SF Flash Fiction: Virtuals

“Hello Mr. Chasbak,” Vyonray tapped up the volume on her bluetooth. “How are you today?”

“I’m well thanks,” the soft-spoken gentleman was as unenthusiastic as ever today.

“I was just following up with you to see if you had the opportunity to review those listings I forwarded last night?” Vyonray managed to sound chirpy despite having just arrived at work and not having her morning coffee. It was important to catch Mr. Chasbak before his family’s bedtime.

“I did thanks,” Chasbak’s painful cordiality was typical of people who had so little real-life social interactions. “I’m afraid they aren’t quite meeting the specifications I laid out at our initial meeting.”

Vyonray gritted her teeth involuntarily, but remained polite, “I realize that and I’m sorry, it’s just very difficult to find a two-bedroom house these days. Are you certain a three-bedroom wouldn’t better suit your needs? It’s cheaper and this way each of your children could have their own space–”

“My children all ready have plenty of space. We just need somewhere to park our bodies in Meatspace–I mean…” Chasbak stuttered for a moment, trying to find the right word. “I’m sorry, we just don’t want all that room. It’s a burden.”

“I understand Mr. Chasbak,” Vyonray lied. “I’ll keep looking. I’m certain a two-bedroom home under 900 square feet will turn up eventually.”

“Solar-powered…” Chasbak reminded her. “The more energy-independent the better. I make a lot of money and want the best for my family.”

“I understand Mr. Chasbak, and I really do have your best interests in mind. I’ll let you know once the right home comes on the market. You have a great day now. Thanks. Bye,” Vyonray hung up and pursed her lips sourly.

“Any luck?” Araana smiled, setting a fresh cup of coffee on Vyonray’s desk.

“Virtuals,” Vyonray practically spat in reply, and Araana shook her head in sullen understanding.

Vyonray sighed back into her chair to sip at the steaming mug and stare at the photos of mansions covering the far wall. All of them were priced like they were two-bedroom townhouses, and all of them were rotting away in real life while the world had moved online.