“I am a cow.
“I am a cow in a lovely pasture, a green expanse ringed by distant barns.
“In front of me is another cow— Karutz explains that this is a mirror image of my avatar, put there because, given the physics of wearing a helmet while crawling, it’s hard to look down and see my own body as a cow’s. I make an involuntary “Aww!” noise because my cow self is adorable, a pint-sized brown-and-white calf with tiny curved horns and a fat body on spindly legs. I lift my right hoof and my cow double does the same. I trot around a bit, getting the layout of the field, watching as my cow self does, too.”
…
“‘Welcome to the Stanford University cow pasture,’ booms a voice overhead. ‘You are a shorthorn breed of cattle. You are a dual- purpose breed, suitable for both dairy and beef production.’ It is momentarily jarring, being told I am suitable for beef production. But I roll with it, as the voice gives me instructions: Walk over to a feed cart and eat.
…
“‘Please turn to your left until you see the fence where you started,’ says the voice. ‘You have been here for 200 days and reached your target weight. So it is time for you to go to the slaughterhouse’
“I was not expecting this. A wave of sadness and horror hits me with the word ‘slaughterhouse.’ The suddenness of the announcement, the feeling of being trapped, the guilt and responsibility I feel for my cow avatar, who I somehow feel is me, but who I simultaneously feel is younger and more innocent and who is, I should point out, a vegetarian— it’s remarkably heavy for having been in this virtual life only a few minutes.”