It was a radiant summer day, July 22, 2050. The sun cast golden rays across the placid lake, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the old oak tree against which I leaned. I was seventy years old, a “brie-year-old” man, as they called it here, but I felt younger than ever. Healthy, energetic, and full of zest for life. A glass of ginger tea in my hand, the warmth spread through my body, just like the contentment that filled my soul.

My morning was a perfect reflection of my ideal existence: a peaceful Tai Chi class, followed by an hour of deep meditation, and then the expression of my soul on canvas, where colors and shapes danced beneath my brush. In the evening, the pleasure of a good book and warm conversations with my wife, who, like me, had experienced her own perfect day, awaited me. We lived in a house that blended seamlessly with nature, with a breathtaking view of the lake, a place of tranquil beauty. How happy I was that my dreams had come true, that all my hard work had paid off. I vividly remembered the skepticism, even the revulsion, when I first announced my ideas. People laughed at me, called me a fantasist. But then, like a seed falling into fertile soil, a small group of like-minded people gathered. Pioneers who dared to look beyond the horizon of their own time. They saw the potential, the seed of a revolution, and with their unique talents, they helped me make it grow. Together, we continued to build our plan, through trial and error, breaking down barriers and overcoming setbacks. Ultimately, our initiative became an inspiration to many, changing the way we viewed the future, and especially, death.

The sun began to set slowly, the sky turning warm shades of orange and purple. As I took the last sip of my tea, my thoughts drifted to the technology that had made all this possible. This paradise, this utopia, I had created. Not in real life, no, this was Yvonta’s simulated world, a digital world I could have created myself. The irony was that I had already died in 2037, and my wife almost ten years later, in 2046. I had worked tirelessly on this simulation for three years, and in 2030, the “Afterlife” service was launched amidst much celebration.

Shanaya, now 33, was the driving force behind the company. I still saw her often, as she logged in daily in VR. She would appear in her avatar, a young, energetic woman with the same sparkling eyes as when she was a little girl, full of the promise of the future. She told me about the latest Afterlife updates, about the new worlds being created, and about the many souls who, like me, were now living their ideal lives in this digital paradise. Sometimes we gathered in one of the virtual public spaces, like the large square in “New Amsterdam,” where avatars of deceased loved ones met and shared the stories of their earthly lives. It was fascinating how technology had managed to simulate such a deep connection, bridging the gap between the physical world and this created reality.

The conversations were always lively, and I still felt like the proud architect of this extraordinary world. New Amsterdam was like New York, but much more beautiful. The buildings were woven into nature, and it was much more modern. You could easily stumble upon a lake, where I was now drinking tea, haha. The atmosphere was difficult to describe; it was very different from what we were used to in 2025. Back then, everything revolved around money and power, and now it was about connection and well-being. It had unleashed a completely different kind of motivation, one focused on creativity, collaboration, and personal growth. Here, the richest souls weren’t those who possessed the most currency, but those who had the most beautiful stories to share, the most inspiring projects to realize, and the deepest connections to make. This was the true wealth I always envisioned.

It was astonishing how such a profound shift in values had occurred, something that seemed almost unthinkable in the “real” world of 2025. As the last rays of sunlight faded and the first stars appeared in the virtual sky, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. It was my wife, her avatar as radiant as ever. “What are you thinking about, my love?” she asked, her voice a melody of tranquility.

I smiled and looked at her, her eyes reflecting the moon now high in the virtual sky. “I was thinking of the past, and our journey, how grateful we can be.” She nodded, her hand took mine, and together we looked at the stars twinkling in the night sky. The silence spoke volumes, filled with peace, the infinite possibilities of life after life. In this digital utopia, where the boundaries of existence have blurred, we cherish not only our dreams, but the true essence of immortality: the survival of love, connection, and the stories we leave behind.