Chapter 33: Rewind (2)
As he sat there trying to calm down, he realized he might have a problem. Was he now going to have flashbacks anytime he tried to enter or leave a gas station convenience store? To give themselves more real-world time, he had stopped continuous memory sync so he could run the simulation at the maximum 10:1 time ratio. So, he could just disable parallel self, thus deleting himself. But then his physical self would be left wondering what happened. He could leave a note on his laptop for his next soul space manifestation, but that felt unsatisfactory. He really didn't like the way he had handled that situation.
Instead of deleting himself, and thus the memory, he could try again. He could go through it without getting shot. Maybe, if he did that, he could learn to handle that type of situation without getting spastic. He got up and put his hand on the simulation sphere. Then he rolled it back to when he had just exited the convenience store and restarted the simulation.
He found himself back in front of the convenience store, serenaded by the sound of growling cruisers. He steeled himself and pre-planed his actions. Again, the cops roared into the parking lot, jumped out of their cruisers, pulled their weapons and began their cacophony of conflicting commands.
With violently trembling hands, he slowly raised his hands over his head, and waved the lottery ticket in his right hand back and forth, then yelled, 'I'M UNARMED. IT'S JUST A LOTTER TICKET."
The confusing mix of commands changed to be dominated by, "DROP THE WEAPON!".
"IT'S JUST A LOTTER TICKET!" he yelled back.
"DROP THE WEAPON!" many angry, stressed voices replied.
Suddenly overcome with anger and, as if getting the ticket a meter closer to them would somehow make it easier for them to see it, he lowered his arm and shook the ticket side to side, screaming, "IT'S JUST A FUCKING LOTTERY-"
A bright flash of light, and he found himself back in his soul space. Seriously! Did his brain just stop working or something? What was that? Why didn't he just drop the fucking ticket? It wasn't like it would break or something. It was like every stressful social situation he'd ever been in, but a million times worse. Only after the whole thing was over would he be able to think of the right response.
Body still shaking from adrenaline, he put his hand on the simulation sphere, rolled it back, and restarted it again.
Back in front of the convenience store, still trembling violently, he focused on what he was going to do. Raise his hands, drop the ticket, keep his mouth shut.
The cops arrived, deployed, and began their verbal barrage. He raised his hands over his head and forced himself to open his right hand. As the ticket fluttered to the ground, the barrage of commands continued, still no consensus on what they wanted him to do.