Sixty-six year old Douglas Collier was shocked to find that he was walking out of the foothills toward Idaho State Highway 21 somewhere between Idaho City and Boise. In fact, he didn’t expect to exist at all, let alone be on his feet.
“What the hell just happened?” He stumbled across a low, grassy rise near some abandoned fence poles, gazing down at the asphalt pavement just below the hill.
“Are you talking to me?” The voice sounded like a snarky teenage boy, someone you’d find on social media flaunting their progressive values alongside their World of Warcraft online scores. The harness on Doug’s body, concealed under his faded blue jeans, tan, long-sleeved pullover shirt and dark blue jacket glowed a brilliant white and green as the AI spoke each word.
In a momentary burst of anger, he shot back, “Who the hell are you, Robert De Niro?”
“Well, in a pinch, I could also be Michael J. Fox parodying De Niro.”
The cold morning air stung the man’s face and head, short-cropped gray hair and a white and gray beard stubble doing nothing to protect him. His feet slid down gravel for a moment, and then he got his footing back and continued to walk. “I’m not kidding. I’m not supposed to be here, and you’re supposed to be going home. That was the deal, right?”
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