Solipsis: Escape from the Comatorium Read Free Page A

those neurons
instead of their own brains, the result is indistinguishable to them.
He just feels happy. Even in humans a flip of a switch can make them
feel ecstatic or suicidal, there's no such thing as authentic
emotion, they're all just one's and zero's.”
    “ Come
home,” Gwen pleads. “Let's spend one full day together,
just the two of us, a bottle...a couple of bottles of wine.”
    “ I
can't waste any time,” Nellie replies, “I'm this god damn
close.”
    “ It
seemed so easy in all those movies,” Gwen says quietly, “just
jam a metal thing in your head and hit download.”
    “ You
can't download the mind, it's not software, it's not even hardware,
it's the current state of the electrical impulses of the hardware of
the brain.”
    “ Relax,
okay. Come home, you'll do better with some rest.”
    “ Can't.”
    “ If
this doesn't work, you'll have wasted the end of your life on this,
instead of spending it with me.”
    “ This
isn't a waste,” Nellie focuses back on her work, paying no
attention to Gwen.

6
    Gwen pushes through a
near-violent crowd protesting outside a hospital. Their mantra is
“don't play God, let her die!” Reporters follow in her
wake. Tacky cardboard signs dot the crowd with messages written in
ballpoint pen, such as “Theres No Escapeing God's Jugdement.”
A crazed old woman grabs Gwen's arm and yanks her violently, shouting
“You can't escape Hell!” The furious shout sprays Gwen's
face with spit. Gwen tears away and runs for the door.
    Gwen bursts through swinging
doors into an OR. Surgeons prepare their instruments while scientists
prepare electronics. Nellie lays on the inclined operating table. Her
bald head is covered in lines of marker. She's gaunt, on the verge of
death. Gwen hugs Nellie like this is the last time she'll see her.
    “ It's
gonna be okay,” Peter pops his head up from behind the table,
holding a syringe. “Can we give them some privacy.” The
room clears out. Peter lingers at the door. Gwen holds Nellie and
sobs. Nellie sheds no tears.
    “ Why
are you so calm about this?” Gwen asks.
    “ Because
I'm gonna make it,” Nellie says.
    Peter watches from the edge of
the room, sees that Gwen can't handle this. He comes over, putting a
comforting hand on Gwen's shoulder. “We need to get started.”
    “ Already?”
Gwen asks. Peter nods.
    “ If
I don't make it,” Nellie begins to say. Gwen interrupts,
hugging her hard, pressing their cheeks together. “If I don't
make it, don't mourn for me, I'm happy with the life I lived.”

    Gwen sits alone in the waiting
room. A pile of faded magazines splayed out on the coffee table
offers no distraction. An old flat-screen TV tuned to the local news
grabs her attention as they start covering Nellie's operation. The
weak signal is jumpy and pixelated. An aerial view shows the crowd of
protestors. Then they cut to an interview Nellie did with the
national network. Nellie sits across from Tim Rodriguez, the favorite
newscaster of middle-aged women everywhere.
    “ Some,
well, many have expressed their concerns with this procedure,”
Tim says, leading into his point by being as non-confrontational as
possible. His interviews are notoriously more like therapy sessions
than Q&A. “Are you sure this is something worth doing?”
    “ Of
course it is,” Nellie responds. Gwen had been at this
interview, nervously sitting just off the stage, but she hadn't seen
the final product. Now she sees Nellie's brave face as she answers,
“It's progress. If this works, we'll be able to save millions
of lives; it's a cure for almost every disease there is. This might
be the greatest advancement in the history of medicine.”
    “ But
at what cost? There might be something to be said about letting
people die with dignity, wouldn't you agree?”
    “ Certainly,
I don't think we should waste away for years, suffering and watching
our loved ones burdened by our existence. I think people deserve the
right to end their own lives, but