You sold the idea of Dev to me—a utopia of endless possibilities—in that dreamy way you talked about things, cherished things. “This is the future of humanity,” you declared, certain of it.

The idea of shedding one’s consciousness for a digital one was unnerving, especially during the early years. The religious were particularly uneasy about it—ironic, since they preached of a paradise free of pain and death.

Dev began with immortalizing the terminally ill and others with nothing left to lose, while their loved ones paid through their noses to afford them paradise—a paradise bought with money.

The turning point came when Dev allowed the first divers to send messages back to loved ones, and everyone sighed collectively in relief—it was real—a tangible heaven. Soon, long queues formed with people selling everything to relocate to Dev.

Africa was the last to embrace Dev, reluctant due to cultural ties and beliefs. Developers’ attempts to monetize culture through curated archives felt like a slap to the face. Suspiciously, no one ever returned to the physical world, raising doubts about the freedom Dev promised.

Despite my skepticism, I saw the longing in your eyes and knew you didn’t belong in this chaotic world. Earth was declining—Guard bots enforced justice while terrorists targeted what remained of society. My love for you outweighed my doubts. I wanted to see you safe, even if it meant going against my beliefs.

I scraped together everything to buy you the best privileges on Dev I could afford. I even turned to illegal sites for modded coupons despite the risks.

You wanted me to come too, but I could only afford one integration. I lied about joining you shortly—a lie I told so convincingly I almost believed it myself. I couldn’t risk you insisting on staying here with me.

At the center, I watched you get integrated, held your hand, and lied—to protect you, I reminded myself—that I’d be in the next pod, that I’d be with you in minutes. I told you I loved you—that wasn’t a lie.

When you left, I confirmed your safe integration and privileges before walking away, replaying our memories over and over. Those memories would keep me strong when things on Earth got tough.

I hope you live a full life in Dev. I won’t contact you again—it would only hold you back. My heart is at peace knowing you are safe in paradise. This knowledge should comfort you. I am where I belong—barefoot on my native soil.

This will be my last note to you, my love. Move on, live freely, and be happy. You deserve that much.

Written by Chisom Ugwuja