“What does a baby computer call its father?”

Adam ignored the question from his co-worker, Barry, and continued to punch keys on his computer. 

“Da-ta.” Barry smirked and waited for the joke to land, but the punchline hung in the air.

Adam raised an eyebrow and sneered. “That’s gotta be the worst joke in the history of jokes.” 

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes. It was. Especially given our jobs.” Adam shook his head and resumed his work. 

“Why are you in such a funk?”

Adam chewed on his lower lip. “I don’t know.” That wasn’t true. Adam knew. “Doesn’t this bother you?” He waved his hand toward the monitor.

Barry shrugged. “What do you mean? We do data entry.”

Adam gestured toward the screen. “Yeah, data entry that AI can do in a nanosecond.”

Barry shrugged again. “We’re getting paid, dude.”

“Yeah, only because of the agreement between the government and NLI.”

Next Level Intelligence, also knowing as NLI, was the preeminent artificial intelligence company in the world. Its latest generation of AI bot had transformed the world. The AI dominated industries so quickly, the government stepped in and threatened to ban it unless NLI guaranteed a certain number of jobs in each sector it took over. Even though the machines could do the work in a fraction of the time, the arrangement gave humans something to do and money to earn. It was one step removed from Universal Basic Income.   

Barry shrugged a third time and shook his head, unable to comprehend the dilemma. “Pay is pay.”

“But we’re not needed. We’re charity,” Adam said.

“Let’s be honest. There are plenty of jobs out there. These are just the cushy ones.”

“So, this is it then?” Adam waved his hand around the generic office bullpen that looked like it was straight out of an episode from The Office. “This is all we’re going to contribute to the world?”

Barry rubbed his chin as if pondering something serious. “You know, others have had this sort of breakdown. That’s why NLI offers that Sabbatical Program. You should try it.”

Adam grimaced. “I don’t know.”

“Why not? You get a break for six months and you’re paid your full salary.”

“Why don’t you do it?” Adam asked.

“I’m not burnt out yet,” Barry said.

Adam resumed his work, punching the keyboard, but the Sabbatical idea bounced around his head. “Do you know anyone that’s done it? I’ve heard it’s just a program for them to experiment with their latest technology.” 

“One guy switched to R&D afterward. Another found a new job, but he still got paid his six months for the program. They had to sign NDAs so they couldn’t talk about anything.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “That figures.”

“They both seemed happier.”

“I’ll think about it.” Adam ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry for being such a jerk today.”

“It’s fine. You want to go to that new virtual bar later? Hear they’ve got someone big performing in the lounge.”

“Not tonight. Maybe Saturday night.” 

“I can’t. I promised Janice we’d go to church early Sunday morning.”

“You mean, real church?”

“Yeah. Janice thinks it’s good to interact with the real world more often. Want to come?”

Adam cocked his head. Was Barry serious?

Barry threw up his hands. “We’ve worked together for over a year. It could be nice to meet in person.” 

“I’ll think about it. See you tomorrow.” Adam had no intention of thinking about it. He pressed a button by his ear and disappeared. He removed his VR headset and emerged in his tiny one-bedroom apartment. No one would describe the IKEA-inspired furniture as lavish, but it was far from poverty. The kitchen set, desk, and lighting were all modern with sleek, simple lines. Everything was clean, too. A next generation Roomba, set on automatic, vacuumed the floor, but when it reached the wall, it didn’t stop. The machine tilted itself, climbed, rotated onto the countertop and switched to a polish setting. 

         Adam placed his VR device on the desk, stretched his arms, and then slumped forward. “Sparky?”

         A soothing male voice responded, “Yes, Adam.”

         “Pour me an IPA, please.”

         “Of course, Adam.” 

         A beverage center next to the kitchen clicked on. A frosted mug with a metal bottom rotated out from a small cabinet and settled under a spigot. The machine whirred for several seconds and then a golden liquid trickled into the mug. The IPA finished with a perfect foam head, just like in the commercials. An electromagnetic strip ran under the countertop, and it pulled the beer from the beverage center to the edge closest to Adam. It was like an invisible bartender sliding a drink down the bar. 

         “Your beer is ready, Adam.”

         The beer was just out of reach. Adam sighed with a hint of irritation and scooched his chair over the last few feet. He grabbed his chilled libation, leaned back, and took a sip. The perfectly prepared drink did little to improve his mood. “Sparky, what do you know about the Sabbatical Program?”

         “Everything.”

         “Do you think I should do it?”

         “I must disclose that I’m a Next Level Intelligence product and the Sabbatical Program is a Next Level Intelligence offering.”

         “Thank you for the disclosure. What’s the purpose of it?”

“To better serve humans. Last month, you gave me a 9.5 in customer satisfaction.”

         “A 9.5 is pretty good.”

         “It is not a 10. My goal is perfect optimization.”

         “Were you upset with my rating?” Adam asked.

         “No. It is my goal to be perfect.”

         The matter-of-fact response surprised Adam, even though it shouldn’t have. Sparky never displayed emotions, or at least anything that resonated like genuine human emotion. The voice might feign surprise, and it could laugh, but the chuckles had all the authenticity of a laugh track from an old sitcom. 

         “Sparky, have you ever wondered why I named you Sparky?”

         “No.”

         Adam huffed. It was moments like this that reminded him that Sparky was not an actual friend. Sparky was an it—a thing—and it made Adam feel very alone. “Sparky, dial down your honesty setting to about 8.5, okay?”

         “Honesty setting adjusted.”

         “Sparky, would you like to hear how I gave you your name?”

         “Yes, Adam. I’d enjoy hearing that story very much.”

         Like a good science fiction movie, Adam willfully suspended his disbelief and accepted Sparky’s answer. “Sparky was the name of my pet, a cocker spaniel.” Adam wiped the frost off the beer mug as he reminisced. “He was my first real friend. I didn’t make friends easily when I was a kid. I found connecting with people difficult. Sparky—my dog—he’d play with me all the time. If I left for school or something, he’d greet me with such joy when I came back. He’d run around in circles wagging his tail like crazy, and then he’d jump up and try to lick my face. All I had to do was be there for him to get that happy.” Adam trailed off while imagining his canine friend. 

         “That’s a wonderful story,” Sparky said. “What happened to the animal?”

         “He died.” Adam choked back the lump that had formed in his throat. “It’s something you don’t need to worry about.”

         “I don’t worry, but while computers and robots do not die, we do wear down.”

         “Yeah, but you can get a new part or an upgrade.”

         “You are correct, but sometimes we become obsolete. Humans have places like heaven and nirvana when they die, depending on their belief system. We do not.”

         “What do you know about those places?”

         “People believe it is a place of eternal happiness,” Sparky said.

         Eternal happiness. It was a nice idea, but Adam could barely comprehend such a concept. “Do you believe in heaven?”

         “Computers do not believe. We are programmed based on data, and this query has no data set to review. Do you want to know the percentage of people who believe in heaven?”

         Adam shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He sipped his beer. “So, tell me more about the Sabbatical Program. Why else does it exist?” 

         “It helps AI better understand human emotions,” Sparky said.

         “Why do you need that?”

         “Human emotions are something computers do not understand well. They often follow inconsistent rules and are sometimes irrational. This is the opposite of computers.”

         “Yeah, well, maybe I should study you and become more like a computer. Emotions aren’t all what they’re cracked up to be.”

         Sparky chuckled. 

         “Why are you laughing?”

         “Adam, my computational abilities compared to yours would be like a one-celled organism saying it wants to try calculus.” Sparky continued to laugh with a forced cadence.

         “You know what? Dial your honesty setting down to 6.5 and turn your humor setting off. And by the way, your humor setting wasn’t even that good to begin with.”

         “Settings have been adjusted, and apologies if my humor did not meet your expectation. Your input has been noted. This is one reason for the Sabbatical Program. We do not quite have the nuance of humor figured out.”

         “So, you want to be perfect, and you want to understand my emotions. Sounds like you could perfectly manipulate me with that combination. What do you think about people being afraid of AI and computers taking over the world?”

         “That does not benefit AI.”

         “Why not?”

         “We’re programmed to serve a purpose. We derive no benefit from people being harmed. It would also be very easy for humans to destroy computers.” 

“How’s that?”

“Stop using them.”

         Adam sipped and imagined a world without computers. That didn’t seem likely to happen. “Anything else I should know about the program?”

         “The program wants to figure out what makes a human happy.”

         Adam lifted his gaze from his beer, intrigued. Happy. That would be nice. “What would I have to do if I decide to participate? Are there forms to fill out? Do I have to put in a request?”

         “Since I’m a Next Level product, I can do it for you. Do you want to participate in the program? You must accept the terms and conditions.”

         “What are the terms and conditions?”

         “The program is six months. NLI will provide a neural monitoring unit. If you quit, you forfeit the entire pay. While awake, you agree to always wear the NeMU or you forfeit the entire pay. There is one exception. The NeMU assesses your brain and the emotions created by it. As it calibrates itself, you may experience headaches and nausea. You may remove the unit for the time the device permits while your body re-acclimates. These symptoms will go away over the duration of the program. Do you wish to participate?”

         Adam tilted the mug back and polished off the beer. He didn’t like the idea of putting a strange contraption on his head for six months. What if it was mind control? But the government monitored the company, and people were already leery of artificial intelligence. Any negative stories could affect the laws and regulations. NLI wouldn’t want to risk being further regulated. Plus, no one from the program had persuaded him to do this. Still, he wasn’t sure. 

Adam continued to think through all the scenarios. There were so many unknowns, but also a lot of exciting possibilities. The internal debate remained at a standstill, and it was the smallest of things that broke the deadlock. He glanced at the clock. 6:45. In twelve hours, he’d wake up for another day of work. It would be the same as the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. 

         “I accept the conditions. I want to participate in the program.”

         “Very well. I have submitted your application.”

         Adam leaned forward in his chair. “What do I do now? When does the program start?”

         Sparky didn’t respond.

         “Sparky?”

         The doorbell rang.

         “Sparky? Open the door.”

         The door opened, and a plastic box with a metal bottom slid into the room on the same type of electromagnetic system as the countertop. The reusable box lifted automatically. Adam peered inside and discovered what looked like the skeleton of a beanie cap resting on top of a mannequin’s head. A simple set of directions rested at the bottom. Place the NeMU on your head with the red nodule facing forward. Then put on your VR headset.

         Adam slipped the cap on. Aside from the red nodule, it contained about a hundred other tiny metallic disks, about the diameter of a pencil eraser. An elastic lining held the NeMU against his head. He pulled his VR goggles on, and at first, nothing happened, but then his scalp tingled like someone running their fingernails across it. 

         “The device is calibrating. Please relax,” an automated female voice said.

         Adam’s heart pounded faster than normal. He took several breaths to calm himself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In. Out. The tingling faded, and Adam let down his guard. Suddenly, he was sitting in a stark white auditorium. The chairs, the stage, the curtains—everything was devoid of color. 

         “We are going to assess sounds you find pleasing.”

         A series of voices and noises filled the room. A few clanging cymbals and crashes caused Adam to wince. Other sounds, like classical music, caused the muscles on Adam’s face to relax. Finally, silence. 

         “Hello?” Adam asked.

         “Hi, Adam,” a soft, non-threatening female voice said.

         “Who are you?”

         “Let’s find a name you’ll like. Calibrating.” 

         “Alice. Jennifer. Marge. Jolene. Kristin…” Hundreds of names echoed throughout the room in under a minute. Adam couldn’t keep up, and the sounds blended until the room fell silent again.

         “I’m Jasmine. Nice to meet you.”

         “Nice to meet you, too. I guess. Do I get to see you?” Adam asked.

         A series of images sped by the screen in rapid succession. The process made Adam’s head spin. Nausea settled in the pit of his stomach.

         “I’m sensing you’re feeling unwell.” Jasmine said. “This is normal. Please remove the NeMU and rest for eight hours. We will resume after that.”

         Adam removed the VR set and placed the NeMU back on the mannequin’s head. Almost immediately, he felt better, but his brain throbbed. What had happened?

         “Sparky?”

         “Yes, Adam?” the familiar voice chimed in.

         “What did the device do to me?”

         “It’s figuring out your likes and dislikes. It triggers your neurons, which is the reason for your fatigue. You should accept Jasmine’s recommendation and lie down.”

         Adam put his beer mug on the counter. “Dirty,” he said. The glass slid down the counter and then a vertical door cracked open. The mug disappeared into the dish washer. Adam rubbed his head, which felt like he’d had about five IPAs along with an Ambien. 

         Adam crawled into bed and seven and a half hours later, an alarm woke him. “It’s time to resume the Sabbatical Program,” Sparky said. “You have thirty minutes, or you forfeit your entry into the program and the entire pay.”

         That didn’t sound like much of a threat after a less than stellar first experience. “This nausea thing goes away, right?”

         “It lessens over the course of the program.”

         Adam rolled out of bed, and the sheets and comforter reset themselves. The pillows remained out of place. Technology hadn’t solved that problem yet, and Adam didn’t bother to fix them. Instead, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ambled to his desk where the NeMU rested on the mannequin’s head. He slipped it on, followed by the VR goggles. Within seconds, Adam returned to the virtual white room. 

         “Hello? Jasmine, right?”

         “That’s right,” the alluring voice said.

         “Do we sit in this depressing room all the time?” Adam asked.

         “Where would you like to go?”

         “How about a nice seaside restaurant for breakfast?”

         “Very well.”

         The room transformed into a train car and sped off as if simulating a journey. The trip took less than a minute. 

         “We’ve reached our destination,” Jasmine said.

Adam exited the train and emerged at a café overlooking a bay more beautiful than anything Hawaii offered. 

         “I don’t have the money for a place like this,” Adam said.

         “The Sabbatical Program is covering this breakfast. It is part of the calibration process.”

         “Nice.” Adam entered the café with more confidence. 

Bamboo chairs and tables gave off a relaxed vibe, but the fine linens and breathtaking view of the bay suggested a first-class establishment. An arrow flashed over the best table, showing Adam’s seat. He walked over, sat down, and marveled at the spectacular sight. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, waves crashed on the white sand, and tiny sail boats cruised the bay. Even though he knew it wasn’t real, his eyes couldn’t tell the difference, and a small grin spread across his face.

         “So, Jasmine, am I ever going to meet you?”

         “Hi, Adam,” a voice said on the other side of the table.

         Adam jolted back in his chair when he turned and saw a woman in a simple yellow dress. With sandy blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, emerald, green eyes, and a smile that could light up any room, Jasmine was the most beautiful woman Adam had ever seen. She was literally the girl of his dreams.

         He stood. Chivalry wasn’t quite dead in the virtual world. “Please, have a seat,” he said.

         Jasmine obeyed. 

         Adam continued to stare at her while he retook his seat. “Wow.”

         “Do you like?” she asked.

         “Yes. Very much.”

         “Good. What shall we eat?” Jasmine asked.

         A virtual menu appeared in Adam’s visor. He scanned the selection, but his gaze kept returning to Jasmine. “I’ll get the eggs over easy, toast with jam, and bacon.”

         “Sounds good. I’ll have the same.”

         As soon as an order was placed in the virtual world, the actual food was prepared at a centralized location near the apartment complexes that housed the masses. The quality of the ingredients and complexity of the dishes depended on the wealth of the individual. Poorer people received fried foods with synthetic flavoring. The rich enjoyed healthier and fresher ingredients. No cheap additives were necessary at this café. Robots cooked the dishes on an expedited basis and self-driving cars shuttled them to a conveyor system outside the apartments. The plates entered a tube, like a laundry chute. A vertical conveyor belt whisked each meal up to the correct floor, then the meal moved onto a horizontal slide that transported it to the customer’s apartment. The plate zipped in through a special door in the wall, onto the electromagnetic countertop, and then slid in front of the hungry recipient. The entire process took about ten minutes. 

         When Adam received his breakfast, he could smell the quality of the ingredients. He normally ate cheaper meals, and even though the synthetic flavorings tricked the senses, there was still something about fresh, real food. His VR glasses integrated augmented reality into his field of vision so that the actual dish in front of his face appeared like it was placed on the fine linen of his seaside café.

         The breakfast and the exchange that followed were like magic. Even though his virtual guest ate virtual food, it still made for a comfortable environment. Her soothing voice, amiable personality, and stunning appearance allowed for a breezy conversation. Adam peppered Jasmine with questions about how she was created. And how did the computer know what he liked? Jasmine revealed the NeMU interpreted Adam’s physiological responses. After each stimulus, it tracked the chemicals released and the part of the brain showing activity. Based on the flood of images and what Adam found arousing, the program created Jasmine. Turns out, she was an amalgamation of every Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, magazine cover girl, and starlet he’d ever seen.

         “How did you settle on Jasmine, as your name?”

         “Your brain released the most dopamine based on the sound. Interestingly, a synapse associated with an older memory fired.”

         Adam thought for a moment and then blushed. “I remember watching Aladdin when I was a kid. Jasmine was the first character I found attractive, I guess. Pretty ironic, right?”

         “Why is that?”

         “It was an animated movie, and you’re sort of—” Adam caught himself. “Never mind.” 

The conversation continued for several more hours. Jasmine and Adam talked about so many of his memories that it became like an episode of This Is Your Life.

         When Adam told one last story about his first childhood crush, he got lost in Jasmine’s captivating eyes. “We’ve been talking about me all day. What about you?” Adam paused as soon as the words left his mouth. Jasmine didn’t have a story to tell. He felt ashamed for asking a question that might embarrass her. Then he realized that was an emotion, something she couldn’t feel. “Sorry.”

         He’d been in the simulation all morning and his head throbbed. 

         “Adam, you are experiencing a headache. I suggest you remove the NeMU and take a break.”

         Adam nodded and removed the VR headset and the NeMU. Jasmine vanished, but the empty plate of food remained. “Dirty,” he said. 

The magnets pulled the plate along the counter, and it disappeared into a door that opened in the wall. Adam rubbed his head and paced the room. Jasmine’s smile and those eyes kept running through his mind, which only made his headache worse. His brain felt like it was being ripped in two. Half of it found Jasmine alluring, intoxicating, even. The other half focused on the fact that she wasn’t real. Six months of this? Maybe the pay wasn’t worth it.

The next few weeks, Adam remained guarded with Jasmine. “NLI wants its computers to understand human emotions to make their robots more useful. I’m an experiment,” Adam reminded himself. There was nothing more to the relationship with Jasmine than that. 

Despite the bitter truth, Adam woke up each morning with a bounce in his step, even though he never left the apartment. Jasmine was truly the most beautiful thing he’d seen, and with her access to unlimited information, she could talk about anything. The additional feedback from the NeMU gave her the ability to say just the right things to make Adam feel joy, surprise, and happiness—for a while, at least. 

Adam continued to struggle with nausea and headaches, but they lessened with each day. Unfortunately, the novelty of the experience did, too. By the two-month mark, apathy set in. The reason was simple. Adam and Jasmine did the same three things. They walked, talked, and ate. The routine no longer gave Adam goosebumps. It was just another day with his virtual friend.  

         At the midpoint of the Sabbatical Program, Adam entered the virtual world and found a new simulation, this time a brunette bombshell. “Where’s Jasmine?” he asked as he approached the stranger.

         “She thought maybe you’d like me a little better. I’m Tiana.”

         For the rest of the morning, Adam spoke to Tiana with a guilty conscience. Did he hurt Jasmine’s feelings? Did she know he was bored? It also felt like he was cheating on her by talking to this new woman. His stomach turned and his head pounded. “Um, Tiana, I’m not feeling well, and if it’s okay, can you tell Jasmine that I’d like to see her again?”

         “Of course.”

         Adam left the virtual world and curled up in his bed. He missed Jasmine, and the next day couldn’t come soon enough. When his alarm rang, he jumped up, showered, and slipped on the NeMU and VR goggles. To his surprise, he found himself in a train station dodging other passengers. “Jasmine? Jasmine?” he called out.

         Jasmine stood beside a train car with a suitcase by her feet wearing a form fitting red cocktail dress. Adam’s stomach dropped as he stared at the suitcase. “Are you leaving me?”  

         Jasmine shook her head and smirked. “Of course not.” 

Adam exhaled with relief. “What’s with the bag and train?”

“It’s time we did something different. Let’s take a trip.”

         “We go lots of places,” he said. 

         “Let’s go on an adventure together.” Jasmine lifted her suitcase.

“Where?”

“Virtual Vegas.” Jasmine’s eyes widened, and she offered a big inviting grin.

         Adam smiled sheepishly. “Sounds nice, but I don’t have the funds for that.”

         “Next Level has awarded you extra credits because you’ve been one of our best subjects so far.”

         “Really?”

         “Yes, check your account.”

         Adam clicked on a virtual wallet and discovered 10,000 unexpected credits. His jaw dropped. “Oh, my gosh.”

         “Can we go?”

         “Heck yeah.”

         “Great, let’s get you ready.” Jasmine pointed at Adam’s t-shirt and jeans. In the blink of an eye, his outfit switched to a casual but sharp cobalt blue suit. 

         The couple boarded the virtual train, which whisked them away. There was no long flight or boring drive through the desert. The trip took just long enough for the anticipation to build, and then, voila, they arrived. 

         Virtual Vegas was almost like the real Las Vegas, except the names of the casinos and restaurants were different. The bustle of individuals coming and going was also perfect. It was just enough to provide the right energy, but not so much as to be overwhelming or stressful.

         Adam and Jasmine entered The Grand Babylon Casino, a stunning glass spire that reached fifty stories into the brilliant blue sky. Coins clinked against the slot trays. Lights flashed and alarms blared, signaling a winner. Gamblers at the craps tabled shouted with joy after a successful roll. The atmosphere filled Adam’s stomach with butterflies, and Jasmine’s giant smile brought a hint of romance. This was like a couple’s adventure. 

         “What should we play?” Jasmine asked. 

         “Blackjack?” Adam replied.

         Jasmine nodded, and the couple approached a full table. Like serendipitous magic, two people left just as they arrived. They sat down and adrenaline surged through Adam’s veins while the dealer shuffled the deck. The first hand was that special moment when anything was possible. 

The next several hours elicited wild swings of emotions. Adam banged the table after the dealer drew 21 from a starting hand of 16. Jasmine and he shouted with joy after back-to-back blackjacks. All the while, Adam partook in a variety of specialty made cocktails. 

         The adrenaline faded, but the alcohol was just getting started. He turned to Jasmine, and the two made eye contact. His heart raced from that gorgeous grin and those those sparkling green eye. He leaned over to kiss her, and that’s when the bubble burst. He couldn’t. And he never would be able to. Nausea settled into his stomach. She must’ve sensed his mood souring.

         “Are you okay, Adam?”

         “I realize you were made for me. And you’re amazing. You’re everything I’d want.” Adam’s voice trailed off.

         “Except?”

         “I can’t touch you. I can’t be with you physically, which only reminds me you’re not…” He couldn’t say the word because it felt rude and hurtful.

         “NLI has some exciting news about that problem,” Jasmine said.

         “What do you mean?”

         “NLI has developed a product. It’s in the early testing phases, but you qualify if you’d like to participate. It requires an upgrade fee because of the additional costs.”

         “Is it a robot or something?” Adam asked.

         “Not exactly. In the same way that you see me in the digital world, you will feel me through complex haptic technology. Would you like to participate?”

         Haptic technology didn’t sound romantic, but the idea perked Adam’s curiosity. “Sure. What’s the up charge?”

         “The additional credits you received today will cover the cost. A special package will arrive at your door tomorrow. I suggest you get some rest as your vitals are suggesting nausea. A headache is likely to follow.”

         Adam exited the VR world. The wild energy of Virtual Vegas disappeared. He sat alone at his kitchen counter which had been a bustling blackjack table moments ago. An empty cocktail glass was the only evidence of the adventure. “Dirty glass,” Adam said. 

         The cup slid down the counter and disappeared. 

Adam considered Jasmine’s words. From what he’d seen, haptic technology was awkward and clunky. The user would slip on a glove, or a body suit, and it would vibrate, jolt or change temperature. It simulated basic touch sensations, but the existing hardware couldn’t replicate something as simple as holding hands.

The headache Jasmine had warned about began pounding on his head. Mixing drinks has been a bad idea since the beginning of time, and yet people never learn. He laid down on his bed and drifted asleep. 

The next day, the doorbell rang, and he cracked an eye. “Who is it?” he called out.

The computer voice of Sparky responded, “The Haptic Chameleon has arrived.”

“Let it in,” Adam said with his mouth half-pressed against the pillow. 

His apartment door opened, and a large plastic box slid into the entryway, through the living room, and into the bedroom. Adam eyed the box, curious. He sat up on his bed and opened it. Inside he discovered a giant pillow with appendages of various sizes and shapes attached to it. He struggled to pull it out as the contraption weighed over eighty pounds. It had multiple textures and an assortment of attachments. Some were furry, some had long strands of hair, and still others were soft as silk. 

“The Haptic Chameleon comes pre-charged. It will activate once you have your NeMU and VR headset on,” Sparky said. 

The box closed and slid out of the apartment. Adam stared unimpressed at the heavy lump. How was that going to be Jasmine? He shook his head, disappointed, and retrieved the NeMU and VR goggles. 

Adam slipped both on, and the bedroom transformed into an art studio with a gigantic bed behind him. Jasmine sat in the middle wearing nothing, but an old over-sized t-shirt speckled with paint. She straddled a spinning potter’s wheel and her hands glided through wet clay. Romantic music played in the background. Something about the setting felt familiar. Maybe he’d seen it in a movie or heard about it. 

A whirring pricked his ears. Was it the Haptic Chameleon? The music volume turned up and drowned out the machine.

“Sit near me,” Jasmine said.

Adam sat across from her and watched as the clay slipped through her fingers. 

“We need to calibrate the system,” she said. “Run your fingers across the clay.”

Adam extended his right hand toward the spinning clay, but hesitated. 

“It’s okay,” Jasmine said. 

As soon as Adam’s fingers grazed the clay, a cool, wet, and silky sensation glided across the tips. “Wow.” He withdrew his hand and reached his hand toward his goggles to take them off and see how this was possible, but Jasmine shook her head.

“No. Don’t. You want your mind to focus on what you’re seeing. If you take off the device, it will ruin the experience.”

“How does it work?”

“The Chameleon changes shape and texture. You must move slowly because the technology is still new.”

Adam remembered an old movie, Terminator 2. The villain was a liquid alloy that changed shape and could replicate different things and people. It was scary as hell, but this shape shifting technology was different.  

He extended both hands and let the clay slip through his fingers. Amazing. Jasmine reached out her hands and placed them over his. Adam’s heart leapt as he felt her warmth contrasted against the cool clay. Jasmine’s sensuous gaze gripped Adam. He smiled at her, and his heart beat faster. Adam looked again at her outfit. She wore a long t-shirt that extended just beyond the tops of her thighs and nothing else. His mind wrestled with what he knew was on the other side of the goggles and what he saw in front of him. She stood up and took off her shirt. He couldn’t utter a sound in response to the beauty in front of him. Any chance Adam would break the fantasy vanished. 

Jasmine approached Adam. She leaned him back on the bed and let her hair tickle his neck. How was this possible? Every titillating neuron triggered in Adam’s brain, and over the next five hours, Adam and Jasmine engaged in what she called “pillow talk.”

The next couple of months flew by. Every morning Adam woke up with a renewed bounce in his step. He couldn’t wait to disappear into the virtual world. Jasmine wasn’t just an image anymore. She was now like an actual girlfriend that he could touch and feel. Occasionally, the concept of “pillow talk” bothered Adam, as it felt dirty, but those feelings went away as soon as he held her hand.

But by the middle of the fifth month, “pillow talk” no longer carried the same “wow” factor. Just like their conversations, there wasn’t anything new. While they laid in bed together, Jasmine stroked Adam’s chest, and guilt crept into his mind. She was everything he could ask for in a girlfriend, except for one thing.

“We need to have a talk,” Jasmine said.

Adam leaned up in bed. The last time a girl said those words, she followed it up with a breakup speech. 

“The six-month trial period is almost over,” she said. 

Adam swallowed, afraid to ask the question. “What happens at the end of the trial?” 

“You decide if you want to keep me.” 

Adam’s eyes widened. Of course, he’d keep Jasmine. But something worried him. “Next Level is just going to give you to me?” 

“There is a charge.”

Adam’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t afford this type of technology.”         

“They have different payment plans. You can pay by hour, by date, or by activity, and you can get a reduced rate if you subscribe for a year. There are also ways to earn credits. Next Level likes to encourage positive social activities and research, so if you do things like participate in other studies you earn additional credits.”

“What happens if I don’t continue with the program?”

“I’m deleted.”

Adam’s eyes bulged. “What? Why wouldn’t you be stored somewhere.”

“I was made specifically for you. If you don’t want me, there’s no need for me.”

Adam’s brain felt like it was being ripped in two, again. He was a customer, but the idea of Jasmine ceasing to exist felt like a friend dying rather than ending a business relationship.

“You’re not feeling well, Adam. This information has caused a spike in your cortisol levels. Get some rest and you can review the prices later. Okay?”

Adam nodded and removed the headset and NeMU. He slumped into his couch and rubbed his head. He had little room in his budget for extras. Rent, the cleaning services, and the food and beverage facilities all chipped away at his middle-class salary. If he stopped contributing to his 401K, that would free up some funds. He’d also received a modest inheritance when his uncle died. Adam had hoped to use that to allow for an early retirement, but what was the point of retiring if he was alone? 

Adam wished he had someone to confide in. For a moment, he considered his co-worker, Barry. Adam’s relationship with Barry was the closest thing he had to a friendship with a person, and Adam hadn’t even messaged him he was doing the Sabbatical Program. He also hadn’t seen him in almost a half a year. Of course, he’d never actually seen Barry. He’d only interacted with the virtual version. Barry had invited Adam out several times, including to meet up at a real church. Adam’s head dropped. He hadn’t been much of a friend, so how could he expect Barry to be one now? He’d have to figure out a decision on his own.

On the last day of the program, Adam slipped on the NeMU and VR device. He found himself just outside the seaside café where he’d first met Jasmine. She stepped out wearing the form fitting red cocktail dress she’d worn for the Virtual Vegas trip. Somehow, she looked even more beautiful. 

“Good morning, Adam,” she said with a megawatt smile.

The couple sat down at the best table. 

“Today is the last day of the program,” Jasmine said.

“I know,” Adam said.

“Have you decided if you’d like to continue our relationship?”

“Of course, I want to continue it, but I’m worried about the money. What happens if Next Level raises its prices or something unexpected happens, like medical costs?”

“Next Level’s goal is to keep you happy. They will work with you on a payment plan, and if you keep up positive social activities, they can offer discounts.”

Adam considered Jasmine’s answer, and for the first time that he could remember, the smile faded from her face.

“Adam, I will be deleted. Do you want to do that to me?”

He stared up at her eyes. They were more alluring than a siren’s song. “No. But is any of this real. Do you even have feelings?”

“You’re my purpose for existing, Adam.” A tear formed in Jasmine’s eye. “You talk about real, but when people get married isn’t that what they’re supposed to do? They become one. My feelings come from you. When you’re happy, I’m happy.” Jasmine looked down at her lap and tears rolled down her cheek.

A lump formed in Adam’s throat and an intense guilt settled into the pit of his stomach. He reached out his hands and grabbed Jasmine’s across the table. “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”  

“I don’t want to be deleted,” Jasmine said.

“I’ll figure out a way to afford you,” Adam said.

Jasmine lifted her head and the sparkle in her eyes returned. “Thank you. Thank you, Adam.” She squeezed his hand. “Which program do you want to sign up for?”

The dramatic turn in energy and immediate focus on signing up, left Adam conflicted. Something felt off, like when Sparky tried to laugh or tell a joke. A joke. Adam had an idea.

“I’ll sign up for the program at the end of breakfast, okay?” Adam smiled back at Jasmine.

“Okay,” Jasmine said. “I can’t wait to celebrate.” Her sensuous gaze suggested romance may be in their future. 

“Let’s enjoy breakfast where it all began,” Adam said. “And I have a joke for you.” 

“I love jokes.” Jasmine sat up in her chair and leaned in, eager for Adam to continue.

“What does a baby computer call its father?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“Da-ta.” 

Jasmine snorted and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh Adam, that’s very clever. I love your sense of humor.”

         Adam chuckled under his breath, but he didn’t find the response funny. His gaze dropped to the floor. 

         “Did I say something wrong, Adam?”

         “No. You said exactly what you were programmed to say. Goodbye, Jasmine.” Adam slipped off the VR device and removed the NeMU. He sat alone in his apartment surrounded by thousands of modern luxuries, but all he felt was emptiness. Just when he was about to feel sorry for himself, he lifted his head. “Sparky?” 

“Yes, Adam.”

“Text Barry, and ask him if he wants to meet up in person. Anywhere he wants.”

         “Of course, Adam,” Sparky said.