Free The Assimilated Cuban's Guide to Quantum Santeria by Carlos Hernández Page A

way, I feel metal rivets, like the ones studding my unitard, embedded in the suit. “Am I supposed to line up the studs on my outfit with the ones in the suit or something?” I yell.
    No answer. Cooper had told me that no one would speak to me once I entered the suit, but I thought I’d try. How am I supposed to figure out what to do if no one tells me?
    I slip my arms into the forelegs and my legs into the hindlegs. I was sure I was going to be too slight to be able to operate this monster, but actually I fit pretty well; it conforms surprisingly snugly to my petite person.
    I thrust my head through the neck. Cooper is there waiting for me, austere and erect, holding aloft the panda helmet, one half in each hand. He looks like Joan of Arc’s squire standing at the ready to help her don her armor. Of course, that makes me Joan of Arc in this conceit, which is kind of how I feel: heroic, but a little looney too.
    If the idea of being fastened into a metal helmet à la The Man inthe Iron Mask sounds claustrophobic to you, let me make it worse. The tongue sleeve makes me feel like I’m being intubated. The nose tubes, that I have to snort like a coke-fiend as Cooper feeds them up each nostril, feel like they’re touching my frontal lobes by the time they’re all the way in.
    Cooper fastens the helmet around my head, screw by screw; slowly my world fades to black. Even after several minutes in the helmet I can’t see a thing. My eyes must have adjusted by now, but there is just no light in here to strike my retinas. It’s vacuum-of-space quiet in here too. All I can do is breathe and wait.
    The panda musk.
    I smell it now (with my human nose). It’s still got a sharp, umami tang, but it’s not as overwhelming as it was before. I take it in breath by breath, and it modulates from being obnoxious, to being interesting, to just being. Soon it’s the new normal.
    They activate the suit. No vision yet, no sound, no cybernetically enhanced smell or taste: just feeling. The suit merges with my body, becomes one with my idea of myself. I am huge now, heavy, and much, much stronger. I can sense a great reserve of strength in my limbs and jaws, just waiting for me to order it around. My head is gigantic. My hands are monstrous paws, and they have panda thumbs, which I know exactly how to use.
    They must be activating the suit in stages, I realize. The first stage was just for me to get a feel for this body, grow accustomed to its power, its gravitas. The second stage is to synchronize the suit with thefield robot I’ll be controlling, so that I begin to operate it from the same position it is in now.
    The suit starts to move. I’m just along for the ride. I try to stop the suit’s movements just to see if I can, strain against the moving limbs. I fail.
    I’m now curled up on the ground. I can feel grass tickling my belly. My head is resting on my arms. It seems that my first job as a bear will be to wake up.
    My ears come online. I hear birdsong and wind, the rustle of bamboo gently swaying like wooden windchimes.
    Now my virtual eyes open, slowly, sleepily. The first thing I see is my nose: white fur, black tip. Beyond it I see my foreleg, where my nose is tucked. The fur feels coarse against my snout.
    I experiment with lifting my head; it is exactly as easy as lifting my human head. I didn’t feel or hear any actuators or servos helping me. It’s all just me. I’m a bear, I’m in a clearing, and I see a bamboo forest before me.
    My stomach itches. Before I know what I am doing, I get up on all fours, then lean back and fall on my well-padded bear-fanny. I don’t have to think about balance; my body knows what to do. And so, still scanning the area, I lazily scratch my belly.
    There is no difference between satisfying a virtual itch and a real one. Both feel wonderful.
    This whole experience feels wonderful. This is amazing. I think I understand now how all-encompassing this virtual reality can be. Isit scratching and