoming a dress designer after all. But knowing her, I wonder how long she kept at the job. And even when she does tire of drawing dresses, the cocoon will entertain her with new contents, so I doubt I have to worry.

Ah, but she is gone now. The physical body became too weak to contain her real soul, her digital body dissolving into ones and zeros that create a stream of blue light, a stream of happiness and beauty that condenses into the silicon chip the size of my palm.

Blythe. Blithe. 

I held the silicon chip in my hand, allowing it to sit against my palm. The ones and zeros of her happiness were now condensed on this tiny chip. 

Her happiness. My happiness.

Two roads diverged in the woods, and none was more noble than the other.