The day has come to re-publish Harry’s Reality so it is available in any format besides Kindle. Before I re-publish, I’m looking for little typos–things I see in other e-books I’d like to stay free of mine. When I have re-published, Harry’s Reality will be available in all digital forms, not only through Smashwords and Amazon, but all other e-book vendors as well. Let’s get back to Harry’s reality now. What does one do in paradise when they have a problem, i.e., bad dreams like Harry is having. Simple. Just as we would do… Almost.
The Cyber Bio therapist, a Bio face and form of the warmest proportions, sat in a plush, leather-covered easy chair, pursing her lips, shaking her head and affectionately scolding her patient. For a psych intervention program, her titillating image was real enough: blonde hair, pale delicate skin, full lips, voluptuous in form, sensuous in movement, and generally soft in focus. Her presence was also familiar to Harry—like someone he knew intimately. He knew the face and body well because it was from his own memories; she had the look of Marilyn Monroe, an archetype film star that he recognized from his vidchip collection of ancient media entertainment.
Harry was completely relaxed and calm with his 70-inch frame stretched out in a leather recliner that belonged in the archetypal psychotherapist’s office, an embellishment to the SensaVision reality used to create an atmosphere conducive for probing Bio behaviors. His living quarters merged with the program environment. These surroundings were now more spacious and comfortable, subtly laced with the therapist’s personal images, which Harry finds relaxing.
Olfactory elements complemented the visual impressions as he was enveloped in a fragrance that reminded him of fresh air, flowers and the aftermath of sex. He saw a well formed, physically fit woman and his eyes were immediately drawn to her ample breasts. She had a fit body-type like Harry, with pale skin and platinum blonde hair, but that’s where the resemblance between the two ended. She was very attractive, almost beautiful, and sensual in a way that made her not only a suspicious Makr choice but dangerous to a control freak like Harry.
Although he prided himself on being fit, he had never considered himself a very attractive Bio. Oh, Makr could make anyone who sees you see you the way you want to be seen—of course subject to His approval. Harry appreciated being unique, yet he couldn’t help seeing himself as too medium in stature and too ordinary- or average-looking to have had anything other than a typically boring social life among his Makr-approved liaisons. That’s life. Bio life anyway.
Makr’s SensaVision technology creates a perfect world as determined by the greatly evolved artificial intelligence Himself. In doing so He had produced a convincing multi-dimensional set of images, sounds, pressure, and smells to shape Harry’s personal reality, thus making him emotionally receptive for the therapist program. The female psychotherapist seemed a genuine part of Harry’s household, maybe even a part of his intimate family. In a way she was. She was part of Harry’s psyche, reinforced with Makr’s reality of a perfect Bio world.
That he found himself irresistibly drawn to her was to be expected. A certain amount of “chemistry” between therapist and patient is necessary in establishing rapport.
This seductive experience was more than that. He knew from his work as a Bio program analyst that this was beyond the limits of any of the therapist intervention programs he knew of. But then Makr was constantly evolving. Harry could draw only two conclusions: one, this program was simply a new and improved version over others he had used previously, or two, this was more than a therapist intervention program, and something else. It was the something else that worried him.
With that thought his heart beat a little faster and perspiration began to form on his skin.
Suddenly, he felt a barely detectable current of cool air dry his skin.
“You must not be afraid, Harry Bolls,” cooed the Cyber program’s holographic manifestation. “You wanted Makr to intervene and comfort you in your dreams so He sent me. I am here to help.”
“A virtual angel?”
“Something like that, Harry.”
“I just need someone to talk to.”
“We know. I am considered a great conversationalist—even in Bio terms.”
“You aren’t a psych intervention program at all, are you?” Harry asked, immediately on the offensive. “You’re more than that.”
“Well, yes and no. You might say I’m an improved version.”
“What do I call you? Doctor?”
“If you wish. In addition to the usual medical degree, I do have the knowledge equivalent to those holding doctorates in all relevant scientific areas of psychology, neurobiology, chemistry and physiology, and I have reviewed the scientific literature for the last 2,000 years, but you may call me Mary if that makes you more comfortable.”
“My grandmother’s name was Mary.”
“Yes.”
There is a short pause in the exchange until Mary breaks the silence. “Do you have any more personal questions to ask me before we start?”
Harry was at a loss for words so he said the first thing that came to mind. “Do we have a time limit? Bio psychoanalysts…”
“Ancient history. No time limit. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
Or Makr wants me to be here, thought Harry.
“I have dreams, weird dreams,” he blurted out.
“Yes, I know.”
“I can’t move my body.”
“Actually, you can move your head in your dreams. Technically, that’s…”
“I know…part of my body.”
“Hmmm.”
“Wait. How’d you…”
She smiled and winked a knowing wink.
“In my dreams, I hear a loud banging—like someone banging on old-fashioned metal cooking pots…”
“And…?”
Exasperated, he exploded. “And? And! I don’t want to feel this way.”
“Temper,” she cautioned gently. “How does that make you feel?”
Harry backed down and took a breath.
“Besides the pain?”
She nodded. “The pain is important, too. We’ll come back to it. That is, if you don’t mind.”
“No. No…of course not.” He had almost forgotten he was talking to a Makr SensaVision program. No harm yet. Maybe some answers.
She looked at him inquiringly.
“Harry?
“Angry. Afraid.”
“Angry you’ll lose control? Afraid you’ll lose your identity? Which?”
“Both. Yeah, something like that. Exactly like that, actually. Hey, how’d you do that, Doc?” That made sense to Harry. He didn’t like the answer, but she made sense.
“What else, Harry?
“When it’s all over, I feel bad—worthless, I guess. Exhausted and kinda worthless.”
“I see.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want the dreams to happen at all,” he stated emphatically.
“You need not concern yourself with this. Makr has everything under control. He is looking out for you. I am here now to help you get through this. Our dreams are our teachers. We must listen to them.”
The psychobabble began.
Reluctantly, Harry felt her vibes, embraced her empathy, and was seduced and violated by her verbal rhythm. Her sweet, whispering, soothing voice enslaved him with a melodic and rhythmic hypnotic dance, attaching her programmed thoughts to his psyche.
Shaw's Reality 