Love in Virtual Reality

Early morning. Waking up, Noah let out a long yawn. A small apartment near the university. The morning sun illuminated her face, still heavy with sleep. Her beauty was reminiscent of a fairy. Her bare, makeup-free skin and disheveled hair gave her a youthful, innocent aura. The audience watching the screen was instantly captivated, but then, a tiny flicker of digital noise glitched beside Noah's face before vanishing. A visual cue to remind everyone that this was a "virtual world."

"Ughhhh..." Stretching her arms wide, Noah headed to the bathroom to wash her face. What breathed life into this otherwise mundane routine was the dynamic camera movement combined with the breathtaking beauty of Elena Asimov, who played Noah. Yet, the occasional digital artifacts flickering across the screen maintained a subtle, unsettling sense of artificiality. After brushing her teeth, lightly washing her face, and running a comb through her hair, Noah stepped out of the bathroom.

"Phew, I'm exhausted..."

"Noah, did you stay up all night again?"

Then, Elliot appeared before her. Having watched Elliot slowly win Noah over in the style of an old-school coming-of-age romance, the audience naturally inferred that the two had rekindled their relationship within his memories. But that wasn't all. There were two toothbrushes in the bathroom, two coats hanging in the living room. Most telling of all, Elliot had just walked out of the bedroom. Somewhere along the way, they had moved in together.

"Elliot!" Noah smiled softly and threw herself into his arms.

"No, I went to bed early last night."

"Really? Well, your face is as beautiful as ever."

"Oh, stop! It's too early for cheesy lines!"

"I mean it. No matter when I look at you, you're the most beautiful person in the world."

Elliot laughed brightly, lifting Noah up and spinning her around. The ordinary daily life of the cohabiting couple passed in a swift montage. Through days and nights, warm seasons and cold, Elliot and Noah nurtured their love. It was a story that seeped into the viewer's mind like a nostalgic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠youth sitcom. But the brighter the couple's smiles bloomed on screen, the deeper the impending drop would feel for the fully immersed audience.

Elliot presents Noah with a bouquet of flowers. Noah beams. The two slow-dance, locked in an embrace beneath a sparkling Christmas tree. And then, immediately after, darkness falls. The cold reality. An empty house. Returning home after a long day at the office, Elliot loosens his tie as he walks down a hallway shrouded in shadow. A heavy, indescribable ache settled over the audience. Reality remained freezing cold, while the world within his memories, where Elliot and Noah were together, overflowed with vibrant life. And that was precisely where the problem lay.

"You need to be careful." In the same pub as before, Elliot tilted his head at his friend Tom's warning.

"What do you mean?"

"Your connection time last week was way too long. I told you, didn't I? Spending too much time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hooked up to the memory storage device can cause identity and memory confusion. Normally, we'd have to send an official warning and even recall the device. I'm the one in charge of your account, so I'm letting it slide for now, but don't get too sucked in."

"Sucked in? Come on. I just... didn't have any plans lately, so I stayed in a bit longer. Didn't you say the more memories we store, the closer it gets to the original? ...Fine. I admit it. Even if it feels a bit strange sometimes... it's not bad. It helps me psychologically."

"Well, if it helps, that's good. Still, you look a lot better lately, you know?"

"...Do I? I hadn't noticed. I was fine before, too."

"Just think of it as a photo album. An album that doesn't fade with time. Even if we can't view the contents, the company monitors the connection logs, so don't do anything too crazy. If your connection time gets excessively long, they can force-terminate your access, okay?"

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

Despite his confident words, the very next scene showed Elliot curled up shamelessly in Noah's lap.

"Elliot...?"

In their cozy little apartment, Noah stroked his hair with a puzzled expression. Elliot lay curled on her lap, looking just as pitiful as he had when he was lying alone on his sofa in the real world. When he didn't answer for a long moment, Noah tilted her head and asked in a worried voice, "What's wrong? You seem so drained today."

"It's nothing. The weather's just so nice, it's making me lazy. I don't have much work to do lately anyway."

"True. It's already graduation season, and it's been so long since we've had a lazy day like this. Right?"

"..."

Elliot remained silent for a brief moment before nodding slowly. "Yeah. You're right."

The camera zoomed out, capturing the incredibly warm, idyllic world.

In this false world, time is recorded in fragments. To recreate the Noah of my memories, only the most important moments are pulled from my mind and projected. Sometimes it feels a bit lacking, but that's fine. The Noah projected by my subconscious is exactly the person I always believed her to be.

Elliot's "world" was gradually reaching completion. But the one who caused a crack in this perfect illusion was none other than his friend, Tom.

Inside the office of the Memory Company, a man in a white lab coat approached Tom.

"Tom. About Elliot, the client you're managing. Have you consulted with him recently? How is he?"

"Oh, yes. There wasn't anything unusual during our last session."

"He was connected for fifty-four hours last week."

"...Excuse me?"

"He's been flagged for a forced lockout. You know how it is. A lot of people fall too deep in the beginning. I'd prefer to handle this gently. Look into it, and if he needs a special consultation, schedule him for my slot."

Flustered by his superior's words, Tom immediately pulled up Elliot's logs.

"This idiot... what on earth is he doing in there?"

He bypassed the privacy restrictions and accessed the feed via administrator mode. What unfolded before his eyes was a couple basking in the bliss of their newlyweds' life. Elliot and Noah had gotten married. The church wedding was packed with guests—including a younger version of Tom himself. Seeing Elliot's radiant, genuine smile for the first time in years, Tom felt a sudden lump in his throat. His eyes grew misty as he stared blankly at the screen, watching his friend's absolute happiness.

"Not getting too sucked in? You absolute fool..."

Staring at the figure of Noah, built from overlapping fragments of memory, Tom was left speechless for a long time.

Following the regional previews, time flew by, and December 23, 1991, arrived. As Fragments of You opened nationwide just in time for the Christmas season, reviews flooded newspapers and magazines as if they had been waiting for this exact moment. Critics everywhere echoed a singular sentiment:

"It's a fascinating premise set in the near future. But what's truly interesting is how incredibly classic the core story is. Despite the unique sci-fi setting, what ultimately fills the screen is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a tragic romance. It's a story that must be carried entirely by its two leads, much like Romeo and Juliet. Their looks, their movements, their gestures, their speech patterns, their tone, the look in their eyes—everything about them has to draw the audience in."

At a family dinner table, with Elena away filming a year-end television special, Olga Asimov was sharing her thoughts on Fragments of You with the gentle-looking man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sitting across from her. Her husband, Dmitry Asimov, who had been listening quietly, smiled softly and asked, "I understand what kind of movie it is now. So, how was Elena, in your opinion?"

"She was decent. She did well enough for her current level. What stood out the most was her improved emotional control. Now that she's shed some of that childishness, there's a slightly different flavor to her performance. Like borscht made without turnips."

"Can you even call that borscht?"

"Exactly my point. It's surprisingly good, but it's not her usual style. It feels like she hasn't fully digested it yet, so there are still a few awkward moments."

Olga recalled Elena's performance. In the film, Elena started out pure and innocent, but as time passed, the truth came to light, and the crisis loomed, she gradually revealed a sharp, venomous edge. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't perfect either—that was Olga Asimov's assessment.

"It wasn't extraordinary, nor was it a perfect imitation of anything. I suppose even that is due to our own shortcomings in teaching her. Still, she did well enough to show promise."

"...I didn't realize our daughter was capable of that kind of acting already."

"That's all thanks to him."

"Who? Sion Lee?"

Dmitry was famous for his deep, smiling eyes, which, due to his prominent brow and deep-set sockets, rarely betrayed his true emotions. But as he asked about Sion, a cold, icy blue glare flashed from beneath his eyelids. Despite his gentle demeanor, an inexplicable pressure radiated from him. In truth, Elena's cold, striking features were inherited more from her father than her mother, Olga.

"Yes. That boy anchored Elena's unpolished acting. Not only that, but he made her look even better. Through their chemistry, he pulled her into a realm she could never have reached on her own. You could say he helped her break out of her shell as an actress. To be more precise, it felt like he taught her how to properly express the dynamics between a man and a woman. He certainly knows how to handle women. One way or another."

"..."

"He's quite impressive. A good kid. Handsome, too. I should arrange a meeting sometime."

"Wasn't he... Hollywood's greatest degenerate?"

"Hmm?"

"Ah, nothing. Merry Christmas, Olga."

His wife rarely praised young actors, let alone credited them with their beloved daughter's growth. Dmitry gripped his fork tightly, forcing himself to stay calm. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the metal fork seemed to bend slightly under his fingers.

The holiday season always calls for a sweet love story. And when you pair that with science fiction—one of America's most beloved genres—public interest was bound to skyrocket. Audiences flocking to theaters were utterly captivated by the story of Elliot and Noah, drifting between reality and the virtual world. Released in theaters across the United States, Fragments of You showcased high-quality CGI and a tightly woven narrative, but it was the brilliant performances of the two young leads, Sion Lee and Elena Asimov, that truly made the film shine.

Elliot slowly sank deeper into the virtual world. Even after that world was fully constructed, he continued to spend his days there with Noah. They spent most of their time reminiscing about the past—going on picnics, watching movies, or dining at exquisite restaurants. But tragically, they could never move forward into the future. A virtual reality built of machine code was, after all, entirely non-existent.

In Elliot's shattered reality, the fragment known as Noah filled the empty cracks. Like an angel, Noah always smiled at him. She rejoiced over a tiny bouquet of flowers and teared up with emotion while watching fireworks. Yet, as these moments accumulated, Elliot began to feel a subtle, creeping sense of dissonance. And soon... he was once again plagued by the same inexplicable, hollow emptiness as before. As if trying to quench his thirst with saltwater, Elliot became even more obsessively attached to the world created by his own memories. Then, without warning, his connection was cut.

"What... what's going on?" Panicked, Elliot tried to reconnect over and over. But the device remained unresponsive. Elliot immediately dialed Tom's number. His face was a mask of anxiety and desperation, looking every bit like an addict in withdrawal.

"Tom?! What the hell is going on?! I can't connect!"

"...Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's four in the morning. And tomorrow is Monday."

Elliot froze, struck by a wave of profound shock. His wide, trembling eyes were reflected in the dark glass of the living room window. The film used the mirror motif to symbolize his current state—trapped in the liminal space between reality and illusion. In that brief moment, the audience was so utterly gripped by Sion Lee's acting that they forgot to breathe.

Dragged back into the freezing cold of reality, Elliot panicked. In the next scene, he was at the Memory Company, practically begging. But the response he received was cold and unyielding.

"We cannot allow this any longer. You must refrain from connecting for a while and rest."

Having shown an extreme, unhealthy dependence on the memory storage device, Elliot was banned from connecting until the weekend by the supervisor in the white coat. Tom tried to comfort his pale, trembling friend, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Amidst the swirling emotions of the audience, Elliot returned home. Was she the wife in his memories, or was she merely a creation of his memories within the virtual world? Overwhelmed by a desperate, agonizing longing, he climbed up to the attic and pulled out his late wife's belongings, which he had hidden away. And there, his eyes fell upon his wife's diary.

With trembling hands, Elliot opened the journal, only to find entries that completely contradicted his own memories.

He let out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. Looking back, they had fought bitterly. This was the reality. Unable to bear the loneliness as his memories faded, he had simply conjured up an idealized version of her to cling to.

"Haha..." Elliot chuckled weakly, wiping away his tears. Watching him, several members of the audience began to weep as well.

The movie laid bare the "reality" of Elliot and Noah. In truth, they were never the perfect couple depicted in the first half of the film. After dating for a long time, they had constantly bickered, and even after they managed to get married, their relationship only deteriorated. Like the love of any real-world couple, it was a complex web of love and hate. They hated each other just as passionately as they loved each other.

Then, his wife had suddenly passed away from a ruptured cerebral aneurysm... leaving Elliot with an unspeakable, bottomless void. It felt as though all his emotions were crumbling away day by day, like brittle, yellowed paper. Lost in the haze of these memories, Elliot went back to the Memory Company.

"Tom. Just one favor, please."

"No. You're banned from connecting this week."

"I don't need to connect. Just... can you show me how Noah is doing right now?"

"...Dammit."

Those hollow, sunken eyes belonged to a man on the absolute brink of collapse. Bypassing the regulations, Tom pulled up the virtual reality feed on his computer screen, showing Noah active within the world built from Elliot's memories. On the monitor, she was doing what she always did. She woke up in the morning, painted, and ate her meals. She seemed to be talking to someone... but there was no one beside her.

Elliot finally fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "No... that's not her..."

That wasn't Noah. She was merely a puppet created by his own fragmented emotions, fulfilling his desperate desires. Watching the virtual world coldly detach itself from reality, the audience's hearts burned with anxious sorrow. The theater was so silent that, save for the audio from the screen, one could have heard a pin drop. Even those who had bought popcorn had stopped eating, entirely transfixed by the film. As Elliot broke down in agonizing tears and Tom tried to comfort him, many in the audience wept openly.

Yet, in the midst of the weeping crowd, there was one man whose lips stretched into a wide, devilish grin. You've gone and done it again, you brilliant bastard. It was the legendary actor himself, Jack Nicholson, who had had his staff wait in line all night just to secure a ticket for today. A fantastic script, and I certainly chose the right actor. It turned out to be a masterpiece. Heh, my money didn't go to waste.

As the film entered its final act, it began to delicately portray the heartbreaking farewell between two hollow existences. Witnessing the birth of a romance film destined to take the box office by storm during the 1991 Christmas season—a film worthy of carving its name into the glittering history of Hollywood—the man sat alone in his joy amidst a sea of tears.