Dearest love of my life,

I’m writing this note to you with a quill and a bottle of ink, by the light of an oil lamp and a fire burning beside me. I miss running water. I miss microwaves, electricity, and ballpoint pens. I miss the food that can be shipped fresh from around the world before it goes bad, then lasts even longer in a refrigerator. I miss not having sore feet from walking or an even more sore derrière from riding. More than anything, I miss you and the kids.

I keep on wondering how you’re doing after so long apart, and then I remember that it’s only been a few days for you. That is somehow both comforting and discouraging, all at the same time.

I’m a king now. At least in this imaginary world. I struggle more each day to remember that it’s all fake and worry when I argue with myself over whether this reality is any less ‘real’ than yours. It feels like it’s just a different world, not less. I’m making friends with the people around me. I don’t see them as digital consciousnesses, or subroutines of a larger system. To me, they’re people. I know you’ll understand since you always empathized even more than I did with the characters of the VR games we played. From my understanding of the contract and talking with Richard, our lawyer, before coming in here, I believe I’ll be able to take them with me, digitally, when we’re done, along with the simulated environment. I can’t imagine losing the friends I’ve made in the time I’ve been here. They’re pretty great - I bet you’ll love to meet them. Besides, I have big plans for them afterward. If you’d talk to Richard about this, I’d appreciate it.

I’ve made less progress on the technological side of things than I had hoped. Why is it that weapons seem to be the easiest to revolutionize? I guess I’ve had to focus on that if I wanted my town, and now my kingdom, to survive. I’d much rather live in complete peace and just invent, but something tells me that the powers that be wouldn’t find that acceptable.

I have the feeling I’m missing so many things I could have been inventing. I wish I had more time to research in advance, but I’m glad I had some time. And my memory since being thrust into this situation seems to have no limits, which is a considerable advantage here, and I know it will be a significant advantage afterward. Long gone are the days where my memory of what happened is always incorrect, my love. :)

Who am I kidding? You’re always going to be right.

Have I mentioned how much I miss you? I never took you for granted, but I appreciate your companionship so much more now.

I wish I could show you some of this world. I can’t wait to see what autumn looks like. There’s a real beauty to behold when I hike up above the town and look down across the valley, over the unclaimed lands. I guess I can’t call them unclaimed, anymore, since I claim most of them now. I think I’ll be able to convince the last two settlements to join in the next year, even without resorting to violence. I’m going to make my kingdom so great that people will do whatever they can to join the club. And if their town doesn’t join, all their best craftsmen and expert workers will want to move to my kingdom because they can earn so much more and live in comparative luxury.

I’ve waited too long to focus on the printing press, books, and education in general. If there’s anything that will change this world quickly, it’s knowledge — the ability to spread knowledge on a large scale. I’m sure we’ll print a lot of fiction, too - maybe I’ll write a novel in my spare time or something, then publish it back in the real world as well. Do you think that would be a hit?

Now I’m rambling, so I’ll end this here and put the magic paper in the magic box and wait for it to head in your direction. I’ll talk to you again soon - at least soon from your perspective.

Give the kiddos all my love, and have them give you the hugs and kisses that I wish I could.

Yours forever,

Jason Hoffman, King, and Husband Extraordinaire.

P.S. If I’m a king, doesn’t that make you a queen? :) Congratulations, your highness.