Jane Actually

white-coated technician fiddle with complicated electronic equipment before he said, “I have to warn you that you’ll experience some sensations, both good and bad, but it will last only five seconds. In three, two, one …”
    Sensations, that would be novelty indeed. I haven’t felt anything since …
    Suddenly Jane felt a whirl of emotions and feelings and most unexpectedly a flood of sense memories, the smell of hay, rain, the feel of muslin, the pain of a stinging nettle, the memory of her parents telling her of their remove to Bath, the rustling sound of the pages of the first printed copy of
Sense and Sensibility
she had ever held, the death of her father …
    And then it was over, but not before she uttered a phrase that from the look on her friend’s face had been transmitted through the AfterNet field.
    “Jane!” Melody said. “Where did that come from?”
    She could almost feel the flush that came to her so easily when alive. To cover her embarrassment, she said, “Two of my brothers were sailors,” she said, which hardly excused or explained her words.
    Melody laughed and responded. “And two of them were clergymen!”
    The technician appeared undisturbed by the outburst; obviously he had heard similar exclamations.
    “Do the … must the avatars endure this as well?”
    The technician answered her without taking his eyes off his equipment. “What? Oh, well they did it when they first applied, although the experience isn’t as intense for the living.” Then he turned back to her and opened the metal mesh ball and she escaped.
    “But excuse me, why is all this necessary?” Jane asked. “I did not have to endure all this when I first communicated through an AfterNet terminal.”
    The man sighed and said, “You know they’re supposed to explain this before you come down here for calibration.” He fixed his gaze on Jane, which was either impressive intuition or a stroke of luck, and continued. “An avatar’s terminal is a lot more advanced than a regular terminal and provides more information than just your voice in their ear. It can pick up your emotional state and adjust the speech synthesis to reflect that. It also gives clues to the wearer as to your position, so you don’t have to tell him …”—he looked at his clipboard—”… or her to turn left or walk straight ahead. They’ll follow you around. You can also program the terminal as well. Honestly, they’re supposed to tell you this but they never do. OK, Ms Austen, you’re done here. If you and your friend will just wait outside, someone will be by to take you to the training course.”
    Melody and Jane left the room, both of them feeling a little overwhelmed at the brusque treatment from the technician.
    “I’m sorry Jane, he shouldn’t have treated you like that.”
    “No, no don’t worry Melody. It’s … actually refreshing to be reminded just what I’m about to … the implication of it … I’m sorry, I am not normally so discombobulated. Perhaps it was his mention of a training course. Whatever could that mean?”
    Jane and Melody were soon to find out after a rail-thin, young woman, dressed in black slacks and silk black top, led them down the hallway and through double doors into a large room resembling, in a minimalist sort of way, a television studio. There was a raised platform or stage with three chairs presumably intended for an interviewer and two guests, with very bright lights shining on the stage. There was even a television camera mounted on wheels trained on the stage. They found Mr Pembroke, the saleswoman from the avatar agency whose name Jane could not remember and one of the candidates, the stammerer, Ms Prentiss. Jane also saw two others, a man and woman, standing further back in the shadows.
    “Ms Austen, so good to see you again,” the saleswoman said.
    “Miss Austen says hello, Ms Parker.” Melody said for her friend, “and asks if you would please call her Jane. And she also says hello to you, Alan and Miranda.”
    “Then please call me Sharon,” the saleswoman said, “which you will be able to do more directly in a moment once we … oh, here we are.”
    She stopped as the technician from the calibration room arrived. She nodded to him.
    “Who’s this go on?” he asked abruptly.
    “I think that would be me,” Ms Prentiss said, stepping forward. “Good morning Miss Austen, Ms Kramer.”
    The technician approached Ms Prentiss, but stopped and again with uncanny accuracy