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SUMMARY: To celebrate the 1000th hit on my website www.williamhrdina.com, here's a nice big chunk of my novel about cyber-life after death.

Chapter 8

"What is it like being here?" Ben asked, searching his wife's eyes.
"Well, to be honest, it's not at all what I was expecting. I mean, I knew that we'd only be able to afford this single room but somehow the fact I cannot open the door and take a walk in the park- it just serves as a constant reminder that my flesh is rotting somewhere. But then I see you, even with your virtual body that your head doesn't really look right on- and the fact I can't leave this room doesn't matter at all."
"What's it like for you to sit there? Does it feel normal? For instance, I am aware of the fact that I'm using my finger on a joystick to make myself walk forward and I have to lean forward to sit down. I'm conscious of the fat that I'm interacting with a computer. Is it like that for you?"
"No. I feel completely normal- as if we were on vacation somewhere, hanging out in a hotel."
"So when you run your fingers through your hair, it feels the way you remember it?"
"Everything feels the way I remember it. But at the same time there is a nagging in the back of my mind. I know I'm dead. I know I'm not sitting here in any physical way. But I feel physical to myself. My body feels the way it did when I was alive. My hair feels the same way it always did. Even the little stuff, like the weird itches and stuff, it's all still there."
"What about the time I'm not here. You said it was difficult to deal with. What did you mean by that?"
"It's really hard for me to get a handle on this experience for myself. Right after you left I felt really drowsy. Thirty seconds later I was asleep. Then I woke up and you were back. I know you spent two days out in the world, and I feel like I just took a five minute nap. I haven't had any time to think about my situation."
Then what happens? Do you dream?"
"No. Like I said, the sleep seems to exist outside of time. I'm not awake long enough to get tired- I suppose it's like having narcolepsy or multiple personalities. It's lost time. One minute you're walking out the door and the next thing I know you're coming back."
"I'm trying to get a raise. Lord knows I'm due."
"Look Ben. It's OK. I'll be just fine. I mean every time I get in these funks I just need to remind myself how lucky I am to be experiencing consciousness in any form. I'm dead. I got cancer and I died." Molly kept repeating this to herself because it was so easy to forget in spite of the blaring evidence all around her.
"I know you died sweetheart. And I'm glad I can come to visit you and talk to you even under such a difficult situation. But if you find that you cannot handle it. If you'd rather..." Ben cut off. His real and virtual eyes filled with tears. "If you'd rather go on." He choked out, unable to say any more.
Molly's eyes widened. She knew what he was getting at, and if she didn't know him so well she might've thought he wanted to be rid of her. But even his virtual face made it clear. He didn't want to get rid of her. He couldn't stand the prospect of her living in unhappiness simply to please him.
"Maybe someday we'll come to that point.