Jay found himself sitting across from a bearded old man in voluminous maroon robes.

“Why are you here?” the robed man asked.

“I was sentenced to VSIM rehabilitation by my judge-counselor.”

“Yes,” replied the robed man. “You would choose the literal interpretation of the question, wouldn’t you?”

They sat in a room of yellow-paper screens, softly lit by hanging candles. The air was cool and sweet, the ground, cold and hard. Far off, Jay could hear people chanting softly. Or at least, the sensory replicators attached to his skull simulated these details with such veracity they may as well have been real.

“What other interpretation is there?” Jay asked.

The robed man smiled. A manila folder manifested in his hand as if by magic. He appeared to read through it, but Jay thought this was for show, since the data absorption should’ve been instantaneous.

“You’re an interesting case. Jay Bender, born Jaime Arvind Chicao of the Old Faiths Collective—”

“Which I left.”

“Yes, and then fabricated a new identity and began a life of a crime.”

“A life of freedom.”

The robed man leafed through more pages.

“I begin to understand why you presented a conundrum to your JC.”

“Oh?” Jay knew why. What he didn’t know was if the creature sitting across from him was AI or an actual person. These days, it was hard to tell. He could be talking to a plugged-in human or a collection of holistic algorithms, the digital equivalent of saints’ bones animated by technomantic voodoo.

“You might be the laziest man I’ve ever met,” the robed man continued. “During all your rehabilitation stints, you never had a chore you didn’t try to shirk, a loophole you didn’t exploit. If you’d been forced to whitewash fences, no doubt you’d have gotten your entire neighborhood painting inside of a week.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jay asked.

“A reference from a time when trees were pulped to make books.” The old man smiled again. “No one was directly harmed by your actions, at least. Judge-counselors can only recommend neurochemical cleansing for violent offenses. You’re one of the few gray areas in the justice system: an unrepentant, nonviolent, layabout.”

The robed man began listing the particulars of Jay’s crimes (identity theft, fraud, malfeasance, tax evasion), but Jay only paid attention when he concluded his spiel with, “Since prior attempts at reformation have failed, we’re going to try something a little different: enlightenment.”

Jay finally realized where he’d been sentenced. Over the past century, as AI improved and neural skinsuits became affordable, VSIMs, or virtual simulations, had exploded in popularity. Every human experience was commodified; every pain, pleasure, and thrill packaged to be discreetly sampled in the privacy of home. Some people, and their numbers increased daily, never left their skinsuit pods, not even for basic necessities.

They still wanted fulfillment, though. And in this New New Age, one of the latest fads was immersive theological MMOs. Some were practical. You could go on a virtual pilgrimage to Mecca or take part in a meditation retreat halfway round the world. Crasser packages, offered by so-called code gurus, promised things like “apotheosis in thirty-three days—or your money back!” You could experience what it was like to be Martin Luther as he nailed his ninety-five theses to the church door. You could witness the burning bush and receive the Ten Commandments. You could even go through the Crucifixion, feeling a love for all humanity as you “died.”

Jay had been forced to go through them all, at the Old Faiths Collective.

“You gonna save my soul?” Jay asked. “Because that won’t go well.”

The robed man let out a deep sigh. “I said nothing about souls. Enlightenment can mean different things for different people. You may leave us once you’ve answered my question.”

Did the robed man appear so calm because he’d crafted his avatar to look that way, or did he lack the brain chemicals to generate anxiety?

Either way, Jay didn’t like him.

“What’s your question?” Jay asked.

The robed man smiled once more. It was a vague smile of serene, benevolent contentment. Jay imagined monks practiced for years to produce such smiles.

“The one you asked when I arrived,” Jay realized. “But I did answer it.”

The robed man shook his head. “You must answer the question honestly. That is your path to enlightenment.”

Jay was tempted to trigger a hallucination, but the problem was simulation reverb. AIs were the conduit through which a VSIM’s vast programming flowed. If they lost their hold on reality, the simulation they maintained grew very disturbing. People who’d survived simulation reverb often needed months of therapeutic soothing to process the trauma. The human brain just wasn’t equipped to experience a heuristic algorithm’s nervous breakdown.

The robed man led Jay outside. The VSIM spared no expense on the view, at least. They stood atop a smooth stone terrace surrounded by the concentric circles of a sand garden. Beyond the monastery’s elegantly carved red railings lay a range of snowcapped mountains, surrounded at their base by a dense, misty forest. A cold breeze raised goose bumps on Jay’s forearms. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the susurrus of the trees below.

Jay took a deep, imaginary breath. Even the air tasted perfect.

“I don’t think you realize how lucky you are. Many applicants spend years donating time and money until a space finally opens here. Some of them may be upset, but no matter. I’m the abbot, and you may stay with us for as long as enlightenment takes.”

“How long will that be?”

The abbot raised an eyebrow and finally said, “Five years.”

“What if I try really hard? Meditate for eight hours a day or something.”

The abbot raised a finger. “Ten years.”

“I just said I’d try really hard—”

“Twenty years.”

The logic wasn’t too hard to stand on its head. Jay asked, “What if I put in absolutely no effort at all and just enjoy your free room and board?”

The abbot’s mouth fell open. Evidently, this wasn’t a reply he was used to. Finally, he answered, “You are an unusual specimen.”

• • • •

He tried to hack them, of course. The monastery was incredibly lifelike, simulating everything from actual dust on the floor to fully functional bathrooms, odors included. With so much information flooding the AI, there had to be numerous interdependencies. All Jay had to do was find the right one and push. Yet no matter what walls Jay tapped, cobwebs he pulled, or physical laws he tried to bend, reality in the monastery stayed stubbornly stable.

It was, Jay realized, a most cunning prison.

When not probing reality for weakness, Jay looked up the abbot’s white fence reference, which led him to the works of Mark Twain. No doubt the abbot had meant his comparison to Tom Sawyer as a critique, but Jay considered it a compliment. Tom had freedom. Tom went on adventures. All he wanted to do was float down the river with his friend Huck.

At first, Jay refused to participate in the monastery’s daily routine of chores and guided meditation. No one forced him to, but if he didn’t take part, he didn’t get fed. The monks didn’t starve him—his pod still injected the requisite nutrients and calories to keep his body alive—but he never got to taste anything, which was hard; the cooking here was surprisingly good.

Jay found the concept of VSIM chores idiotic. Why sweep cobwebs when a command could make them vanish? Why wash dishes when you could simply replace the dirty ones or, better yet, program the sim so dishes never got dirty? Why even simulate dirty dishes, cobwebs, or bodily functions, anyway?

Eventually, though, Jay’s desire to taste his food won out. That, and the realization that doing chores would give him more chances to find the cracks in the VSIM’s facade.

When Jay noticed that the monks had begun to leave their chores for him to finish as well, he was furious . . . but he also felt a twinge of satisfaction. Even so-called monks weren’t above petty slights. He didn’t say anything to the abbot. Partly because he enjoyed knowing something the abbot didn’t, but mostly because completing the additional chores gave him even more hacking opportunities.

Meditation was a disaster. It was too hard to sit still, almost torture to be alone with his own thoughts. In VSIM, Jay was a being of pure thought—how could he simply stop that?

Sessions always started with the monastery residents sitting cross-legged on mats, facing their guide.

“Picture the dust,” the guide would say. “It’s light and blows with the wind. It’s everywhere. See it settle on the cold, cracked stone. Feel it coat the wood beams that support our temple. See how a ray of sunshine turns it into grains of gold. These particles, they come from everything and nothing. Skin, stone, crumb, and web.”

The rest of the session had them visualizing all sorts of mundane things in their surroundings, but by then Jay had long stopped paying attention. His legs were cramped, and his mind wandered. In his utter boredom, he tried to recall passages from Tom Sawyer or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. By the end, he was usually sitting in anxious, twitchy agony.

It soon became a matter of pride. Surely, if these lazy weirdos could do this, so could he. In desperation, he sought out the abbot.

“Ah, our guest Mr. Bender. What can I do for you?”

Jay sat down on the floor across from the abbot and realized he was in the exact same place he’d started his VSIM sentence. “I’m having trouble meditating.”

The abbot smiled. “Why not ask one of your fellow residents for help?”

“I don’t think any of them would be interested.”

For once, the abbot looked surprised. “Why do you say that?”

Jay hesitated. “They don’t like me. They’re always leaving me their chores. Probably because I’m on a rehab sentence.”

The abbot chuckled. “They’re giving you their chores because I told them to.”

For a moment, Jay was too shocked to speak. “What? Why?”

“I thought you might like to know how it feels for someone to leave their work for you to complete. Also, you were so interested in fiddling with the monastery’s digital boundaries, it seemed cruel to deprive you of the opportunity.”

“You son of a—”

“You should know that nearly all the residents protested this. Many wished to spare you their work, and it was only upon my insistence that they continued.”

The abbot’s face stayed serene while Jay swore most inventively.

“May I ask you a question?” said the abbot after Jay finished.

Jay shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why do you constantly seek to bend the rules? Your defiance is almost pathological. In fact, by trying to get out of work, you seem to create more for yourself. You’re smart enough to know this. So . . . why?”

“You’re trying to be my therapist now?” said Jay.

“Merely trying to understand. But if the question makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to answer it.”

Jay took a deep breath. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Are we bullying you here, Mr. Bender?”

“If there’s any bully, it’s our justice system. But that’s not who I’m talking about.”

The abbot said nothing, waiting for Jay to elaborate.

“Growing up in the Old Faiths Collective was . . . hard. Don’t get me wrong. For people who believed, I guess it could be nice. Probably. But when you’re forced to go through it, and the punishment for acting out was VSIM immersion . . . All punishment was virtual, but it was still very corporal, if you catch my drift.”

The abbot studied him for a long time before finally saying, “I’m sending you to the village.”

Jay blinked. “There’s a village?”

He’d always assumed the world ended outside the monastery’s high walls, that the forest beyond was an effect, the digital equivalent of a pointillist painting glimpsed from afar.

“Where do you think we get our food?”

“This is a virtual simulation. I thought it just appeared.”

The abbot sighed. “While it’s not forbidden to speak of this place’s flexible reality, by now you should know it’s considered rude.”

“Sorry. So we have a village that supports us. Who are these people? What do they do?”

“For the most part, they live simple lives, crafting and farming while waiting for a spot to open in the monastery.”

“Sounds like every bad video game ever,” Jay murmured.

The abbot no doubt heard this comment but elected to ignore it.

“Why me?” Jay asked.

“Many of our monks have been here for years. You are more at home with the outside world. And there’s something we need that can only be provided . . . from outside.”

Ah, Jay thought. He was almost disappointed. For a moment, he’d begun to believe the abbot was the real deal. “What do you need me to smuggle in?”

“My replacement.”

“What? But I thought you were . . .”

The abbot chuckled. “An AI? It’s all right. Many of the monks have speculated over the years. In truth, I’m just a tired old man who’s ready to shed one last earthly attachment. It’s almost time for me to wake up.”

“If you’re not an AI, who is?”

“No one.”

“Then how does this place function?” Jay asked, waving his hands at the walls. “The details here are more accurate than I’ve ever seen in a VSIM.”

The abbot leaned forward, as if to impart a great mystery. “The secret is mindfulness.”

Jay waited for the abbot to wink or laugh. When that didn’t happen, he said, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I am.”

“Sounds like bullshit.”

Candlelight danced across the abbot’s face as he guffawed. “It does indeed! But think about it. We teach living in the moment. You and hundreds of others participate in various concentration exercises. Breath. Dust. Odor. Taste. Smell. The VSIM is programmed to use our brains’ processing power and incorporate our thought constructs into itself. We’ve no need for a synthetic consciousness’s help, for we create our own collective reality.”

Jay didn’t buy it—the only thing he’d managed to produce during his meditation sessions was a severe case of anxiety, but there was no point in arguing further. “So, your replacement is arriving from your applicant farm? Why don’t they just port him here?”

“It’s traditional that every resident of the monastery comes to us from the village, even my replacement.”

“I didn’t start there.”

The abbot nodded. “In your case, we didn’t think it would sit well with the villagers to see someone who’d earned their place with us by being a serial delinquent.”

“Point taken,” said Jay. “So let me get this straight. You preach letting go of attachment and transcending reality, yet you all live in a simulation, using thousands of terabytes of data just to pretend you live in the real world.”

Jay hoped his jab would rile the abbot, but instead, the man smiled even more widely. “Yes! And the end goal of our practice, as in the so-called real world, is to wake up from the illusion. Here, we train to live in reality so that when our time is over, we can see through it.”

“I don’t understand.”

The abbot nodded. “Perhaps you will gain understanding on your pilgrimage to town.”

The next day, dressed in the robes of the monastery, Jay set out to find the abbot’s replacement. The front gates opened with a huge creak as several sweaty monks cranked the chain winches in the gatehouse. Beyond the walls, a path led to a thick forest canopy, its shadows heavy and dark.

Though the jungle seemed foreboding from outside, once beneath the trees, it was actually quite pleasant. Green-tinged rays shone through the thick palms. Birds chirped and cawed. Far off, Jay could hear monkeys calling to each other.

After taking a moment to savor his new surroundings, Jay started trying to break them. Yet even here, gravity stayed stubborn, dirt remained granular, and bark retained its hardness, no matter how Jay massaged it. He tried etching various programming glyphs into the soil, but if there were any AIs or admins monitoring him, they didn’t take the bait.

Finally, Jay kicked a tree in frustration, which caused a loose branch to fall on his head. To his surprise, he chuckled. Before his time in the monastery, he would’ve tried to chop the tree down. Instead, he thought of a new twist to an old thought experiment: If a simulated tree falls in a simulated wood but only a simulated idiot is there to witness it, is there any sound but fury?

Jay continued through the forest with a smile on his face. Eventually, he climbed a hill that took him along a winding ridge just above the tree line. He looked back. Veiled in jungle mists, he could just make out the vague outline of the monastery tucked into the cliffside. A curious sensation arose in his chest . . . did he actually miss the place?

A little while later, he came to a narrow, scrub-lined ledge overlooking a churning river. Jay was halfway across when a loud growl soured his good mood. At the far end of the ledge, a snarling tiger slowly stalked out of the brush.

Jay’s nostalgia vanished. What the hell kind of simulation was this? His first impulse was to run, but didn’t running from a predator encourage it to chase you? In most VSIMs, if your avatar died, you simply reloaded. But here, bruises hurt. Shit stank. If the tiger digitally disemboweled him, Jay feared it would be excruciating. Permadeath was a transition he definitely wasn’t ready for.

The tiger drew closer. Jay studied the ledge, and another solution presented itself. Keeping an eye on the predator, he crept over the side and clung from some of the cliffside ferns’ dangling roots.

To his astonishment, as Jay hung from the side of the ledge waiting for the tiger to leave, small mice emerged from gaps in the rocks and began gnawing on the precarious roots holding him aloft. Jay stared incredulously. Was this some kind of sick joke? He thought of flinging the mice at the tiger, but that would have broken the monastery’s rule of nonviolence. Much as he wanted to survive, Jay was pretty sure harming digital creatures would add to his sentence. Still, as the roots frayed and the mice continued to gnaw, Jay wondered if those extra years might be worth it.

That’s when he noticed the strawberries.

Beneath the roots, growing along a sharp outcropping on the ledge, was a patch of ripe, red strawberries, shining like rubies in the sun. Even in his desperate state, Jay’s mouth watered when he saw them.

What Jay did not do was eat the fruit and enjoy his last few seconds in the VSIM. He realized that while some might see this fuckery as a parable about enjoying life’s moments while you could, he had no desire to take part in such a bloody lesson.

Jay snagged the strawberries and offered them to the mice, who immediately stopped gnawing on his fraying lifeline and enjoyed a fruity snack.

The roots, however, continued to unravel. Realizing he had a choice between certain virtual death and an uncertain virtual standoff, Jay chose accordingly. As he scrambled back up the ledge, the mice scurried past the tiger, who roared and chased after them, disappearing into the brush. Once he’d caught his breath, Jay hurried across the ledge.

When he arrived in the village a short while later, Jay found the new abbot sitting in the village square, speaking to an admiring crowd. The would-be abbot was as rotund as some avatars of enlightenment and looked just a few years older than Jay. His head was newly shaven and his robes pristine. Jay found his smile smug rather than benevolent.

The villagers, however, hung on the would-be abbot’s every word. They ooh’d and ahh’d at every pearl of wisdom, pearls which Jay recognized as liberally cherry-picked from a dozen different religions.

“Ah my son, it’s good you have come,” the new abbot said upon seeing him. He turned to the villagers, “The monastery has sent one of their own for me. Go my children, in peace and love. Go with my blessing and the blessings of the great kharma-sutra above.

“They’re a simple people,” the would-be abbot said to Jay as the villagers dispersed, “yet their kindness greatly warms my heart.”

“Indeed, it’s difficult to know how to respond to such hot air,” Jay murmured.

As they walked through the jungle, the new abbot talked nonstop, peppering his rambling discourse with the occasional inane platitude. He only grew silent when they came upon a young woman pacing back and forth along a creek.

“What is the problem, my daughter?” asked the would-be abbot.

She was very noticeable, with curves over hard muscle forming a most pleasing shape. Before his time in the monastery, Jay would’ve hacked her socials, sent over her favorite drink, and then pretended it was a mistake, that he’d meant to order the drink for himself. Then, he’d apologize and mention he had to get back to watching whatever media she’d last mentioned enjoying. It didn’t always work, but the results were at least entertaining.

“Oh, I just had my toenails done and don’t want to get my feet wet,” said the woman, her lower lip extending in a pout. “Could you help me cross the river?”

River was, perhaps, a misnomer, as it was little more than a shallow stream.

“Certainly,” the new abbot said, and to Jay’s astonishment, the man knelt before her. “Hop on my shoulders, and I shall take you across.”

The woman did so, and the would-be abbot carried her to the other side, a feat which took all of twenty seconds, though Jay thought he may have stretched it out a bit.

The woman thanked the would-be abbot, batting her eyes and smiling.

“Of course, my child, of course,” her rescuer replied. “Please come by our monastery should you ever wish to seek enlightenment.”

She promised she would do so. Jay and the would-be abbot walked on.

“What is troubling you, my son?” the would-be abbot eventually asked.

“You know the monastery requires a vow of celibacy, right?” said Jay.

“Of course.”

“Well, we’re not supposed to even look at unattached women unless they’re monks. You not only looked at her, but you carried her.”

“Ah, but my son,” the would-be abbot said with an air of grave profundity, “I dropped the woman a while back. Why do you still carry her?”

Jay rolled his eyes at this obvious deflection. “That stream was only a couple feet wide. You just wanted to feel that lady’s thighs around your head.”

The would-be abbot’s smile tightened for a moment. “If you say so.”

“Listen, I’m here on a mandated behavioral therapy sentence. But if you’re going to lecture others about foregoing worldly delights, you shouldn’t lose your head over a damsel in distress.”

“So, I shouldn’t have carried her?” the would-be asked.

“If we’d been fording a roaring river and she’d had kids or something, I’d have helped you myself. But this was just a lady trying to tempt some monks.”

The would-be abbot sidled up to Jay and elbowed him. “You expect me to believe you’ve forgone all enjoyment of the flesh since you came here?”

“Well . . . yeah. It’s not like there’ve been many opportunities.”

“C’mon. I know all about you, Mr. Jay Bender,” the would-be abbot put an arm around his shoulder. “In fact, you’re just the fellow I wanted to talk to.”

“Why? Are you going to kick me out?”

The would-be abbot lowered his voice. “Just the opposite, brother. I want you to help me run this place. Do you realize how much these suckers pay to be part of this commune? One thousand credits every month, and that’s just at the start. Together, we could turn this thing into a goldmine!”

“This is a trick, isn’t it?” said Jay.

The would-be abbot drew a few programming sigils in the air. Suddenly, they were standing within a glowing golden dome. “There. Now we’re shielded from monitors.”

“How did you do that?” Jay asked, more than a little jealous.

“I already got admin privileges, my son. Now watch.” The would-be abbot drew several more glowing symbols in the air. Everything around them fell silent. When Jay noticed a falling leaf paused mid-descent, he realized reality itself had come to a standstill. Far from being intrigued, Jay felt mildly offended. After living in this VSIM for so long, breaking the illusion felt like a violation.

“Here. Scan my avatar ID.” The would-be abbot held out his hand, and a glowing barcode floated above him. “My name’s Floyd Gandalfino. I’m sort of what you might call an expert in these kinds of operations.”

Jay had heard of Gandalfino. Before Jay’s time, but they’d run in similar circles. The man was a legend: a consummate huckster, founder of over a dozen cults, stealing credits and data from whole cities. Then one day, he’d just disappeared, vanishing so thoroughly everyone thought he was dead. Yet the glowing ID contained all Gandalfino’s known genetic markers. It couldn’t be faked, at least Jay had never heard of it being done. So, he was the real deal.

“Listen,” said Jay. “You’ve got a sweet gig, but you should take it seriously. These people, they really believe this stuff. The current abbot, the man you’re replacing, he’s dedicated his life to making the VSIM as real as it can be.”

“That fool?” the would-be abbot said, smirking at him. He no longer spoke in the soothing tone of a guru. “You seriously bought his bullshit? He’s not a believer, just a fraud running a small time con. He never maximized its potential, though. With your help, I could milk these sheep for all their worth. We could be the next big self-help movement!”

Jay realized why he disliked Gandalfino. Because he’d been him, once upon a time.

“I know it sounds corny,” said Jay, “but the monks here really believe this stuff. You can find something real here, if you let it happen.”

“Like you have? From what the security reports say, all you’ve done since you got in is try to break out.”

“I’m not going to bilk these people.”

The would-be abbot rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you’re not going to help, then at least stay out of my way.”

“Or what?” Jay said.

“Or I’ll make sure you get transferred somewhere worse.” With a snap of his fingers, the golden dome vanished, and reality resumed.

Before, Jay would have punched the guy. Now, he folded his hands, bowed, and said, “My deepest apologies.”

When they arrived at the ledge over the rapids, Jay almost let Gandalfino walk ahead without mentioning the tiger. But then, he imagined the current abbot’s face as he explained how his replacement had been digitally clawed to shreds.

“Wait,” said Jay.

Gandalfino turned toward him with raised eyebrows.

Jay sighed. “There was a tiger here when I first came through. It’s a test, I think.”

Gandalfino grinned. “I already told you; I got admin privileges. Nothing can hurt me.”

The tiger was waiting for them. Rather than scramble back, the would-be abbot proclaimed loudly, “Fear not, for I have achieved enlightenment and am one with the universe. No living thing will harm me, for my soul is pure, my dharma bright.”

The man thought it was all a show, Jay realized.

“Yes, but the tiger is growling rather loudly,” said Jay. “If you want my advice—”

Gandalfino raised a finger. The tiger stalked forward.

“Wait, that shouldn’t happen,” Gandolfini said. He frantically drew runes in the air, but the tiger only growled louder. “Something’s wrong.”

“What?” Jay asked.

“My overrides!” the would-be abbot shouted. “They’re not working!”

The tiger crouched low. Jay closed his eyes. He heard a most un-serene scream, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the would-be abbot pinned beneath the roaring predator. It smashed a paw into the dirt, missing Gandalfino’s head by inches.

Dust plumed as the tiger drew back its claw to strike again. The words of the daily meditation came back to Jay. Picture the dust.

Jay took a deep breath, released it, and emptied his thoughts. He pictured the dust.

The world opened to him. The flow of seconds became the crawling of years. Jay could see this reality for what it was, beautiful lines of code and math, electrons forming inputs, flipping switches in the three pounds of supercomputing fatty tissue that resided in his skull. Jay could see through the VSIM, beyond it to the physical world. In that moment, he beheld the infinite.

The programming glyphs had been available to him this whole time. They’d always been there. Only by stilling his thoughts, by stepping outside of himself and into the moment could Jay see them. It was terrifying. It was wonderful. It was too much to take in for long.

Before the moment faded, Jay made some quick alterations to the VSIM’s source code. The tiger vanished into glowing motes of dust.

Gandalfino sat up, rubbing his arm where its claws had torn his robes.

“How did you do that?” he asked Jay. “How did you do that?!”

Jay almost said he didn’t know, but that wasn’t quite true. Deep down, part of him remembered how he’d hacked the VSIM. He might not be able to replicate it on demand, but he’d always remember.

“Sometimes the universe shows you the way,” he finally said.

Gandalfino gave him a cunning look. “Play your cards close, then. Tell you what: You teach me how to bypass this VSIM’s framework without admin codes, and I’ll make it worth your while. Hell, I’ll make you an admin.”

A month ago, Jay would have leapt at that.

“I don’t think I could teach you, even if I wanted to.”

“A hard bargainer, eh? Alright, Bender. Name your price.”

Jay let out a breath he’d been holding for years. “I don’t have a price. At least not the kind you could pay.”

For a moment, Gandalfino looked furious. Jay wondered if he was going to try to attack him, but instead he paused. Changed. Grew shorter and thinned out. His features reformed, becoming older and far more familiar.

The abbot stood before Jay and gave one of his mysterious smiles.

“I wondered if it was you,” Jay said. “How did you fake Gandalfino’s biometrics?”

The abbot chuckled. “Floyd Gandalfino was who I was a long time ago, before I was shown a better way by the previous abbot, an entity with infinitely more grace and compassion than I.”

Maybe a tiger really can change his stripes, Jay thought. The metaphor led to another question. “What would you have done if I hadn’t reset the tiger?”

“Probably been disemboweled. It’s quite painful.”

“You’ve done it before?” Jay asked.

For once, the abbot’s smile did not look so serene. “The test to become abbot here is . . . quite rigorous. In any event, you’ve proven yourself and answered my question.”

“What? Really?”

“You defied a con man who tempted you in defrauding innocents. To save him, you achieved oneness and received an understanding of the program so deep you transcended its reality. You saw through the illusion and found your Way. It may not be our Way, but it’s yours, just as is your enlightenment.”

The abbot patted Jay on the shoulder . . . then shoved him off the ledge. Jay screamed as he fell, but then he remembered that in here gravity was just an illusion.

Jay smiled and woke up. He lay in his court-appointed pod, wearing a government-issue skinsuit. Despite the VSIM pod’s regular twitch stimulation, his muscles always felt stiff after a long session. In that moment, however, Jay felt incredibly grateful for the ache.

As he got dressed, Jay thought about the abbot’s last words before he’d shoved him back into reality. There were lots of con men using VSIMs to bilk people. Maybe he could do something about that.

It wasn’t exactly enlightenment, but it would do.