“Open to page 112,” says James’s teacher. Not a human teacher, but an online, homeroom robot.

James is part of an online classroom. The classroom is evenly divided up into 30 rectangles. 29 students and one robot teacher.

To teach, the Bot plays the videos while also monitoring each student’s pair of eyes. The Bot is programmed to make sure they are all looking only at their screens. Never looking away.

A chorus of online shuffling follows. Next, the clicking of keys like tiny drums.

James sits. His arms are crossed. Why bother?

The classroom around him is in motion. He feels his class moving all together. All doing as they were told.

“James?” the Bot asks. It has been programmed with a warning tone, like a mother’s.

She is the conductor. The carousel feel of the motion stops. The class shifts. All eyes are now on James’s tiny image.

James feels his face get tight and red again. He wants to say something, to warn these morons. But it will go badly for him, just like last time.

“James, eyes on your screen, with page 112 open,” his Bot-teacher threatens.

James says the thing: “This is bull.”

James’s screen of classmates is replaced by a message.

Bot 249 invites you to a private meeting with the principal. Press “enter” to enter the meeting.

James clicks “decline."

He closes his laptop.

He stands and looks around his bedroom. Laptop, bed, desk, television, cell phone, iPad, gaming center. They all make up his entire world.

The last time he said something, he was punished with extra work and therapy sessions.

He feels that feeling inside him again. Unsettled.

The therapist said he should go run on the treadmill when he feels this way. It's “something ancestral" that he needs to work out.

It feels like he just wants something different.

The sensors in his room register his mood. The screen that poses as a window changes. A calm beach scene pops up to soothe him. So fake.

James slides his virtual reality headset over his eyes. He puts on his VR shirt and gloves. He chooses a mountain stream and breathes.

James touches the virtual stream to “feel” the cool, rushing water. The usual deer goes by at the same time. He sees the same leaves rustle, making the same sound.

James has chosen this river scene before. It's his favorite VR. He's been here hundreds of times. He has memorized the order of events, like someone knows a song or a good book. Yet he returns here, over and over.

A message pops up in his viewer, interrupting him. James clicks on a link to see a hologram of his mom.

“Mom," James says.

Then he sees a headset on her head and a microphone reaching for her mouth. He realizes she is on a conference call for work.

Her hologram has her back to him. She moves to show another hologram of her computer screen. It is full of coworkers in a meeting.

He is seeing holograms of holograms. Tiny rectangles in suits. Are they solving the world’s problems, or creating them?

His mother's hologram gives him a look that means "get back to schoolwork."

He doesn’t.

James clicks another button.

His sister, Lila, is in her room. He sees a hologram of her as she sits on the floor, computer open. Lila and her classmates are all little squares on her screen. She’s nine years old.

James hears her Bot reminding the students, “Keeping your eyes on the screen is the way to the green. If you want to be successful in life, stay inside, stay online, stay out of trouble, and stay safe. No talking. If you have something to say, send it, don’t say it.”

James clicks another link to see his dad in his workshop.

Holograms of devices of all kinds are around him. There are computers, laptops, cell phones, large screens, and small screens filling the room.

His dad is wearing his virtual reality helmet. It's his guide to repairing these items and his blinders to seeing others. His dad works carefully with a computer tool. He's reconnecting connections lost by some malfunction or another.

James logs off.

He grabs his small touchscreen device. He searches.

Why am I like this?

The search returns results in a flash. Images fill the screen. He clicks again. The images are displayed as 3D holograms for him in his room.

Older images are first. His parents are young, smiling, and they are actually in the same room. This must have been before he was born. Before the seventh pandemic.

A series of images pop up next. Pictures from when James was a toddler. A hologram of James appears. He sees himself, but little.

It's a birthday party. His birthday party, with mom and dad as holograms. They are happy. They use the wall delivery system to give him his first touchscreen.

James looks into the image curiously. He reaches into the hologram of himself to touch. His hand feels nothing but air.

Finally, another hologram of James appears. The file lists James at age seven.

His seven-year-old self stands at an open front door. He is staring out of his home, at the street.

His mom is in her area, looking horrified. She makes a series of clicks on her computer. Quickly, the door to the outside shuts.

James remembers doing this many times when he was younger. His parents were both horrified.

The front door was sealed, and then later replaced by a wall. He never went outside.

He wonders, What was I looking for? Why did I stand at that doorway and look out? Why was the door to the outside removed? Because of the pandemic? Because there's no need for a door? Everything a person needs is right here in this home.

A text from his mom interrupts his thoughts.

How’s your day, honey?

James ignores her question.

He can’t remember the last time he was in the same room with his parents or his sister. Has it been years? Ever?

He doesn’t answer his mom. Why bother?

He keeps asking his computer, Why am I like this?

A graph appears with a detailed history of every single one of his past searches.

Every moment of his online life is there. His time spent on each page since age one. The types of searches he’s done. The time spent on each category. The time spent on each person or topic he has ever interacted with.

He notices a pattern in his behavior. He has these feelings, and the computer gives him some answers. He gets back to work.

But he also gets back to wondering about going outside.

Images pop up without him looking, too. It started with computer suggestions for passwords: tree, stream, deer.

Then came screensavers of moving images. Images of peaceful rivers flowing, snow on mountains, bears, and mountain lions. Images led James to curious searches about the outside world.

For many years, James has made detailed searches about the past and how humans were interacting. He researched how people used to see each other in person. People even lived with animals. They lived with dogs, cats, and fish in bowls. He found many stories of humans exploring nature.

Then there was a sudden change in his searches. He started asking questions about school, discipline, ideal human needs, fear of viruses, and disease.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Curiosity. Research. Trouble.

James types a new question.

What will I become?

A new result pops up. Life projections.

Two holograms of James as an adult are shown at the same time. In one, he works in front of a computer. He has a house like the one he lives in with his parents. One wife, two kids, and the whole family living in separate rooms.

They're learning with their eyes down on computers. They're playing on phones and laptops. They're watching televisions or gaming screens.

The second life shows James alone and wandering outside. The path he walks toward is not clear. The background of life is dark and blurry.

It seems meant to be frightening. He suspects it is coded to make him fear this version.

Too bad. James is confused.

He clicks on the path to nowhere. The screen goes black.

He tries to restart the computer, but it’s not necessary. It lights up again with an email coming in from his dad.

It says, We need to talk about this. 

Attached is an email from the school, titled Today’s Incident with James.

James’s computer has a “digital twin” that monitors his health, mood, blood sugar, and potential for disease or illness. Now, it shows his dropping blood sugar level, intense mood, need for exercise, and decreased sleep cycle. It tells him it’s time for food.

A machine in his room makes a swoosh, swoosh, swooshing sound. A large cup drops from a nutrient blending machine next to his exercise area.

A list of ingredients appears in the display window.

For optimal health, today’s calorie requirements and nutrients: spinach, kale, turmeric, ginger, orange, blueberries, tuna, and wheatgrass. Vitamins: D, C, Zinc, B1, B12, fish oil, and E. Medications: ADHD medication, antidepressant, and mild tranquilizer.

The thick, green goo oozes into the cup, filling it to the top. Gross.

James tosses the touchscreen and walks out of his room. He walks through his house. Glass boxes separate each section of their home.

Glass walls show his mom on one side of the large room. She is in her work and sleep space.

Across the home, his dad’s workshop and living space are far from hers.

His parents never even look at James. No one says anything to him.

James walks on. He walks to the place where the door used to be. 

He has to get out.

James grabs a chair and shoves its legs into the wall. He uses the legs to smash an opening.

First, it only makes a small hole. Enough for a strange light to enter his home. It's lovely and soft, pouring in from the sun.

His parents look now, in horror.

James smashes wildly. Each time he makes the hole bigger. He makes a hole big enough for him to crawl through.

His parents are in shock. They don’t move. But they watch as he climbs through headfirst, landing on the soft ground.

James rolls up to stand.

He stands outside of his house, for the very first time.

The light hurts his eyes. He squints into a bright sun shining on an empty street. There are rows filled with more prison homes, just like the one he left.

His phone chirps. It shows a text from his mom.

What have you done?

Then his dad’s text is read to him as he walks.

“James, it’s too dangerous out there," his phone reads out loud. "The sun and air are not filtered! You can’t breathe the air. You’ll get sick, you’ll get skin cancer, and you will be arrested.”

James puts his phone on silent and ignores them.

He walks faster. He looks into more homes. He wants to see people, other people, any people!

The few others he can see are hidden behind tinted windows, in doorless homes. Like people inside cages.

Delivery of food and supplies is all automated. No contact, delivered into chutes on top of homes by drones.

Animals in cages. Is that what he and his family are? This zoo is his neighborhood.

People are like robots. Heads down, eyes and brains lit by screens. They don’t even look outside. No one looks out of the darkened, solar-blocking windows to see him.

James feels sorry for them, and for himself. The neighbors are being programmed. His family is being programmed. They're told by devices what to think, eat, and do.

Programmed to do what?

Is this what’s wrong with him? Why can’t he just do it, too? Why can't he go along, sit, and keep his eyes on the screens like everybody else?

James breaks into a run. He is shocked at how fast and far he can run when he’s not stuck on a treadmill.

He feels like one of the animals he has seen on his computer, running to something or away from something.

Is he predator or prey?

Is he going to something, or running away?

There are large buildings in the distance. There are more rows and rows of homes and work pods.

James always imagined cars, like the ones he saw in historic videos of the country. But there aren’t any cars, or people driving. Only large, self-driving delivery trucks, stopping over and over.

Boxes are sucked out of the truck. They are delivered onto conveyor belts or into chutes at each location. Supplies are unloaded and delivered without anyone ever touching them. It keeps people from leaving their spaces for anything at all.

James sees drones flying above him. There are more drones than birds. 

He fears they are tracking him. He knows they can implant a new electrode to make him forget about wanting to go outside.

James feels his lungs fill, fuller than ever before. All the fresh air feels wonderful to his body.

In the far distance, James sees the tops of trees. Trees are considered a waste of water resources where he lives.

James has caught his breath from the sights and his run. He is ready to run again. He runs toward that opening, and away from the buildings. He comes to the end of a street.

He stands where pavement and concrete end and earth and nature begin. It opens up.

There is a friendly line of trees tightly standing together. Like wooden soldiers that guard a world he thought was off-limits to him.

Until now.

James turns his face to the sky. His brown eyes glow amber, warmed by the sunlight. He smiles.

He soaks in the sunshine. He feels the wind pick up. He hears the leaves rustle. The ground is alive with movement as the dry fall leaves are blown around by the wind.

James pops his flannel shirt's collar to warm his neck. He spins around. He lets himself drop back onto the pile of leaves. Leaves welcome him with the sounds of crunching, crushing, and hugging him into the leaf bed. He lands softly.

The smell of musky, earthy wonderfulness invites him to take a deep breath through his nose.

Fall. This is fall. How can it be that he has never come to this place before?

Bam, bam!

James jumps up, into a crouched position. More sounds come from the woods.

Bam, bam, bam!

Gunshots?

No one has guns. Guns were taken away many years ago, and ammunition is outlawed.

Bam, bam, bam!

It is a gun. He has heard that sound so many times, watching old movies and videos.

James stays low. He uses the bushy, thicker leaves to hide. He hops from one tree trunk or bush to the next, drawing himself toward the sound.

Paying no attention to the way back, he presses forward excitedly. His lungs and legs are happy with the movement and air.

His eyes scan the horizon, looking for something, anything. He squints to bring faraway objects into focus. James's brain is working to make sense of the view. He has never focused his vision that far. He can see so much.

Bushes and trees to hide in begin thinning. With fewer and fewer places to hide, James comes to an opening. He stops at a field of grass.

Across from him is a retreating herd of… something. They are running away, but toward him. He has seen these in books. Not horses, not deer, but what are these?

Elk! Yes, and they are female, because they don’t have antlers. James realizes the elk are running away from the gunshots he is running toward.

Hunters?

The herd stops. One by one, they carefully test the area before entering the clearing. James watches as they settle, seeming to sense safety. They begin to graze.

Silently, James crouches. He watches.

It's fascinating. They seem to be a family, mothers teaching the young to eat and to be watchful.

Last to join them are two magnificent creatures. A pair of bull elk, the males.

They balance a huge tangle of antlers on their heads. Antlers point in many directions, reaching for the sky. Their proud, stomping hooves are trotting. The bulls are more powerful than the videos he remembers from a nature show.

James goes deeper into the woods.

He hears a sound like a bath or a shower running. He walks toward the trickling sound. It’s a river.

James is energized by the lively, moving water. He watches the river braid, un-braid, and then re-braid itself into twists over icy rocks and fallen trees.

How deep is it? he wonders.

He wants to feel it.

Touching the leaves is like a dream. Feeling the way things feel when he touches them with his fingertips is addicting. He wants to touch, smell, taste, hear, and see all that real life has to offer.

He gives in and lets his fingers dip into the cold, rushing water bubbling around him. He wants to feel more. He sticks his shoes, made for indoors only, in the water.

When he reaches out, it’s no hologram. His senses come alive with reality. Cold, wet, moving, real!

He is laughing as his feet float away from his legs. He pulls them back upstream again. He puts his feet on the river bottom to stand.

After a few tries, James gets his balance. He's ready to walk in the water.

He walks against the flow of the water. Upstream, sloppy walking. He's slipping on the rocks, with his toes stinging from the icy water.

He touches rocks, trees, dried leaves, and everything he can get his fingers on.

Up the river, James is startled by the sight of an old man.

He’s got a long pole and he’s throwing it around in the air. The old man’s arm flings the pole, hard. The string coming from loops in the pole whips around in the air. The string dances softly until it lands on the gentle flow of water. 

A bird calls loudly above James, circling and telling on him for hiding.

Without looking up from his fishing spot, the man calls out to James, “Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick?”

James is frozen in his spot.

He has no idea what to do. He is actually very worried about that! He has never, ever touched or talked to another person besides his own parents and sister.

He remembers a medical team coming to his home when his sister was born. He was excited to see other people.

They were dressed in layers of protective gear. They never entered the house. They set up a tent outside where his mom gave birth to his sister. James and his dad waited inside and watched on a monitor. That is the only way he has seen anyone: virtually.

James is not sure what to do. He feels afraid of the man’s breath. He can't see his breath, but he imagines it is full of germs. His breathing could be full of viruses that James has not been vaccinated against.

The man senses James’s fear. He puts down his fishing pole and looks directly at him.

"I’m far enough away, you should be okay. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m not carrying any diseases," the old man says. Grinning, he adds, "They call me Old Jimmy.”

He sloshes through the river in his waterproof boots and overall pants. He walks toward a terrified James.

James stops him. “That’s close enough. What are you doing out here?” he asks.

James is shivering.

Old Jimmy stops. “I could ask you the same thing," he says. "What the heck are you doing out here, kid?”

“I don’t know,” James says.

Old Jimmy pauses for a moment, staring at the frightened boy. The old man walks back up the river. He picks up his fishing pole again.

He shouts back to James, “You get yourself back home. You don’t seem cut out for the outside life.”

James is ashamed. He turns from the old man and walks away from the river. He stops when he can no longer hear the trickling sound the water makes.

James sits and takes several deep breaths. His fear is quickly replaced. He is excited.

He is afraid, but he decides he is going to stay out here. Without a doubt left inside him, he opens his phone.

It is filled with messages. His parents, sister, teachers, therapist, even his classmates are messaging him. He doesn't read any of them.

Instead, he searches “elk,” “fishing,” “how to build a shelter,” and “how to protect yourself against viruses." He reads, and learns that he has everything he needs. He can live out here if he wants to.

Then James writes to his parents. 

He types, There is so much outside. I want you to come to see it.

Mom is writing appears on his screen.

Get back here now. You have to be inside, or you'll die!

James types angrily, I'm not dying. I am more alive than I have ever been. Why do we even live here in Montana if we’re not going to be part of this?

His mom types back, Get back here now!

James types again. No. I want to know why.

Dad is writing appears on his screen. James waits as a few moments pass.

Then he gets an answer from his dad.

Mom’s great-grandfather chose to live here. He was a hunter and fisherman. He loved the outdoors. We stayed here to be away from the viruses. Viruses can flow through vents in housing in bigger cities.

James types again. I don’t see any venting or viruses out here. Please, come see!

His dad tries again, too. It’s dangerous out there, James!

A text from James's mom appears. I see your searches! You were searching elk, nature, and hunting. Hunting is illegal. We need to leave nature alone. It’s separate from us. We are evolving as a species.

James clicks to open a new screen. He clicks “hide.” He opens a private search. It's a feature opened up to him when he turned 13 last month.

He continues to search “build a shelter” and “forage for food."

There's another message from his dad. We were meant to leave all of that behind. We are not safe from viruses out there. We are evolved. Everything you need is right inside our home. We love you.

Then a message from his mom. You can't be alone. You need to come home.

James answers. I need to be outside.

The messages stop.

James feels an emptiness in his stomach. For someone who is never around people, he feels very alone. His parents don't touch him, hug him, eat with him, or talk to him face to face, but they are in the same space.

But they don't ever touch him? Or hug him? Or eat with him? Or talk to him face to face?

He laughs at this thought. "Ha!" he shouts. "I was already alone!"

James gets back to his phone and keeps searching.

He learns about the early native people of the United States. Some of their ways of living in nature are exciting to him.

He learns about hunting with arrows made from nature. Making clothing from nature. Building a home from nature. Even medicines can be found and made from nature. It's not ideal, but it's possible.

An email comes in. It’s an appointment that also appears on his calendar.

Your appointment with Dr. Suraj, Licensed Medical Therapist, is confirmed for tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM.

Looks like his parents made an appointment for him.

James tosses his phone. He doesn’t want to be tracked and he doesn’t need it anymore.

Then, just like James clicked for him or ordered his presence on a computer, the old man appears.

Whoa. Just who he needed to see.

Old Jimmy is several yards away. He is wearing a mask.

“Hey, kid,” Old Jimmy yells.

“Hello,” James says.

“Can I sit?" Old Jimmy asks. "I’ll stay over here, wearing my mask."

James nods. His arms are crossed. His breathing is careful.

He worries that his parents were right. He feels afraid of being around another person. His parents’ warning is repeating in his head.

You will get sick and die.

Old Jimmy sees James pulling away. So the old man sits far away. He honors James’s fear and obvious need for space.

“Name’s Old Jimmy. I was an Army Ranger,” Old Jimmy says. He sits on a downed tree. “Do you even know what that is?"

James shakes his head and says, "No."

"I was in the military. I was one of the last to live and work outside," Old Jimmy says. "Then they closed down access to these places. Our government won't let us be outside, in nature! They started making everyone quarantine and live indoors. I just couldn’t do it. They offered me a desk job. Ha! An online soldier! No way. I left.”

"Half the world's population died in the pandemics of the 20s," James says. He's not sure why he's defending this to the old man.

Old Jimmy pulls out a container full of water. He takes a big drink.

“I think they assume I am dead from viruses,” the old man whispers out of the side of his mouth.

James notices Old Jimmy is wearing tattered clothes. Other parts of his clothes are made from animal skins. He has many cuts and bruises on his hands, arms, and face. But his skin is a golden color and his eyes are bright. He looks healthy.

Old Jimmy goes on. “Wars are fought online now, no need for soldiers. Hackers can take down more people than an infantry can. And you’ve seen the pandemics they can release. They can mess up the water supply, the power, and those viruses. Whew! Nasty!" he says.

"That’s why they don’t want us interacting with each other," he says. "We can get each other sick and spread disease. If you just stay in your house with your own family, everyone’s... What did they call it? Safe? Do you even go in the same room with your own family anymore?”

James shakes his head no.

"You don't hug or sit or eat with your mom?" Old Jimmy asks. "Or dad?"

James shakes his head no again. He says, "We see each other with holograms. It's safer and we can all get more work done."

He wonders why he is defending this again.

“In the old days, kids would sneak out when they wanted to explore or find freedom. In fact, it looked a lot like what you were doing coming outside," Old Jimmy says. "Now, they just get up in the middle of the night and run away on a computer. No supervision. They can visit strange lands, learn, start a bad habit, or find trouble. There’s good and there’s bad out there on the internet. Evil or helpful, you’ll find whatever you’re looking for.”

The old man points to the ground. The phone James tossed away is on the dead leaves.

Old Jimmy laughs and says, “Click wisely.” He laughs harder.

James can feel his face get red. He kicks his phone further away.

“I’m not like that,” James says.

“But I’ll bet your parents are, huh? Your mom? They make it easy. Did they pop one of those idiot boxes in your hand the moment you could hold one?” the old man asks.

James doesn’t answer him. He just listens and watches Old Jimmy. His mouth moving, lungs working, body moving and crunching the leaves. A real live person, in person.

“I’ve even seen parents hold a screen up to a baby to watch," Old Jimmy says. “That was why I had enough and I came out here. A parent wouldn’t just drop a kid off in the middle of a large city and say, 'Here ya go! There’s good and bad out there, just go explore.'"

Old Jimmy shakes his head. "Sure, they kept trying to make blocks and filters for the bad stuff. But you know any kid can get around most of that if they want," he says.

James nods. He smiles as the old man talks.

James knows he must seem awkward and uncomfortable to talk to. But he hasn’t had experience. Part of him wishes he could text with Old Jimmy, or email him. This guy never stops talking.

Old Jimmy says, “Kids grew up and wanted to live through computers. Their brains are part computer now. It's like you can grow the part of your brain you want to. You pick by what you choose to click on.”

“But they are being programmed,” James says quietly. "We all are."

Old Jimmy nods to show he agrees. “Computers merging with brains. You probably have a neural implant in your brain right now, controlling you. It's probably telling you what to think,” he says.

He bends his finger to show James what he means. “Always a finger calling you away from real life. Saying 'follow me, follow me, follow me.'”

Old Jimmy stands. He dusts off his dirty clothing. He turns and starts to walk away.

But first, he says, “Kid, I got hope for you. Somehow, life called you out here.”

James sits as the old man walks away from him. Old Jimmy gets fuzzy.

James's vision hasn't adjusted to outside life. Old Jimmy appears to be getting smaller and smaller. Strange.

Old Jimmy disappears in the distance.