Tuesday, August 2. 2005Keb Jones
I waited for a response. Howell began to thrash more violently; between gasps for breath, he started to moan. Suddenly, he stopped moving completely. He stiffened, straightening out like a plank so that only his shoulders touched the chair. I reached past him and began typing.
Night_Watcher[5:27]: Where are you? Aren't you going to do anything? Again I waited. Finally, the reply. Brain_Stem[5:31]: I'm a doctor. I'll take care of this. It may take some time, though. If you feel uncomfortable watching your roommate, you may want to leave. He'll be fine soon. This was the last straw. I stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I barely tasted my scrambled eggs and blueberry yogurt. Not that there was much to taste--food at the dorm's cafeteria is hardly five-star fare. By the time I had finished my breakfast, I had made a decision. Howell had to go. The detective looked at me over the top of his clasped hands. "Yes, we know about your friend, Howell. He's been causing some ripples in the online communities, making ridiculous claims about the ability to create alternate realities." "You mean virtual reality?" "No, he's not talking about a simulated environment. He's talking about environments that eventually become so real that you can't tell which is real and which isn't. He's claiming that he and his friends will soon be able to tailor-make an environment to a user's specifications, and that it will be so real that the user will never have to return to normal life. They're claiming that this alternate life will become real life for those who are willing to pay for it."
"So, why do you know about this? Well, I really don't care why you know about it. I just want to know, is it a crime? Can I get him out of my dorm room, and into someplace where he can be treated, or whatever he needs?" "Your friend Howell . . ." "He's not my friend, OK? He's my roommate, that's all. I didn't even choose to live with him." "Very well. Your roommate is quite a revolutionary. He's encouraging people to think about joining him and his friends so that they can create a world that is . . ." He made the little quote signs in the air with his fingers. ". . . free from government oppression. We like to keep an eye on those who espouse such ideas. Especially those who espouse them as openly as your friend does." I opened my mouth to protest, but decided it wasn't worth it. "Well, can you get him out of my apartment? I don't want to deal with him any more." "We are the federal police not a babysitting service. We will keep a close eye on your friend, but if you want him out of your dorm room, you'll have to talk to the dorm manager. " I walked out of his office, fuming. Dorm management had sent me to talk to him. They said that Howell might be committing a very serious offense. What was going on? Trackbacks
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