by Arthur Stone
“All right, let me have the dessert…”
“Have you ever played any modern games with full immersion?”
“I tested some flight simulation software a couple of years ago. Or, rather, tried testing it out of curiosity. I suppose that qualifies as gaming.”
“No, that’s nothing like it. I’m talking about modern online games. The kind where thousands, millions even log on to play at the same time, interacting with each other in different ways, fighting battles, cooperating, sometimes even starting families.”
“Sorry, but I haven’t had time for any extracurriculars of late. Been busy as hell trying to earn my first million. I did indulge a bit as a student, though. Two of my friends even dropped out because of video games—they just stopped caring about everything else. I was nowhere near as hardcore—I just dabbled a bit. But I still have no idea why you mentioned them.”
“Ever heard of Second World?”
“Vaguely… I think I’ve seen some ads.”
“I see. What cave have you been living in, anyway? You really have no idea.”
“I spent six months working on a secret project. There was an autonomous intranet, and no one was allowed outside the premises. They couldn’t risk a single byte of information leaking before they filed the results. The result should have been a bunch of patents and proprietary licenses, and all the participants would end up with hefty sums in their bank accounts. We were in a hurry, and worked ourselves into the ground, without any rest. Sorry, but I can’t tell you all the details.”
“You don’t have to. I get it—you were so busy working that you didn’t even follow the news, and you couldn’t follow some news in the first place. Let me give you a brief update, then. While you’ve been busy doing God knows what, the world did not stand still. Online entertainment has always been big business, but you wouldn’t believe the leviathans that emerge from the murkiest depths of the oceans to snatch their own slice of the pie. Second World is a game launched by a transnational corporation. Its initial budget amounted to ninety-eight billion dollars—this almost equals the sum total of the investment in manned flights to Mars. So you can imagine the scale of investment. This is the first game with mass support for full immersion technology that has no critical conflicts with legacy connections. Well, they did run into some problems there recently. The visualization is supposed to have maximum approximation to reality. There are over four hundred million accounts to date. Every account is named and associated with an actual player, so the number of players is factual, and not exaggerated as is often the case with these games.”
“I don’t buy it. I bet most players who got themselves an account never even played. Others may have logged on once or twice, and then ghosted. The actual number should be much lower. Just like it was back in the day—the game site would boast three million players, but you’d never see more than five thousand online.”
“Not in the case of Second World—even if you only have to take my word for it so far. There are, of course, auctioned and abandoned accounts, but there are relatively few of those.”
“John, you said this would be brief, but we’ve already spent a lot of time discussing overhyped video games.”
“This is important, and I’m giving you an overview—as concisely as I can.”
“All right, I’m sorry. Please continue, I’m all ears.”
“Remember what I said about the initial budget of the project?”
“Yup—comparable to the investment in the piloted missions to Mars.”
“Today, Second World can no longer be appraised as a traditional brand.”
“Come again?”
“Can you imagine someone buying New York and Tokyo, and maybe getting Berlin as change?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“Well, let me tell you this: it would be even harder to buy Second World. A year or so after the testing ended, the project became priceless. The original owners have but a small share now—the rest is divided among several nation states. There have been several conflicts already, and there’s a flurry of official protest notes about the actions of gamer communities from different countries. There have even been actual military threats made—all to protect virtual interests.”
“What interests would those be?”
“Jenya, people make money in Second World, and a lot of it. And nothing’s as easy as it used to be in the games of old. A lot of things are hushed up, but whatever information manages to trickle down is enough for those who know.”
“So?”
“They wanted a game, but ended up with a digital Eldorado. Basically, Second World will soon allow humanity to achieve a complete victory over unemployment—and worldwide, no less.”
“Are we still talking about some lousy game?”
“Second World” is no longer a game, let alone a lousy one. It’s a world in and of itself—possibly, a better one than ours.”
“Do you play?”
“Me? No way, the only people who can actually afford to play are those with plenty of money and time on their hands, while everyone else slaves away for their pleasure. And why would I work online? I’m doing quite all right where I am. But I do have to log in sometimes. See, I represent the interests of a number of gaming communities—their interests in this world, that is. In the one we live in. Curiously, they call it the Third, not the First. No, Jenya, you’re going to have to be the one playing. Assuming you’re leaning towards rejecting the other two options: coma or euthanasia.”
“And there I was believing you’d be the last of the two of us to go insane. My mistake. That sucks—I’m in the habit of being right.”
“I get it. Your job hardly leaves room for mistakes.”
“I must have made one, or I wouldn’t have wound up here.”
“You do remember what I told you, yeah? Quite a few things get hushed up.”
“Sure, I do.”
“There is a catch to this full immersion thing. High visualization detail, the sheer size of the world, the content and the intricacy of design have resulted in a number of unexpected effects. Those who choose this way of connecting had better be ready for surprises. The first instances of this surfaced shortly after the launch of Second World. Back then it was a regular gaming project, albeit a hyped one, with hundreds of competitors about to snatch the initiative away, and only lagging behind due to the different levels of financing. Small players were out, but the press was still free to report it any way they chose. Anyway, there was a fire at one of the SW facilities where they rented out full immersion capsules. Some of the players got stuck inside. There were no casualties, but the connection was broken. The upshot is, none of those players came back to their senses. They were taken out of the capsules unconscious and stayed that way—all of them. What followed was just plain weird—their characters remained logged into the game. Some panicked and tried to report their inability to get back to the real world in every way they could. But once their capsules got back online, everything went back to normal. There were but a few of those who got stuck in this way, though. Most managed to get out by themselves, and they were in for quite a shock once they realized they were no longer inside their capsules. Most, but not all of them. So, what do you have to say?”
“Was it just a single occasion?”
“By no means, but they’ve been trying their best to keep a lid on any reports. Moreover, there are rumors—and I, for one, find them plausible—that the so-called “full immersion effect” is guaranteed for every user after several days of uninterrupted gaming. If the capsule is disconnected before that happens, regular players will just wake up. There is another precedent, and this one is particularly interesting. A player whose condition was hardly better than yours got stuck inside the game after the death of his body. The fact of death has been witnessed, and the body has been frozen until the litigation finishes. His character still exists inside the game. The legal problem is as follows: the character insists that his rights are unaffected by the
loss of his body. In other words, he claims his citizen’s rights and all of his property—which is quite ample, by the by. His relatives are most confrontational about refusing to recognize said rights.”
“So you’re offering me an artificial world?”
“I could tell you a lot more, but not like this. We got an account for one of our associates—you can ask him for details once you log on.”
“You are talking like I’ve already made my decision.”
“Jenya, I’ve known you a long time. You’re a fighter—you won’t give it. The third option is like this: we arrange things with your employer. They pay for the equipment required to log you on, as well as your account for a couple of months in advance, and then we set you up for full immersion. The rules don’t permit players to log on for longer than twenty hours, but we can bypass that in your case due to the precedents with the terminally ill—and there have already been two of those. I’ll skip the details, but you’ll have to provide your electronic signature to waive any legal claims in case your body dies. Your assets, the assets of your parents, and the remnants of the company’s obligations will suffice to purchase a functioning account as well as special equipment for getting disabled players online, and to keep your body in a state of artificial coma for ten months. This should be enough for you to find your bearings in the game and a means of earning enough to pay for your account and for your body to be kept on life support.”
“A means of earning real money inside the game? How is that possible?”
“In-game currency is easy to exchange for real currency. Moreover, its exchange rate keeps growing. You might make your million yet!”
“This is nuts…”
“You’re telling me.” The attorney made a long pause. “Once I’m a senile old man, I’ll join you in there, so prepare for a reunion. One more thing, Jenya: we won’t charge you anything. Morrison is good at counting his bills, but he’s also good at remembering those who’ve helped him out of a dire situation, and so am I. Don’t expect any miracles from us, but trust me—Second World is the best anyone has got to offer you. And these conditions are the best, too.”
“I get it, and I’m really grateful for your help. How can we get this thing going, and how soon?”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Logging on. As far as I can see, I hardly have any better chances to keep existing.”
“The players usually have to file an application for an account, which gets verified, and followed by medical tests and payment for the account. The entire procedure takes around three days.”
“Do I have three days?”
John was silent for a while, and only answered once the question was repeated.
“We don’t know. This is precisely why we don’t recommend you to sue your employer. We can’t be certain of winning the suit, but we can be certain of its stretching out into an indefinite amount of time. The fact that you came to your senses is a medical anomaly in itself. This whole clinic is hyped like you wouldn’t believe. I hope no tests will be needed—they ran as many of those as they could already. Morrison himself is on his way to the nearest SW office, and he isn’t someone they’re likely to impede with red tape. We hope that in your case we’ll be able to bypass the formalities altogether, or at least expedite their completion. If we succeed, we’ll get you online before the end of the business day.”
“How many hours will that take?”
“Five or six, I’d say no more than that. Try to stay conscious until that happens. Sorry if I’m slow with some of my answers—I’m arranging the delivery of networking equipment with the doctors. We’ll have to log you on from the clinic—you may not be able to weather the transportation. This will translate into extra expenses, and it won’t be cheap, but that’s the only way.”
“Could someone keep talking to me all the while? I’ll go nuts without any voices.”
“Sure, we’ll take care of that.”
“Is there any chance of someone explaining things to me? Teaching me how to play? After all, I have no idea how to make money there, or how to behave in general.”
“You said you’ve played before, didn’t you?”
“Sure, as a student—the last time must have been around five years ago.”
“What games?”
“WWI Aces, Stalin’s Hawks, and Invasion.
“What were they about? What genre of games?”
“Airplane games. Airplanes fighting other players’ airplanes—something like group air combat simulators.”
“Do you have any experience with role-playing games?”
“Well… I dated this chick once. She got her hands on a nurse’s outfit, and then she—”
“I’m not talking about those. Do you know anything about MMORPGs?”
“The kind where elves fight dwarves?”
“You’re oversimplifying it, but yeah, something of that sort.”
“Nope—there were no elves in the airplanes.”
“I’m beginning to lose hope here…”
“Well, what would be the point of having an elf inside an airplane?”
“None whatsoever, but getting started won’t be easy for you—rest assured of that… Nor do we have any time to train you. Damn! The contract!”
“Say what?”
“You’ll need a profitable contract with a work account, and we definitely won’t be able to get as much done until the evening—it isn’t our specialization. Anyway, once you log into the game, take it easy, don’t do anything precipitous, and wait for us to get back to you with a decent option—tomorrow at the latest, I think.”
“So what’s going to happen to my body and my consciousness in ten months? If I fail to come up with the money, for instance?”
“You won’t fail. You’re smart, and you’ll definitely think of something. Don’t forget about that million, either—or, better still, many millions. If you come into money, you’ll get a chance to grow yourself a body here. Not today, granted, and maybe not in a year, but don’t forget that medical science keeps evolving. They’ll surely think of something, and this something is likely to cost an arm and a leg.”
***
“Dozens of peasant family members were needed to feed a single feudal. The majority of craftsmen also had to practice subsistence agriculture in their fields and vegetable patches apart from their primary occupation. This period is normally known as the Middle Ages, but I would like to give it a different name: the Peasant Epoch.
It was superseded by the Worker Epoch. Draft animal breeds came into existence, and superior tools were invented, to be followed by mechanization. All of this enhanced the productivity of peasant labor, which made it possible for the proletariat to emerge as a class. Our society became industrialized.
However, we kept evolving. Enhanced labor productivity also affected the industry, and we eventually entered the modern age, where a single peasant can feed hundreds and even thousands. Not unassisted, obviously—different industries produce machinery, tools, pesticides and herbicides for this peasant, while agricultural science breeds new cultivars, including those with modified genetics, as well as highly-productive varieties of cloned cattle and state-of-the-art methods for protecting the crops from unfavorable environmental factors.
So what about the workers? Let me give you a small example. Each one of you probably has a car. Every car has a transmission. Up to seventy percent of main transmission elements in the world are made at a single factory that employs seventy-six people. Only twenty-eight of them are actual workers; the rest work in sales and administration.
So what do we have? We have incredible productivity in agriculture and industry. Only a fraction of the labor pool is employed there. What about the rest? There are all the activities that are not associated with production: the service industry, trade, and so on. We need to invent new professions and unnecessary jobs in order to provide some symbolic employment to people so that they would not join the welfare crowd. And yet th
is isn’t enough—a large number of those who could be useful are incapable of self-actualization since there simply aren’t enough jobs. They aren’t any worse than the others, but there’s just too many of them. The situation gets worse year after year. We are transforming into a society consisting of a handful of worker bees and a swarm of drones. This leads to social distortion and amplifies the formerly insignificant controversies, leading to social strife and a rise in crime rate.
What could we do to change this? There appears to be no way out—our world has a limited territory, and its resources are far from inexhaustible. What we have to date does not allow a breakthrough that would result in each and every one of us fully realizing our potential. Humanity has built several moon bases, and a piloted Jupiter moon exploration project has been launched, but you have to admit that none of it is quite what we need, even though it does widen our range of options.
We need new spaces and radically new abilities available to all right here and right now. And we have found them. The virtual environment is a colossal resource, and each one of us can share in the profits. All we need is to create conditions for it to be used wisely.
So we have created these conditions. A year has gone by, and the mechanism has proved itself viable. This mechanism redistributes the funds from the rich to the poor—from those who can afford it to everybody else—from private actors to the government with its large-scale and extremely costly programs. The apparent inequality within our new virtual society notwithstanding, it is absolutely just, and the differences will become less pronounced in the long-term perspective.”
Excerpts from the speech made by Aaron Gray, the founding director of the Second World Corporation’s USA/Canada Sector, at the UN General Assembly hall.
Chapter 2
Light. We’re so accustomed to it that it’s perfectly terrifying to cease to be able to perceive it, even for a few measly hours which nonetheless manage to stretch into a small eternity. He had no eyes and no visual cortex, meaning the visual nerves had no final electric impulse transmission destination, but still he shut his eyes reflectively once the darkness became replaced by bright light.
