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Anyone Can Whistle

by David Walton

In the center of the room, on a platform, was our Dokja–not the humanoid body she took in VR, but a blue mass of flesh with dry fish-like skin that pulsated as she breathed. She had no definitive shape, no arms or legs or tentacles, or even a face. Her only prominent feature was a taut membrane stretched tightly over an opening at the top of her body. One section of that membrane was covered over with an elaborate breathing apparatus, and the familiar array of VR electrodes were attached to what must have been her central nervous system.

I felt ill just looking at her. But I knew therapy would readjust my feelings.