The Eternal Bliss of Siaamaa

by Vahid Zakeri

Translated by M. Moghisi

part 1

I saw her on a dating site. Well... I didn’t exactly see her. Her profile was one of those that hadn’t put up a picture. Her profile was a photo of a lunar eclipse with the caption, “Push away the shadows, and you just might see me!”

I placed my hand on the table’s sensor and sent her a sample of my scent. It was a suggestion from the site, which claimed that smells were the hidden factors of attraction and allure.

She replied a few days later. There were no words to describe her scent. It was a feminine smell, a scent that I liked.

We set up our first meeting. I saw her on the display wall. I wanted to say it seemed like the shadows had been pushed away. I didn’t. Her face matched her scent. Her hair was black and short, with a few strands falling over an eyebrow.

I said, “Your earrings suit you, Siaamaa, especially their color.”

Her smile broadened, and she reached for one of them as if holding a cherry. She said, “I love them.”

We talked about other things. She worked at the Organization of New Energies. I said, “I work at a place that produces synthetic meat. I’m in the quality assurance department.”

She said, “Oh, I’ve tried those. They’re pretty good. But you don’t have fish meat yet, right?”

And I smiled, replying that it would soon be on the market. We discussed our interests. She liked a yogurt and fruit smoothie. The first thing that came to my mind that I liked was ice cream. She was more into meditation, and I liked running on a treadmill. She was interested in human-made books and music. I wasn’t. Honestly, it didn’t matter to me whether the creator was human or a computer. I didn’t say any of these.

I saw her cat around that time. She purred and twirled around. Then she lowered her chest and belly while lifting her rear. Siaamaa laughed, “Robaabeh is expressing her friendship.”

“Does Ms. Robaabeh have a mate yet?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

“An old philosopher once said that time spent with cats is never wasted.”

I didn’t know where or how that sentence came to mind. Someone must have told me. I knew I hadn’t read it. But it had an immediate effect. Siaamaa was enthusiastic about it: “So you like cats, too!”

We arranged our next meeting over coffee. We changed the scenery of our homes to a cozy, dimly lit café. It was Siaamaa’s suggestion. The image of the café’s wooden interior appeared on the walls of our homes. A pleasant aroma filled the air, a mix of coffee, incense, and a fragrance I didn’t recognize. A murmur of conversation surrounded us, and a soft song in a strange language began to play. I saw Siaamaa on the display screen.

She lowered her cup. “Do you like the song?”

I didn’t, but I nodded yes. She continued, “It’s human-made, from a very old time.”

I asked, “Which part of the Organization of New Energies do you work in?”

“We can play your favorite song.” She called the virtual café waiter and requested a computer-generated song.

I laughed, “Was it that obvious that I didn’t like the song?”

“Maybe!”

There was a silence, which she broke: “Do you think the passing of time makes people better?”

I said, “Maybe” and put on a triumphant face.

She didn’t notice. She took another sip of coffee. “I don’t think so, if not worse.”

I was weighing what to say next.

She continued, “But some things from those old times were strange...”

I asked, “Like what?”

She talked about ancient wars, fights between people, and the severing of heads and limbs.

These weren’t my favorite topics. I said, “Those seem more violent than strange.”

“Genes and violence don’t change with time.”

“I’ve heard that if someone desires, they can make violent genes less effective.”

“Nobody does that. Do you know why? Because even now, such violence is necessary for survival.”

I wanted to ask if she was ultimately for or against violence. I didn’t. I wasn’t in the mood for further discussion. She continued, “Imagine. They even kept the severed limbs as a warning to others...”

“How did you get interested in the old times and these subjects?”

“Nothing specific, just... it’s good for people to know these things... By the way, to answer your other question, I work in the Moon Rays department.”

It was getting complicated. I watched her. A lovely blush had spread across her face. I wanted to keep looking at her. She noticed quickly and laughed. I liked her laugh.

Then she started talking about her husband. I hadn’t realized how our conversation had drifted there. She said passionately, “I came to know hatred through that jerk...” I didn’t know how to respond appropriately, “Of course... it’s unfortunate...” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. I looked away from her face.

As we were saying goodbye and just as the scenery of our homes was transitioning out of the café, I said, “Check the purchase portal of your home!”

She held the flower up to the camera and waved it. There was a smile on her face. It was sweet. She blew me a virtual kiss, a first kiss. I said, “I ordered it in a color to match your lipstick and those earrings.” I returned her virtual kiss.

For our next date, we ran together on treadmills. Afterwards, we meditated with ancient music. Finally, we changed the scenery of our homes to a new café, with black and white walls adorned with large paintings. This time, I ordered a yogurt and fruit smoothie, and she ordered ice cream. We picked them up from the purchase portals of our homes and tasted them facing each other.

The next day, we went to a garden and sat together on a bench. In front of us was a pond. Robaabeh was there too, lying at Siaamaa’s feet. A pink flower was attached to one of her ears. I called her. She ignored me.

Siaamaa looked at me with a laugh. She was wearing a white skirt with a navy blue top. I said, “Let me pick a peach for you,” and pointed to the fruit-laden trees surrounding us.

“It’s unlike you not to recognize this,” she said. “It’s not a peach. It’s a charmpeach.”

“Oh, I’ve heard the name, but I haven’t tried it yet. After all, my work is with synthetic meat, not synthetic fruit.”

Siaamaa was silent. I continued, “I’ve ordered it. It will arrive soon for you.”

She stood up. Robaabeh followed her, tail swaying in the air. Siaamaa returned alone, showing me the charmpeach, “Look how red and white it is.” She brushed her hair away from her right ear. The cherry earring gently swayed.

I lowered my gaze and moved my hand close to her white skirt on the display screen. She had placed the charmpeach on her skirt between her legs. She raised her hand as if to slap my wrist, “Not now!” and stood up and left.

I shouted, “Dinner tomorrow night?” She didn’t reply.

She showed up for dinner. This time, the scenery of our homes was set to my liking. It was a dark round table near a log fire. We could feel the warmth and the yellow and orange glow of the flames. I placed a vase of violets on the table. Siaamaa was wearing a dark dress with a white-beaded necklace. She had a white flower tucked in her hair. She smelled wonderful. I wanted to inhale her scent with no pause.

I asked what she wanted to eat. Siaamaa ordered a vegetable dish with mushrooms, lemon juice, and chicken pieces. I ordered grilled fish. I said, “I’ve lost my appetite for synthetic beef, lamb, and chicken. At work, I have to smell and taste them every day!”

We raised our glasses to each other and drank. Siaamaa’s eyes were gleeful and intoxicated. Robaabeh’s meowing could be heard in the background. That night, we sent each other our body data. The body-simulating dolls were quickly prepared. At the same time, we kissed the dolls. I could feel the warmth and softness of Siaamaa’s tongue through the doll’s tongue.

I went further, and we became entwined. I felt her depth through my doll. She was delicate and slender. I let go and then caressed and played with my doll until Siaamaa reached climax. She was loud, but it wasn’t an act. I liked it. I saw Robaabeh pass through the frame. Siaamaa’s eyes followed her. I kissed the doll’s forehead. On the screen, I saw my doll kissing Siaamaa’s forehead. Siaamaa’s eyes returned to me, and she smiled.

The next night, we slept together again, and the night after that, and many other nights. At the end of one of these embraces, after catching her breath, Siaamaa said, “Since we enjoy each other so much, let’s increase our time together.”

“What’s wrong with it now? Isn’t it good?”

In response, she mentioned the Bliss Tool and the Khoshaabad Company. I had vaguely heard some things about it. The Bliss Tool was supposedly a device worn like a crown that induced a pleasant sense in its user. I said, “Why bother? Everything is good now. Why go for something we don’t know or have experience with?”

Siaamaa’s face was lit with a smile, “Don’t be so sensitive and obsessive! You think too much. It’s not good!” She then explained that Khoshaabad Company offered a long list of various pleasurable sensations that could be experienced. Moreover, new pleasurable feelings could be recorded and later replayed with the Bliss Tool. She had heard all this from “Ranjitaa,” her close friend who worked at Khoshaabad Company. I was concerned about the costs, but Siaamaa said Ranjitaa could get us a good discount. Then, to get better acquainted with Khoshaabad Company and its services, Ranjitaa arranged a virtual appointment for us.

We sat in our homes, facing our screens. The Khoshaabad Company guide was just a voice. It started with a now-famous slogan, “Eternalize your bliss!” It was cheesy. Siaamaa and I exchanged a glance. She was silent. The guide welcomed us, and a virtual wooden, ornate door opened. It revealed an endless hallway with an arched ceiling painted in blue and green. We heard the guide’s voice saying the tiles were turquoise and emerald. An unfamiliar but pleasant scent filled the air. The lights grew dimmer and more enchanting.

The guide spoke: “Let me tell you that past generations promised an eternal and everlasting paradise. Now, for the first time, we’ve brought that paradise to earth. Every kind of pleasure is here. Whether bodily or spiritual pleasures. Whatever you imagine. Whatever you have experienced. We even have new kinds of pleasurable experiences, completely unique to us. And of course, outside of here, you won’t have the chance to try them...”

Then a door in the hallway opened. It was full of rectangular boxes with glass walls. The inside of the boxes was obscured, but a thin red light shone from them. The guide pointed to one of the boxes.

Inside, a person lay asleep and unconscious. Only the Bliss Tool crown on their head was visible. The guide said, “It may not need saying, but the identities of the Blissful remain forever hidden.” It took me a moment to realize that they referred to their clients as the Blissful. It wasn’t far from the truth. I asked, “Do we have to come here to use this Bliss Tool?”

“Let me explain that there are two types of Bliss Tools, the BlissHouse model, which is what we have here, and the HomeBliss model. The BlissHouse model is larger and offers a wider and more varied range of pleasures. The continuous duration of enjoyment for the Blissful in the BlissHouse is also much longer than at home, extending up to several weeks. As you can see, to ensure the well-being of the Blissful, all kinds of devices and equipment are provided. Thanks to these provisions, the Blissful can experience weeks of peak physical and spiritual pleasure.”

We glanced again at the Blissful in the box. A thin red light continuously traveled around the crown’s circuit, then went dark. Siaamaa asked, “Is that a heartbeat?”

The guide’s voice responded, “All vital signs and biological indicators are contained within this light and its rhythm. The medical team use this information to monitor the condition of the Blissful.” After a pause, the guide continued, “This Blissful has been experiencing the pinnacle of an orgasm for eight weeks straight. They perceive nothing consciously but profound pleasure.”

I felt a pang of envy. I wasn’t sure if it was due to the extended pleasure the Blissful was experiencing, the abundance of free time they had, or the wealth that paid for it all. Perhaps it was a mix of everything. I tried to keep my expression neutral. Siaamaa asked, “Can they bring themselves out of this state?”

The guide’s voice laughed, “Why would they, when they are at the peak of ecstasy? Of course, the Blissful can choose to have a level of awareness that allows them to perceive things other than pleasure, and they can wake from their blissful state by saying certain words or pressing a button. It goes without saying that this option, by occupying part of their awareness, makes for less pleasure overall. Very few Blissful choose this option. When in the BlissHouse, where health and hygiene are monitored at the highest standards, most Blissful want nothing more than to remain in the peak of pleasure for as long as possible.”

I asked, “What’s the longest possible duration for experiencing bliss?”

“Here in the BlissHouse, twelve weeks. After that, the guest must spend at least three weeks without using the Bliss Tool before being allowed to indulge again. This is mandated by HWO, the Health and Wellness Organization, which Khoshaabad has gained a certificate from.”

Siaamaa asked, “Can someone stay in this state forever?”

The guide’s voice carried a hint of a smile again, “Khoshaabad is researching this. I should mention that for perpetual pleasure, maintaining the body might not even be necessary. The brain’s data is copied, and extraneous parts are deleted, leaving only those associated with pleasure.”

We moved forward. Another Blissful was there, surrounded by white box-like machines. I saw the rise and fall of their chest.

The guide explained, “This one is experiencing pleasure with one of the oldest drugs. Long ago, it was one of the most destructive substances. But here, our guest experiences only joy, with no fear of addiction or physical or mental harm.

“I should add that this experience requires many more devices, which you see around. Their job is to ensure the health and quality of the bliss. Due to the complexity of this pleasure, it is currently only available in the BlissHouse. Let me assure you that here, pleasure is simulated and no harmful substance enters the body.”

Siaamaa asked, “What drug is this person experiencing?” I looked at her, surprised.

The guide said, “Let me check our database.” After a pause, the guide continued, “It was a white powder known in underground markets as Death-Lady.”

Siaamaa was silent for a moment before asking, “One more question. What other kinds of pleasures do you offer here?”

“What kind of pleasure are you looking for?”

“For example... the pleasure of freedom... the feeling of liberation... a sense of revenge...”

“It depends... Many of these feelings might be named differently according to one’s personal preference.”

“Interesting. My husband mentioned these, too...”

I couldn’t understand why I thought she didn’t speak with her husband. I wanted to say if I had such hatred towards someone, I wouldn’t speak to them. I weighed my words and said it after the virtual tour ended. Her voice trembled again, and I couldn’t tell if it was from confusion or disgust or both": “Sometimes... sometimes one has to... If it were up to me... forget about that jerk...”

On the screen, I saw her reddened face. Her eyes were not wet with tears but were defiant and intense. She had never told me the reason for her problems with her husband. My curiosity got the better of me, and I asked. She said they had not been intimate for a long time. Though they lived in the same house, they were emotionally separated. Her husband didn’t show her any sexual interest and always turned to female androids. He mocked her by showing them to her and belittling her, saying, “These are the real deal, not you.” Then he would say, “Well, if you want, go for male androids. I’m not jealous.”

Siaamaa would retort, “Why androids? I’ll find a real man!”

And her husband would smirk, “You’ll repulse even the androids; what real man would want you?!”

Proceed to part 2...