Longing

Do you feel alone in a crowd?

I do. Always.

But then, I am.

The street vendor who just handed me a sandwich isn’t real, any more than the kids running by.

I walk over to a park bench, take a bite of ham and Swiss, and watch an ant crawling across the pavement. He isn’t real, either.

The aliens who built this illusion for me felt sorry for accidentally destroying our colony.

They plan to extend the interface so I can travel. More fake people in more fake cities. But all I want is to touch one real human.

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