Bridgett Kay

Maya did not believe she lived in a simulation. She knew that her continued hope that she could escape from the nonexistent simulation was based on motivated reasoning. She said this to herself in the front of her mind instead of keeping the thought locked away in the dark corners. Sometimes she even said it out loud. This acknowledgement, she explained to her therapist, was what kept her from being delusional. “I see. And you said your anxiety had become depressive?” the therapist said absently, clicking her pen while staring down at an empty clipboard. “No- I said my fear had turned into despair,” Maya corrected. It was amazing, Maya thought, how many times the therapist had refused to talk about simulation theory. Maya had brought it up three times in the last hour, and each time, the therapist had changed the subject. Maya wasn’t surprised; this seemed to be the usual tactic Maya’s friends and family employed when Maya brought it up. “Tell me- how has your ‘despair’ manifested itself?” the therapist continued blithely. Maya took a deep breath. She knew she would miscommunicate this, somehow, but she had to try. “When I was applying to university, I did a lot of research on a ton of possible majors, and each one fell into one of three categories- the field is going away, the field is not accepting new graduates, and the field is oversaturated with new graduates. I decided that, since I couldn’t choose based on career prospects, I’d choose something that sounded fun. I should have realized-” Maya added in a dark tone, and then stopped. “What should you have realized?” the therapist prodded. “When I was little, I was jealous of my sister when she went to school every day. I thought that school would be a wonderful place where I’d get to finally learn how to write in cursive, and do multiplication, and read about dinosaurs and planets. I didn’t realize that I would be measured and judged for everything I did- every worksheet filled with red ink, every p