Hypothetical History

“You have arrived at your destination,” the small car told me as it slowed in front of the large oval-like building that slightly reminded me of a blue-collar colosseum. The door to my left opened without my assistance and I waved my plastic card before the sensor before stepping out onto the sidewalk with a slight crunch of the small gravel and dirt that had built up while the whole of California waited for its next rain. It was a bit before 8 a.m. and a brisk morning; most were in the Silicon Valley. It wasn’t cold enough to excuse a jacket or sweatshirt, but I was wearing a pressed pair of slacks and a button-up blue shirt. I had some chucks on and my hair was trimmed short, not quite military buzz but short enough I didn’t have to bother with it in the mornings. I watched as the little egg-shaped car revved its small engine and whisked away towards the exit and its next victim. It wasn’t like I believed in a robot uprising or that I didn’t understand the technology, although let’s be honest, technology was growing so fast anyone who said that they were caught up with it were lying.

The reason I was here was because of technology, a new VR program that would allow users to experience “what if” scenarios in history. I adjusted my backpack over my shoulders after putting my wallet back inside and walked towards the front door. It didn’t take long for the robotic assistant to find my appointment and inform me that I was a few minutes late as my meeting was scheduled for 8 exactly. I stood and waited out the last two minutes before the automaton would register me and then was hustled to conference room C on the sixth floor. A band was smacked across my wrist with my name and purpose for my visit. I refrained from making a comment about how this was more like prison than business but by now both were not mutually exclusive, and humor was lost on machines.

I was thankful for the silence as the elevator played no annoying tune or Christmas music, given that December was still a month away. I wasn’t sure why I had volunteered for this, except that I needed the money. I was going to fact check the program for its accurate parts of history. Several other professors and I had volunteered for this job. According to the website, I was going to be one of twelve and I was thankful that I would be sharing a room with academics instead of tech moguls. The elevator was quick to inform me that I had arrived at my floor, and as it seemed all robotics liked to, informed me I was late. Perhaps this is where my obsession for punctuality came from, perhaps it had been my overbearing family and having been left at home on several occasions for not getting out of bed or the shower fast enough. Either way, I almost collided with my guide and, as fate would have it, another drone. It was like a Roomba, from years back, with a carbon frame that made it look like the car that had driven me here. I followed the escort down the long hall, “where are the conference rooms?” We hadn’t seen a door or window for what felt like hours.

“There are only four rooms on this floor all devoted to the display of our new Hypothetical History,” it announced proudly. “We had already begun a few exhibits before your arrival.”

“I do have some questions about that. I was reading on the website, and I was under the impression that it was like the VR we are already using but according to the creators we can,” I paused trying to find the proper word. “Live,” I finally blurted, “in this virtual scenario.”

“Oh yes,” the guide responded.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I stopped following, “also doesn’t that mean even for some small amount of time we are alternating history. Couldn’t that change the present?” I ran my hands through my shoulder-length hair.

“Oh, no, not at all. We have ensured that there is no fluctuation to the time-space continuum. We have spent multiple hours scanning the globe for anomalies when the systems were active and have found none. “The droid kept walking, taking step after heavy step down the hall.

I still had my doubts, “what if it is a gradual thing? What if the fluctuations in the timeline wouldn’t appear until much later from the said event?” I took off my sweater, feeling slightly warm as I peered into the trial rooms where some professors and techs watched as on the screen the subject re-lived the changes to history, if the Americas had been discovered by the Japanese rather than the Europeans. I adjusted the bright red bow tie that seemed more like a noose around my neck. I couldn’t stay and watch for long as the guide kept clunking down the hall.

“We have kept a vigilant watch for any changes and have been doing so for years. We have not found one abnormality.” The robot hovered for a moment before a door, its little thrusters humming as the guide, who appeared as a floating cue ball, motioned me to Conference room C. I adjusted my jeans again and made sure that my running shoes were tied tight before stepping inside with a bright smile.