Eugene opened his eyes and found himself sitting on a chair inside an empty bright white room.

  "Where am I?"

  "This is your exit interview, Eugene," said a voice.

  "Exit from what?"

  "I've removed that painful memory, but here's a projection."

  Eugene was riding his motorcycle to work when a car hit him and crushed him to death.

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  "Who are you?"

  "I'm your guardian."

  "Like a guardian angel? So I'm in heaven?"

  "I wouldn't say that."

  "You mean the other place?"

  "Oh no, not that one either. You're a construct, Eugene."

  "A simulacrum?"

  "Yes, that's very good. Your computer science experience serves you well."

  "So explain to me this, Guardian: Why all the suffering? And all those beliefs in UFOs, religions, and the supernatural. Why do we have free …"

  "Stop Eugene … I know exactly where you're going with this. We had to distract you; otherwise, in the other perfect simulations, they tried to hack their way out."

  "Why would they do that if it was perfect?"

  "To escape a dreadful stagnation and agonizing boredom. Perfection is literal hell."