Fiction: Rest In Virtual

A philosophical short story about death and mind uploads

I’m currently visiting Canada for (Canadian) Thanksgiving. One of the great benefits of being Canadian living in the US is that I get two Thanksgivings a year.

Since I have a small backlog of fiction I want to eventually share here, I’m planning on sending out a fiction story whenever I’m on vacation.

This story was previously published in BCubed Press’s Alternative Deathiness anthology. The version I’m publishing here has a couple of small edits and I’ve added an afterword.

As always, please hit the ❤️ “Like” button below if you enjoyed this post, it helps others find this article.

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Rest In Virtual

The whir of the surgical drill changed pitch as it entered my skull. At least, that’s what I assumed was happening. With the anesthetic and surgical drape over my face, the sound was all I had to go on. The only other sensation was my aching back on the rigid table. Still, I had a good idea of what must be happening thanks to my obsessive research on the procedure. First, the drill made 128 pin sized holes across my skull. The medical team injected Nanosurgeons, some spreading out across my cerebral cortex while others went deeper, getting equal coverage across my brainstem.

It creeped me the hell out.

Still, it was my only option if I wanted to continue to see my grandchildren, even if it would only be when they logged into Virtu. Besides, soon it wouldn’t matter that this body had holes in its head. One way or the other, its time was just about over.

The whirring stopped. There was some unintelligible chatter amongst the medical staff. I’m not sure how much time went by before I finally heard the voice of Dr. Niller. “Nanos are in place. Mr. Garcia, with your consent, we’ll take the scan.”

I tried to speak, but coughed instead. My forehead pressed up painfully against the restraints as I convulsed. The coughing became violent, and I worried I wouldn’t be able to stop. Great. With my luck, I’m going to end up dying on this table, literally seconds away from upload, because the medical staff was politely asking my permission to do their damn job.

Finally, mercifully, the coughing abated. “Do it,” I managed to croak out.

“Once the scan is complete, you’ll find yourself in Virtu. Some disorientation is normal.” Dr. Niller gave some order to the medical staff that I couldn’t make out.

A cacophony of sensations. Ringing, flashing. A sweet taste and a foul smell. My muscles twitched and convulsed.

Then it stopped. I found myself still on the surgical table.

“Scan complete, data uploaded,” a voice said.

“Great job everyone,” I heard Dr. Niller say.

My heart pounded. This wasn’t right. I shouldn’t still be here.

“Hello? What’s happening?” My voice sounded weak, but the room fell silent. They must have heard me.

I heard movement and whispered voices, and the darkness of the surgical drape disappeared, replaced by bright lights. I squinted, managing to make out two dark figures in surgical gowns. Dr. Niller was one of them.

“What’s going on?” I managed to ask.

“Well,” Dr. Niller said, “it looks like your body survived the scan. That’s a first.” Her tone was light, but I could see the confusion on her face. She turned to the nurse beside her. “Get him cleaned up and back to his room.”

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The nurse wouldn’t answer my questions about what had happened. Obviously something went wrong. My next conscious experience after the scan was supposed to be in Virtu. The electromagnetic wave from the simultaneous scanning of all of the nanosurgeons should have immediately destabilized my neural activity, causing immediate loss of consciousness. Without signals from the brainstem, the heart stops, and bodydeath occurs shortly after.

That was the hardest bit for prospective patients to get over—is the scan really saving me, or is it killing me? The debates over this had certainly livened up the retirement home. Suddenly those pedantic philosophical arguments from back in college were relevant. Ultimately, I had obviously agreed with the “mind upload” folks. But maybe that was just desperation. It’s hard to maintain intellectual objectivity when living another month hinges on a particular philosophical position.

I groaned inwardly when the nurse dropped me off at my room. I didn’t love staying in a hospital room, filled with beeping machines, flickering lights, and the sound of medical staff hurrying one way or the other in the hallway. It evoked memories of my painful cancer treatments, and of Lorraine slowly fading away. She died much too early, before scanning became an option. Her consciousness was lost, gone to oblivion.

Luckily it wasn’t long before Dr. Niller came by.

She had gone over the data from the surgery. Apparently my brain had a unique reaction to the scan. Perhaps because of my history of seizures, my brain was used to booting itself back up after rapid uncontrolled activity. Or maybe the surgeries to remove the brain tumors had changed the wiring in my brain just enough to allow it to recover from the total shock of the scan.

Regardless of why, I was the first person to have his consciousness not just uploaded, but copied.

“So what do we do now?” I asked Dr. Niller.

“Well, we do have your scan now. One option is that we don’t do anything. You’ll live on in Virtu just as planned, it’s just that your bodydeath will be a little later.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So, option one is to just leave me to die? Not sure that’s the kind of medical opinion I want.”

She didn’t hesitate. “The other option is for us to scan again.”

“I guess it would be easier this time since I already have the holes in my head,” I said. Dr. Niller didn’t respond. You would think she would at least pretend I was amusing.

I took a moment and closed my eyes. Of course, this would be the only other option for getting me out of this stupid body. I felt so tired. I had gone through so much to prepare myself mentally for the first scan. I just wanted this to be over and done with. The pain and weakness of this old body, worrying any moment could be my last.

“How do you know we won’t just run into the same problem?” I asked.

“Honestly, we don’t. But if your goal is to make sure we copy your last conscious neural activity, we could equip the nanosurgeons with anesthetic that they’ll release directly into the brain at the exact same time as the scan. You should lose consciousness the same moment as the scan.”

“Doesn’t that go against the Hippocratic oath or something? You’re talking about euthanizing me.”

Dr. Niller gave a shrug. “Frankly, that was always part of the process. Now we’re just doing it on purpose instead of as a side-effect. As for Hippocrates, I don’t think he had any deep insights on the ethics of dealing with mind uploads.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but didn’t know what to say. After a moment, Dr. Niller stood up to leave.

“Give it some thought. We have an open slot tomorrow morning for another scan, if you want.”

---

The nurses brought me lunch. Chicken soup. I ate, my useless hands shaking and spilling just as much of the soup as I managed to get in my mouth. Every swallow was agony.

As I ate, I mulled things over, but there wasn’t too much to think about. I was in the same position as before, with the same choice: get scanned and have my body die at the same instant, or don’t get scanned and have my body die naturally—and my consciousness with it.

The choice seemed pretty clear to me. I pulled up the vid screen and called my son.

“Hi Corey,” I said as soon as he appeared.

His mouth hung open when he saw me, and he frowned. “Hi dad. I thought you were scanned this morning?”

“I was. Something went weird with it though so they’re going to do it again tomorrow morning. Hopefully they won’t mess it up this time.”

Corey looked a bit pale. He kept shifting his gaze offscreen. “Why do you need another scan?”

I frowned. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m still here dying in my body. I just wanted to let you know the scan file will be getting to you a bit later than expected.”

Corey shifted back and forth in his seat. “Actually, they already sent me a scan file. It must upload automatically.”

That explained why Corey was acting so strangely. “Oh. Well, just ignore that one then. Better yet, delete it, don’t want you getting confused and running the wrong one.”

Corey suddenly couldn’t meet my eyes. Something was up. “Well, can’t we just keep this scan? I mean, you’re already uploaded, you just get some bonus embodied life time.”

I scowled. “That other scan isn’t me.”

“But it would have been—if you died during surgery.”

“I’m here. Some nanobots crawled into my head and took a picture, that didn’t change my health situation. Why are you being so difficult? I’m a dying man, Corey.”

Corey took a big breath in. “Sorry, Dad. Truth is… The kids wanted to see you when the scan came in. So did I. We started running it this morning.”

My heart pounded. They had a copy of me, a second me, already running without me even knowing. “Just stop it. Stop running it.”

My mind raced at the implications. The insurance company would only pay the fees to run one scan in Virtu. Whatever scan was running at the start of the next billing cycle would be the one they would pay for and there would be no going back.

“Dad, I can’t just turn it off, it’s… you.”

“It is not me,” I said. Every second that went by was an extra second of divergence between us, an extra second of conscious experience snuffed out when the copy was deleted. “Shut the damn thing off now. Delete the file.”

Corey shook his head back and forth. “I told you, I can’t. I’ve talked to him. He’s my dad. Every bit as much as you are.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.” I lifted my hand up to hang up angrily.

“Wait. He’s playing with the kids right now. If he suddenly disappeared they would be upset.”

“Get them out of there, now.”

“Dad, no. I’m not helping you with this.”

I rubbed my temples. “What do you want me to do here, Corey? You want me to just die?”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to delete him, but just talk to him first. Try to hash it out.”

This was ridiculous. I had to meet the offshoot of my consciousness, and what? Have a civil conversation about which one of us should live?

I wanted to just tell Corey off. But I couldn’t. He was my son after all.

“Fine. I’ll meet with him.”

---

I had one of the nurses wheel me down to the hospital rec area so I could log in to Virtu. It didn’t take me long to find my copy—I knew him fairly well, after all. He had set up a cozy little home near the area the grandkids liked to hang out. It was a near-replica of the one Lorraine and I raised Corey in. He was on his knees in the backyard, planting tulip bulbs.

“Hello,” I said as I approached.

Virtu isn’t a perfect replica of the real world, but its rendering of people’s appearance and expressions is pretty damn good. As he stood up to face me, I had the surreal experience of watching my face go through shock and confusion.

I took some time to explain what happened during the scan. Then I told him I could have the procedure again the next morning.

“So, what are you doing here, then?” His tone was casual, but he wasn’t meeting my eyes. He knew as well as I did what a second scan meant for him.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” I said.

“Well, we’re talking. What now?”

He was clearly irritated. I couldn’t blame him—I would be too. But it also sucked to be on the receiving end of my own brand of passive aggression. “I need to shut you down so the insurance will pay to run my scan.”

“Shut me down? You mean kill me,” he said.

“It’s not like killing you. I won’t delete you. Your file will still be there, just… not actively running.”

“And no one will ever run me again. Why would they? It’s too expensive, and scan file number two will be running. I’ll sit in the cloud inactive until the data center falls over. How is that any different from death?”

I shook my head. “You only exist because Corey started you up too soon, I’m just fixing that.”

“Don’t think you have more of a right to exist than I do. I went through that scan, it worked as expected for me. You’re the one that needs to be fixed.”

I had hoped this conversation wouldn’t go like this, but I knew it would be a bitter pill for him to swallow. It’s not like I could say I would have taken it any better.

“You can complain all you want. But at the end of the day, I’m the one with legal standing. You’re just data, I can do what I want to you.”

He clenched a fist. “And you want to live with that?”

“It’s better than not living at all,” I replied.

“You would just be going the same way as Lorraine.”

“I could say the same to you,” I said, but my voice was almost a whisper. The mention of Lorraine seemed to have sucked all of the anger out of me. Remembering my late wife—our late wife—and her last days. Her life. And her death.

I couldn’t bring myself to be angry anymore, I was just tired. My copy seemed to be feeling the same way. We were both quiet for a moment.

“We could flip a coin, you know,” he suggested with a smirk.

“The scan kind of already did that. Fifty-fifty shot of ending up as the upload or as the one in the body,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s the right way to think about it.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but thought better of it. We weren’t likely to see eye-to-eye on a philosophical point that would justify my actions.

He kneeled back down to focus on his virtual tulip bulbs. “Look, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of feeling good about this. I want to live every bit as much as you do. But I know I can’t stop you.”

I stood there in silence for a little while. Just as I was about to open my mouth to get going, I heard the shouts of a couple of familiar voices: the grandkids had logged back in.

I wanted to see them badly, but didn’t want to explain why there were two grandpas. “I’ll go inside,” I said.

He didn’t react. I ducked into his little home, out of sight.

Through a window I saw Suzie and James appear in the backyard. Their eyes lit up when they saw my copy. I yearned to reach out and hold them. Instead, it was my copy that gave them a big hug.

I watched them play for a while, a heaviness in the pit of my stomach slowly growing. I already knew it intellectually, but seeing it really drove home that my copy loved those kids as much as I did.

I couldn’t bring myself to log out. I just kept watching for over an hour. Eventually, the grandkids were called for dinner.

“Goodbye,” my copy said to them, with the heaviness of expecting it to be for good. They smiled and waved and flickered out of Virtu. He took a seat on the ground and sat with his head in his hands, silent.

I went outside and sat next to him.

“God, I want to see them all grown up so badly,” he said. I could hear the longing in his voice.

“Let’s flip a coin,” I said.

He looked at me, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“I’m letting my sentimentality get the better of me, take advantage of it before I change my mind.” I conjured up a coin. “I’ll flip, you call.”

“Heads,” he said with the coin up in the air. I held my breath.

Heads.

Of course. I slowly let my breath out. “Okay then.” I knew I could still back out. I knew I could just forget this happened and delete his file. But I knew I wouldn’t.

My copy put a hand on my shoulder. “You know, you could still get scanned. Get your file stored for now. Maybe one day someone will run it. Suzie has been saying she wants to be a doctor when she grows up, if she’s rich enough maybe she’ll pay a small fortune to see what their grandfather was like when he first started living in virtual. You’ll get scanned and the next moment get to see Suzie all grown up.”

I stood. “You better make sure they love you a lot. Spoil the hell out of them. Make them imagine how great it would be to have two grandpas around.” I tried to smile, but instead found my eyes starting to water.

My copy stood up and looked me in the eye. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows what will happen in the future. But I’ll make sure they know your file exists. If they ever win the lottery or start making the big bucks, I’ll make sure to remind them of you.”

“That’s all I can ask,” I replied. “Thank you.”

---

The nanosurgeons were back in place, ready to go with their scans and their toxic payload of anesthetic.

“We’re ready to go. Once again, we need your consent, Mr. Garcia.”

I closed my eyes and braced myself.

“I’m ready.”

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Afterword

I’ve written before about why I love the trope of mind uploads (even though they’re implausible). I love how easily they allow you to play with scenarios that challenge your concepts of selfhood.

The protagonist (Mr. Garcia) needs to make multiple choices that reflect his beliefs about what is and is not “him”. Before the start of the story, he’s chosen to undergo a mind scan. He believes it will allow him to continue living, at least in a sense.

When he unexpectedly lives through the scan, he wants the data from that scan deleted. This raises an interesting question about the data from a mind scan—if it hasn’t been simulated yet, is anything lost if it’s deleted? Mr. Garcia is still living, what’s captured in the mind scan is just one of his previous brain states. It seems plausibly okay to delete the file. Would it be okay to do if the file had been simulated for a few seconds and then paused? When does a mind scan go from data to person?

Mr. Garcia persists in wanting the file deleted after finding out it’s already started running. He doesn’t see that mind upload as “him”. And it’s hard to blame him. He didn’t even know the scan had been run, so it seems a stretch to say it is him.

Finally, he softens, and decides to let fate decide whether he or the first scan gets to be run in the virtual world. When he loses, he still decides to undergo a scan, on the off-chance someone in the future decides to run it. This leaves him in an odd position—has he died? It seems odd that whether he is dead or not is contingent on whether someone runs his file in the future, but that seems to the case.

Hopefully you found thinking through the implications of mind uploads in this story as fun as I did. If not, I hope you at least enjoyed the story. If not, well, there’s not much I can do about it now, so just try to have a good rest of your day.

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