Algorithms

3

"When's the last time you heard of anyone doing anything real?" Marc asked, one day while we were stocking shelves.

"My cousin just learned to surf," I offered.

"Outside? In the ocean?"

"Well no. At one of those indoor surf parks. But she had a great time."

"I bet it cost her three week's pay. Just so she could learn to surf on fake waves in a controlled environment." Marc said.

"You know oceans aren't safe—sharks, jellyfish, pollution, undertows... People used to drown. What's wrong with surfing in a place made for it?" I asked.

"Because—well, first of all," Marc seemed exasperated. "Experiences—enjoyment—shouldn't be expensive. And second of all, it's not real."

"It wasn't a simulation," I said. "She was really on a surfboard, riding waves of real water."

"But it was perfectly safe, controlled. A fake ocean. Maybe back when people surfed in the real ocean, the danger was part of the fun, enhanced the experience."

"Well it's even more expensive to go to the real ocean you know. You have to fly to one of the certified clean and safe beaches, and then they're not exactly cheap."

"Or you could just go to any old beach."

"They're not safe, Marc. And anyways they have simulated ones that are just as good for a lot cheaper." I was becoming tired of the conversation.

"You don't get it, Erin. I want to feel the real ocean—even with the chance something could happen to me."

"You want to be in danger? That's crazy."

"I want to... feel fear. It's a primal emotion that they've taken from us, and we have to pay for a horror movie or an amusement park or a virtual game to feel a cheap imitation of it." His eyes looked weary, and he sighed. "Nothing is real anymore." He looked at me intently for a few seconds before walking away.