Body of Christ. That phrase had always had a special resonation for Adlai. This is my body, this is my blood. You went up to the priest, hands clasped in front of you, trying not to look foolish, feeling all eyes on you. You said the magic word and then you ate it. You ate Christ’s body. What kind of fucked up thing was that to teach an eight year old?
Adlai felt separated enough from his body as it was. It was a vehicle, this collection of cells and organs which made up consciousness. Nothing more. When he was young he was constantly running into things, cutting himself, watching his blood flow out onto the schoolyard. Never anything serious, he never lost a limb, but he didn’t think that would have made a difference. Adlai was his mind, not his body. The body was unimportant.
Wasn’t that the whole point of religion, when you got right down to it? You attempt to transcend the physical, rise up into the spiritual. Deny yourself physical pleasures, or sins if you prefer, to allow your consciousness to rise above it. What Adlai built in VR made this possible without sacrifice. You could step out of your body without suffering. Stop being the animal you didn’t wish to be.
Of course, by the time most users came upon VR they were adults, had spent their entire lives wrapped up in themselves, didn’t want to leave their bodies behind. They took them with them, or at least the idea of them, the form. Looked the same on one side of the port as the other, with perhaps a few minor adjustments here and there. Bigger shoulders, better skin, slimmer waist. All cosmetic. The same form generally remained. It was unusual for a user to change sex online for any length of time, let alone species.
But then why should we expect any different? How often do you dream you are someone else, something else? Hardly ever. Never, for most people. Their being, their mind is so caught up in their body shape, so affected by the way they look and feel that they simply cannot accurately imagine what being truly different would feel like. More to the point, they simply don’t want to.
Users went so far as to bring their ports over, all the better to mimic reality. Adlai had seen them on the Boulevard, users jacking in as if they were on the other side of the divide, using their ports to jump deeper into the looking glass of VR. A virtual experience of virtual reality.
It wasn’t until later, when the fields were introduced and the ports really opened up for everyone, when the kids got inside, that the real freaks arrived. Children who were uncomfortable with themselves, especially teenagers, transformed themselves completely when handed the freedom to do so. The VR worlds took on a new slant. They became fascinating, messy, dangerous places. Jungles.
We all brought our selves along for the ride, our issues and worries, our prejudices and obsessions. VR magnified them all. It was a way to exert some sort of control over life and its multitudinous confusion.
You were no better. Gave yourself a hat and a pipe and a superior attitude.
Adlai stared out the window at the rain sheeting down.
Long ago now.
Much in the way the physical and mental sides never fit together, so the past never seemed to belong either. It was a source of confusion. He couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t identify with the person he used to be, remember what he thought or did. Why he acted. There was no whole self link between then and now. Life was a whirl of confusion.
Cigarettes though, cigarettes ground you. Much like alcohol.
He pulled a single cigarette from behind his ear and put it in his mouth. A moment later the bartender reached across and lit it for him.
They drag you back into your body. Remind you where you are. That’s why so many drunks smoke. Stops them wandering off from themselves, getting lost in the jumble of their ideas.
God was a smoker, Adlai had understood that a long time ago.
“The questions is,” the bartender had moved away again, but Adlai continued on despite him. “What type of cigarettes does he prefer?”
