“You have a life to live, Jasper,” Kyla said. “I don’t want you to throw it away for this.”

  But Jasper’s resolve was firm. He had neglected her in life, not even knowing of her death. Now, given a second chance, he wouldn’t let her go again.

  “Don’t you want me to be with you?” he asked.

  “Of course I do. But I don’t want you to join me just because you want to escape everything else. It may seem like a good idea now, but you will regret it if you do. And I don’t want that for you.”

  “What makes you so sure I’d regret it?”

  “You’re more likely than not.” Kyla shrugged. “Your kid only has a few precious years of childhood. If you decide to stay here, you’d miss out on two. And the last thing I want is for you to regret choosing me.” Then, after a moment, she added quietly, “Even if it means you won’t choose me.”

  Jasper said nothing. He wanted to oppose her, but could not find the words.

  “You’ve worked so hard for everything you have,” Kyla continued. “You have a family. You love them. You won’t throw away all that for a world you know nothing about. There’s nothing for you here.”

  There isn’t nothing. You’re here. You’re the only thing that matters. Jasper wanted to say.

  He stopped himself before any words came out of his mouth. He had given her enough false hope as it is. For as long as they had known each other, he had never chosen her. He turned away. She was right.

  But he couldn’t leave things like this. He couldn’t leave things this way—not when he prayed so hard for a chance to see her again, not when he got the second chance most people could only dream of, not when she was right there, right in front of him.

  “I choose to be a moderator.” Jasper declared. Then, more gently, he looked into her eyes deeply and said, “I choose you, Kyla.” He wished he could hold her hands just then. And just as he made her wish come true, his did.

  The room shimmered brilliantly as Kyla’s eyes widened. Then her face broke into the most beautiful smile, eyes twinkling with tears of joy. She launched into his arms and he pulled her into his warm embrace.

  He closed his eyes and savoured the scent of her hair. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered against his ear. “Thank you. Thanks for choosing us, Jasper.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” said Jasper, pulling her closer. His eyes were closed. There was a price to pay for this decision. He had made it anyway. He had to choose her for once. She deserved to know that she was loved. She had been choosing him every day since they had been together. He should have chosen her a long time ago.

  “Now, we have two years together,” Kyla said when she pulled slightly away from the hug.

  “And more.” Jasper nodded, wearing a warm smile.

  Jasper only realised then that they had been transported to a rocky terrain, full of dust and soot. He took in the post-apocalyptic world they were standing in. “What is this place?”

  “The system has registered your decision. You now have the right to know the truth,” answered Kyla. “This is the place where everything began. Every alive player is given the explanation in this simulated space.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Jasper. “It looks like we’re on an entirely different planet.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  Jasper looked at Kyla incredulously.

  “We’d better sit down. This is going to take a while,” she said. Then, a table and two chairs appeared in front of them. On the table was a pot of brewing tea. Jasper tried not to gape.

  “How much do you know about Infinity Memory?” Kyla asked.

  “Not much beyond the fact that they’re the creators of Ethereal Echoes and that they own other businesses, one of them being Interior Dreams.”

  Kyla nodded. “It’s true the main business of Infinity Memory lies in interactive game design and development. But this has only been the case since a few years ago. For a long time, Innovation Giants was the core focus of the group.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s to be expected. It was a lesser well known organisation, and deliberately so, since it specialises in disruptive technology exploration,” said Kyla.

  “I don’t understand. Humans have terminated all efforts to look for alien civilizations ever since it was established that the annihilation of our species was not improbable upin first contact.”

  Kyla nodded. “That’s true. That’s why the aim of Innovation Giants was to discover extinct alien civilizations.”

  ”Extinct?”

  ”They look for inhabitable planets, and based on the chemical composition, determine if the planet had once been habitable or occupied by foreign species. If that is ascertained to be true, efforts for foreign technology discovery commence.”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “I understand it may be a little difficult to digest. But have you ever wondered why Ethereal Echoes has got its players so hooked? There’s not any other virtual reality game that comes anywhere close to the quality of simulation it provides.”

  “It defines realism, I’ll give you that. Sometimes, when I stay in the game for too long, I begin to wonder whether Ethereal Echoes is the real world, and my life outside is the simulation.”

  “Given the state and pace of VR advancements, this level of realism should be impossible to achieve. Yet, Memory Infinity did it with Ethereal Echoes.”

  “Because they capitalised on discoveries from mining data from extinct alien civilizations?”

  Kyla nodded.

  “Large language models, chatbots, when they’re trained on data of past loved ones, the best result is still a mimicry of the real person. They can copy their speech patterns, their mannerisms—but it’s never really them. And the ones who knew them best? They’ll always feel the difference.”

  Jasper frowned. “Why? I mean, if the model is trained well enough—”

  “Because people aren’t just a collection of past conversations,” she interrupted. “We grow. We change. We react to new experiences. But an AI? It’s stuck with whatever data it was given. Once someone dies, their dataset is frozen in time. It stops evolving.”

  She leaned back. “That’s why bots trained on a continuous stream of data—like, say, digital clones of celebrities, updated daily for those rent-a-girlfriend or boyfriend services—stay convincing. But the ones based on the dead? They start to feel repetitive. Stale. Because they can’t change. They just replay the same fragments of a person, over and over, like an echo trapped in a loop.”

  Jasper was quiet for a moment, staring at the flickering sky overhead. “So… you’re saying trying to bring someone back like that is pointless.”

  She sighed. “I’m saying that with personalised chatbots, it’s never really them. And deep down, you’ll always know it,” said Kyla. “Ethereal Echoes provides a different offering.” She took a sip of tea before continuing. “You wanted to know where I am. Now you’re here with me. We’re in Everopia. Eternal Echoes provides a platform for communication between Everopia and Earth.”

  Kyla allowed a few moments for Jasper to take in the information. Everopia was not a different planet. It was a different dimension. Myths and theories were not as ephemeral as he thought.

  “Why is this not common knowledge? I thought such technology would have been popularised.”

  “Memory Infinity has been prudent in their introduction of this offering. Their wish is to captalise on it—that’s unsurprising. But there are delicate political lines to tread on. Any misstep could lead to the termination of this project.”

  Jasper nodded in understanding.

  “I can’t believe it. How do they store your data? It’s like you’re the same person I knew.”

  ”I am not a replica. I am exactly as you know me,” said Kyla. “It’s inaccurate to say now that diamonds are a girl’s best friend. They’re about to become man’s best friend. All humans will learn to love diamonds when they realise it can offer something close to eternal life.”

  “What kind of alien technology does this?”

  ”The kind that is able to store the data of the deceased in diamonds. Then we exist in Everopia forever, and can access Ethereal Echoes as Spirit players.”

  ”This… Is this a form of immortality?”

  ”You could say that. We have to die before we achieve immortality. Memory Infinity helps people with both.”

  ”I don’t understand. I thought you died of cancer.”

  ”I was, but I didn’t want to suffer,” said Kyla. “As part of the palliative care, they provide a slow form of euthanasia. I take the medicine, poison, whatever you like to call it before bed. Then I wake up the next morning, until I don’t. The whole process is entirely painless. That’s guaranteed.”

  Jasper thought for a moment before he asked, “You said Memory Infinity capitalises on this technology.”

  ”By offering a chance at immortality. Also, this option costs a pretty penny. I had to empty my savings,” said Kyla. “And it’s more popular than you‘d think. At first I was surprised. But when you think about it, it makes sense. Memory Infinity definitely knows what it’s doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why would people choose to do this? Why did I choose this?”

  Jasper thought about Roland and his wife. Then he thought about Kyla and their conversations. “To talk to the people we love even beyond death?”

  “Yes. They’re capitalising on love and grief, two of the most powerful human emotions. It’s a wonder there aren’t any more products that cater to these needs. And to offer it in the form of a game, which has its own inherent addictive qualities… it’s genius in my opinion.”

  “How did they find you? How do they find clients?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. But you know, as long as people keep loving and people keep dying, they’ll always have a market. The best time is spent on making wonderful memories, and almost everything anyone ever does is for moments like these,” said Kyla, intertwining her fingers with his and clasping their palms together slowly. “My guess is that they probably scrape data from hospitals and messaging apps to identify the ill, the dying, the ones illicit relationships. There’s a good quantity of clientele there.”