"But why?" Phil asked, eyes wide with shock. After an hour of beating around the virtual bush the discussion was finally taking shape and his realization of its point left him at a loss.

Stifling amusement at her husband’s pleading tone Jane Markus cast him a sideways glance. Seeking direct eye contact she found him, face contorted in the kind of confusion that comes from a fear of the other; “xenophobia” or so a doctor had called it in the olden days. To her ears his voice was like a piano in need of tuning or, more accurately, a synthesizer in need of reprogramming. Squinting she could almost see through the glamer of a world made false in it’s representation of the true.

Shooting him a tiny smile she thought of his loyalty. For a decade they’d shared a life full of places and events that no other living being would ever experience. Personal, special and intimate moments far away from prying eyes. Before him, her Philip, there had been no other or at least none that mattered. Each suitor had presented himself with skill, with panache, showing their best side and proving that they had been made just for her.

But Philip was different. He wasn’t made for her but he made every moment special. Now he stood there, struggling against his every instinct to make his face lax and placid. This moment was, as the others that came before, for her. Warmly shining the light of the sun washed over them and the salty breeze sang true of the Atlantic as gulls cried shrilly in the distance.

At that moment they truly were at their beach, the beach where he proposed to her after a courtship that lasted only two years; a far shorter period than she’d been told to expect by friends who’d lived through it. Every grain of sand, ray of sunshine and drop of sea spray was theirs because this was the perfect beach he had made just for her.

There was a pregnant pause as the true-to-life, flawless representation of a human face pleaded with her through the interface that had been her life until today. Seeing his pained expression and earnest emotion drove any thoughts of mirth from her mind and made her heart sink. "Because I have to," she said, finally, then more firmly; “I’ve made a commitment.”.

“No. No, you committed to me, here, in our home. Jane. Think about this.” he said, finally coming out of his shell and giving her something to work with. “Assuredly there’s some sort of … opt-out clause or something. You’ve never left the city let alone Earth and, I mean, your rig! It’s not as if you can take it with you!”

“That’s true. You’re telling the truth and you’re right. But, think about it, Phil; how many of us now have a chance to do something real? How many people can actually make a difference?” She was building steam in an argument with a reasonable man. This conversation wasn’t a new one but this was the first time it seemed real. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him he had to understand why she was going and that there was no changing her mind regardless of the consequences.

“So what are you saying? It won’t get done unless you’re the one doing it? Jane … that can’t possibly be true. There have to be other people just as capable. There are over twenty billion people on Earth alone and, last I checked, another five already off-world.”

“Twenty billion drones, Phil! Zombies!” her eyes bored into his, pleading for understanding but her gaze was rapidly turning into a burning glare. “Have you ever met anyone who is capable? From what I’ve seen there’s a few individuals per billion and they’re all too busy being rich assholes to try and actually work for the greater good. Think of what you’re asking of me.”

He frowned, his brow creasing as his piercing blue eyes sought her out, searching for something to hope for but she was seeing something more; something new. He was in pain. Breaking eye contact she turned away, a floating sensation making her dizzy as she fell increasingly out of sync. Eyes welling up she fell silent for a moment, searching for anything she could do or say to make him understand; to make it okay.

As if reading her mind “I am so sorry. Jane, I want to understand, I do, this isn’t--I’m not just being bull-headed. I’m not. Just--look at me.”

Face twisting up she forced herself to move as things began to warp around her; the sensation of separation becoming stronger. “I’m … I’m looking.”

“You’re still young. Still pretty.” he said, using the kind of flattery that always cooled her temper. She glared at him knowingly as he continued. “But that’s not why I’m arguing against joining the Confederation. I don’t want to lose you--”

“You won’t! Phil, please--”

“Let me finish, Jane. Please.” and he brushed a thumb through the tracks of her tears without effect. “I’m arguing against it because nobody else will. No family member, no friend no body other than myself. When you’re making a life-altering decision like this, to enter a realm that so few people occupy or have even explored you need someone to present the counter-point. Otherwise it’s not an informed decision. Do you understand?”

“You knew though. It’s been two years since I decided--”

“I know but … I never thought you’d go through with it. Aren’t you scared?”

His question was sobering; she had worked so hard to prepare for her deployment that she hadn’t had the time for fear. Jane looked to her husband, then all around herself and raised her hands to her sides before letting them fall with an unnatural slowness. Her reply to his mis-aimed question was indirect. “I… Can’t do this. Anymore. Just…” she was speaking haltingly, the words themselves seeming alien and distant; difficult to bring to the forefront of her mind. “I want a real life. Real. Not here. Not on Earth. I want to matter. I want to be productive. That makes sense, right?” She felt her certitude fading as she spoke, those alien words being robbed of any remaining meaning as she uttered them.

He began frowning deeper, worried at her tone. "You matter to me.”

“You care about me, that’s different.”

“No, I love you. Care is what a nanny says and it’s because they program her to. And what do you mean productive? What does that even mean?" He was serious but the question was still upsetting to hear.

“Productive! I want to produce.”

“Produce what?”

“Anything! I want to ... map the stars, d-discover a planet that will support human life so that we don’t all have to live all stacked on top of ourselves here. Anything.”

This argument had been long postponed and Philip was slowly realizing that, for good or ill, it was finishing today. “You … you could be an author. You could be an artist. Jane, think about it, you could be a mother. Against all odds we found each other in this world and we have a rare chance to make it really work and live the dream.”

Fixing a dead-eyed stare on her loving husband and the reason for her life these past 10 years Jane said flatly, without emotion, that “All I do, all any of us do now, Phil …is consume.”

It hit him like an H-Bomb and he almost lost sync. Fluttering for a moment he stood in silence as Jane watched his eyes carefully. No reaction was betrayed or, for all she knew, present behind those eyes.

“Phil? Are you still with me?”

“I’m with you.” he said flatly, his lips not even moving.

“I … I have to go. I have to do something, to find some meaning in this life. To do that I have to leave here; leave Earth. Do you understand that ... I have to leave ... you … behind..."

Staring, tears streaming, Phil had fallen fully still. Seemingly detached her husband, friend and protector gave no indication of what he was thinking. This was not their first conversation on this, she thought, but it was their last and he finally knew that. Without another word he flickered and vanished leaving her on the beach alone. She remembered vividly when he first presented it to her as a birthday gift the day she turned 17. This was how she would always remember it; an expression of love given to her on the same day as the ring she tearfully accepted as they promised to share her life with one another. Now tears flowed for another reason as she fell out of sync.

As all went black Jane reached up behind her head in one of the gestures she had always been told not to use. Feeling returning to her physical form she fumbled through the flowing mass of hair she knew she had until she felt the bump that wasn’t there. Touching it she waited, counting to three and returned to her senses. Her grip growing stronger she slowly pulled at an object hidden there in her locks. She pulled with all her might and, finally, her stomach lurched.

All over a shocking numbness struck Jane and she gasped, pulling away the synaptic interface of her rig. In actuality it wasn’t her body feeling it but rather what the rig had fooled her brain into thinking was her body. Tactile sensations faded to memory as her skin became aware that she was not, in fact, on a beach or laying out in the sun. Tugging away the memory cloth bodysuit that aided in the illusion that was her life she found that her skin was paler than she remembered. She looked at it, oddly, as if it were a stranger. Placing both hands underneath the harness for her rigs sensory helmet she pushed slowly for fear of the shock so common when someone returns to the physical world; a slow transition was definitely best.

As the auto-adjusting screens of her helmet detected that her eyes were absent they went dark and the lights in her room flickered to life. Her drab 3 meter by 4 meter apartment, standard issue for Terran residents, sat spartan and clean just as she remembered it.

Clearing her throat she was suddenly aware that she wasn’t fully disconnected. Reaching under her nose she pulled out the olfactory connection as well as the fine tubes that entered her mouth to simulate taste. The rest of the “Plug Suit”, the only clothes she and most other humans now living ever wore was removed along with more invasive plumbing attachments to feed the user, dispose of waste and whatever else was needed to sustain life. The helmet she racked and only then did she step onto the cold, smooth cement floor.

She smiled slightly through the tears that she now realized had been very real upon her face. Cold. She hadn’t felt it in some time and it was real. Looking around she found that her room was barren except for a bed standing folded in the corner, the closet door and the massive Virtual Reality Rig that occupied most of the room. Looking at the bed, folded as it was, Jane chuckled in wonderment. The room had never been large enough to unfold the bed; not so long as the rig was there. The three times her husband had been here in person they had taken the mattress and laid it into her rig so they could enjoy one another in person. The tears started to flow again as her smile slipped. “Philip…”

Moving on to the task at hand she took the single step needed to reach her closet. Looking inside, there were exactly 10 sets of clothing there; 5 more adult-sized memory cloth suits for life in the rig and the five crisp new naval uniforms given her recently by the Confederation. She pondered these uniforms and how different they were from what she had worn previously. These were clothes meant to be seen and noticed whereas the rig suits were always to be hidden away.

Thinking back to historical documents of life before the world filled up and people left it for a virtual one Jane thought of how people, men and women, it was said women in particular, wore different clothes every day in a variety of styles. Now, despite having enough resources available to get all the varieties and styles they would ever want virtually no human owned clothing. She had worn a simple green bodysuit to interview for the navy and they had given her the 5 uniforms when she was accepted.

Touching the thick smooth fabric of the uniform Jane forced a smile and activated the personal assistant for her apartment. On request it displayed an instructional video of how to wear her uniform and she began the process of dressing. She made sure not to wear the bars or the beret as those were only unlocked to her after her last day of training. It took her several minutes to get the unfamiliar clothing properly adjusted and her expression fell blank at her assistant corrected her; showing her a self-portrait and illustrating, point by point, where she had erred.

When properly dressed she was finally able to see the full affect of her uniform. No longer did she look like just some rig-occupant lacking identity. She was a Con-Fed Cadet soon to be a Naval officer. Somewhere among the stars already flew the Starship to which she would be assigned and, on that ship, she would go to real places and perform real acts. Unlike her neighbors she would have worth. Unlike the rest of Earth’s population she would be productive. What she was going to do would be for the betterment of everyone.

Finally ready to leave Jane Markus walked toward the door of her apartment. Looking back wistfully she realized she had no keepsakes. All her memories and cherished possessions were just virtual goods stored on her assistant; the portable aspect of her Rig, with no physical counterpart. On the floor nearby the single bag for her possessions had been packed and there was nothing else in her apartment or even on Earth left for her to do. Walking backwards she shook her head slowly; sad to leave in spite of herself.

Sliding closed Jane waited for the merest moment to ponder her past before turning on her heel to leave. Nearly colliding with a man in the hallway she found herself grasped by the shoulders and drawn near.

She started with fear but offered no resistance. "I don’t understand you," he said, staring through her with piercing blue eyes as she looked up to him. She was relieved to find that it was Philip dressed in the same generic green bodysuit she’d worn herself every day before today. “Maybe I’m just not …capable of understanding but I still love you and if this is what you need then I need to support you."

“I … you mean?” she stammered, trying to process his presence and his words.

“I mean that I’m sorry. You were mine and mine alone for so long, a real girl, even though we still used the Rig to connect most of the time. I didn’t want to share. That was wrong.”

“But … Phil you … you’re here. I thought you’d disconnected. I thought you hated me and disconnected and--” he touched his right index finger to her lips and shushed her.

“No, Jane, I … I fell out of sync. My rig flagged my vitals when my heart rate raised and I couldn’t get back on. When I realized I wasn’t going to be able to reconnect I rushed over here as quickly as I could but--”

“And what’s that smell? Something … bad.”

Eyes widening Philip, Jane’s perfect, sterile virtual husband now in the flesh puckered up his face clownishly as he was forced to confess “Maybe I pulled out a little too quickly? I, uh, kind of … regurgitated my stomach contents.”

“You threw up?”

“Yes. I threw up.”

Laughing uproariously Jane threw herself into his arms. This was real. Every glorious and sometimes gross detail was what was really happening. Walking down the hallway to the lift that would transport her to the bullet train at ground level that she would ride to the orbital elevator which would carry her up to the shipyard high above the Earth Jane enjoyed the very real company of the man she married when they were teenagers. They discussed their promises of forever and what they might do when she returned from space having done something very productively as an officer in the Galactic Confederation.

Finally, as they waited in the long line for the elevator that would take her up from the surface of the only planet she had ever called home Jane turned to Philip. “Maybe you could join me?” she asked, fluttering her lashes at him. He’d be two years behind her but if he was willing it could happen.

This spiked Phil’s heart rate worse than their argument. His eyes bulged from their sockets and he breathed heavily at the idea then, slowly, thinking, he looked up at the night sky. Gray clouds reflected the light of the city and Luna, Earth’s first moon, was the only heavenly body he could see. Thinking of it’s relative closeness finally he was able to reply.

“Maybe I could, Jane. Maybe I could…”