He breathed slowly in, filling his lungs to capacity. Holding his breath until his chest started to tingle, and then hurt, he exhaled slowly. He stretched his arms over his head and stood on his tip-toes. Doing some deep knee bends and touching the floor, he began to overcome the inherent nervousness that always arose when preparing for the ordeal that awaited. He gave his head a quick shake to return him to the present. The slow inspection of the equipment was now solely on his mind, because that equipment would be the only thing between him and death. Environment suit, power cell, VR equipment …all the other paraphernalia that comes with entering a hostile environment. With a slow and deliberate laying on of hands, he checked his suit for any tears, leaks, or bumps. Any irregularity would be reported and this whole thing would be aborted. After a thorough check, he began to pull the thin under-suit on. Stretching the fabric of this second skin to it ’s limits filled him with dread, knowing that he was committed and had to go through the entire process of getting suited up and on with the job. He settled into relative comfort after a few arm circles. He was helped into the bulky, but surprisingly flexible, one-piece suit that would hold the hostile environment he would work in at bay. The power cell went on next. Wrapped around his waist, it would power his suit and hardware, but also allow him maximum movement and comfort. That was important. All the connections that ran the suit and his equipment were made. Snapped and strapped into the suit, power cell in place, connections made, he felt all the environmental controls kick in. Air, heat, cooling; everything he needed to be comfortable and stay alive. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. The VR goggles would go on next, and that always necessitated a little mental preparation. Switching the outside world of the comfortable for the confined world of the artificial was always a small trial. He knew from experience that he would, must, make the adjustment. He just wasn ’t thrilled about it. He slipped them on and plugged the connection cable into his power cell. A quick flash, that always surprised him, indicated that the system was up and running. Within a fraction of a second he was in the artificial world in which he would spend his workday. A quick look around, and then the gloves that would allow him to manipulate this man-made environment were brought online. He gave the small but powerful robot arm at his workstation a quick run through, and then it was time for the helmet. By far the most intimidating of his preparations, was the donning of his helmet. For all the strangeness of the VR system, the malfunction of his helmet could end his life. A few quick breaths and the helmet went quickly over his head. He was now entirely within the confines of the artificial. With assistance, he made his way to his workstation. A small flight of steps led to a plexi-glass cube, filled with a pale-red gelatinous substance. A brief pause to make sure everything was as it should be, and he gave his assistants a thumbs up. With the help of a small winch, he was lowered into the cube. After a second or two of settling, he allowed himself to lie comfortably in a state of total suspension. His body was completely disconnected from the outside world. His senses were cut off, and everything that he was experiencing was totally artificial. He took a few moments of quiet reflection and then he began his assigned tasks. First up was to unpack and catalog a shipment of books for the history collection.
‘Damn! ’he muttered to himself for the thousandth time. He ’d been to the lectures. He ’d read the pamphlets. All that information available and drilled into his mind. Always at risk, he had ignored all the warnings and instructions of his superiors and co-workers. Don ’t pick up more then one book at a time. Use two hands when moving stacks of books. Lift with your legs, not your arms. Library workers are at the top of the list for repetitive motion injuries and carpal tunnel syndrome. When it got bad, you couldn't even sit on a regular chair without pain. Had he listened? No.
‘Damn! ’