We’re different people now. Me and Art3mis and Aech and Shoto and Og and Kira, and all the rest of us here aboard the Vonnegut. And our relationships with one another have also evolved, now that we’re immortal beings of pure intellect, freed from our physical forms and set adrift in the vastness of outer space, possibly for all eternity. Even though our perspectives may have changed, we still value those relationships above all else. Because out here, that’s all we have.
That, of course, includes our relationships with our counterparts back on Earth. We all still keep in touch. It’s been over a year since we left, but we still send each other video messages and emails all the time. It’s a bit strange—like being pen pals with yourself in an alternate universe.
Aech and Endira got married back on Earth, as planned, and their counterparts here aboard the Vonnegut exchanged vows, too, at the same exact time.
Shoto and Kiki had their baby boy, Daito. He’s happy and healthy, and we all have the honor of being his godparents. Shoto and Kiki send us a new photo of their son every week.
Wade and Samantha finally tied the knot a few months ago. Their first dance as husband and wife was an elaborate Bollywood number that they performed together. Aech and her wife, Endira, were the Best Man and the Matron of Honor, and they both joined in. The video they sent us, of the four of them dancing together in perfect synchrony, is my absolute favorite. I rewatch it every day.
Last week, Wade sent me a short email that said he and Samantha are expecting a little girl, and they plan to name her Kira. They both seem really happy—especially Wade. The prospect of becoming a father seems to have made him more hopeful and optimistic. He’s going to be a great dad, and I’m looking forward to experiencing fatherhood vicariously through him. It’s the closest to being a parent I’m ever going to get.
In the end, Samantha and Wade both had a change of heart about the ONI. He saw the ONI’s dangers much more clearly. And for the first time in her life, Samantha was willing to acknowledge its benefits.
“I was wrong,” she told me, after she’d told Wade. “This technology does make a lot of people’s lives infinitely better than they would be without it. People like L0hengrin and my grandmother. And it also saves people’s lives—it saves everything about who they were—forever. I have my grandma back. And she has me back too. It’s a miracle and I am grateful for it every day.” Then, because she’s the sweetest and the coolest, Samantha added, “And your stubbornness helped make that happen, Parzival. So thank you. I thank Wade all the time, too, but you deserve at least half the credit.”
* * *
Things aren’t perfect. The people who remain back on Earth are still facing plenty of huge problems. But they also still have the OASIS as their collective means of escape.
Despite the Anorak Incident, billions of people still use an ONI headset every day. Only a few dozen people died as a result of Anorak’s actions, nearly all of them when he crashed Samantha’s jet. The handful of others were killed by other people—murderous criminals who preyed on helpless ONI users while they were being held hostage by Anorak’s infirmware. But there wasn’t a single death caused by Synaptic Overload Syndrome. The ONI headsets hadn’t actually harmed anyone. So humanity collectively decided that the OASIS Neural Interface was completely safe—or at least worth the risk. The people of Earth still need an escape, and I don’t blame them. Neither does Wade. But he still says that he’ll never put on an ONI headset again. And I believe him.
Even with all of the problems confronting our counterparts back on Earth, it’s comforting to know that there are smart, resourceful people back there, doing everything in their power to make life better for their fellow human beings—while digital copies of many of those same people are out here in space, searching to find humanity a new home.
Stored inside the sprawling ARC@ADIA simulation, backed up on a redundant array of solid-state hard drives in the belly of the ship, is a digital library of humanity’s greatest hits. All of our books and music and movies and games and art—we brought it all along with us. A backup of our entire civilization that will survive as long as we do. All of human history and culture—a record of everything that humans were and are—it’s all stored here aboard this ship, like a cosmic ark, carrying a digital time capsule of who we were—and who we still are. And someday perhaps we will encounter another civilization like our own to share it with. Then we’ll finally get a chance to compare notes.