originally posted at Obnoxi.us, 14.11.2011
I really
don’t think there’s much point in writing this, but it seems somehow wrong to
disappear from life – such as it is – without leaving some kind of message. Message
to whom? Hah! Nobody in this fucked-up world that I can think off anyway; those
who would care have taken the same way as I plan to. Maybe I’ll meet some of
them again. It’s one of my major hopes.
A message
then to a person or persons unknown. Maybe archaeologists from some
unimaginable future … in the unlikely event that humanity manages to survive
the mess it seems to have screwed itself into. Or alien explorers, landing on a
planet showing signs of an extinct civilisation. Or even humans from an
alternate reality; the plethora of virtual alternatives we have been creating
makes everything possible, in digital imagination anyway – for all that that’s
worth.
So then, I
suppose I should try to explain what this is all about. I have finally given up
on RL, as they call it, real life and have opted instead to join the growing
horde of those escaping to VL, virtual life.
It’s a
one-way ticket, you see, for all intents and purposes. Oh yes, if you’ve got
enough money you can buy the special withdraw-after-thirty-days option, but it
you take it, it involves rather nasty withdrawal symptoms and extensive
neurological reconstruction surgery. Even among those who buy it, only about
one in ten thousand actually makes use of it – and many of them ultimately
return to RL if they have the money or suicide it they don’t. That kind of news
spreads so most people don’t bother with the opt-out – it’s a better bet to
invest every cent you can in your VL package.
The biggest
recruiter for VL is RL anyway. What with the low level radioactive poisoning
from the brief but murderous Middle East Holocaust a few years ago, the
increasing spate of natural disasters from a wheeling climate which can’t seem
to decide between global warming and nuclear winter, the lawless chaos in many
areas of the major cities worldwide, the ongoing recession because of declining
growth, the press of illegal immigrants from the poor into the rich world,
etc., etc. … do I really need to go on? A growing number of those who can
afford it are opting out into VL every year; many of them the people RL would
need to put things back together again, or at least keep them on an even keel. Most
have lost any hope that the transnational corporations and financial
institutions, who have the real control over the world, have the slightest clue
as to what they are doing, apart from using complex questionable algorithms to
continually maximise short-term profits. And the crux of the whole thing is
that a continually growing amount of the capital they are working with comes
from funds set up to finance the VLers who have abandoned RL and are only interested
in obtaining the best possible returns to pay for their adventures in dream
worlds.
You see,
you get what you pay for and the VL packages aren’t cheap. Your unconscious
dreaming body has to be cared for – on a basic level, with lots of automation
to be sure – but it still needs to be kept alive. There are no guarantees, of
course, and there’s no money back if you die but Microgoogle™ claim that 78% of
all 65 year olds who enter one of their worlds are still alive at the end of
their contract. Amazapple™ has a much better figure (93%) but their packages
are much more expensive.
When you
have decided to go for VL, you have to make some basic decisions, the most
fundamental one being what you can afford. The corporations offer all sorts of
packages and you really need to compare them and read the small print – in
fact, a whole new service area has grown up to advise clients about the best
package for their particular desires and means. The choices are complex and not
always clear, so that most people feel that the fee they take for this service
is well invested. They’ll also help you to liquidate all your assets, taking
care of the paperwork needed to negotiate with pension funds and life-insurance
companies about lump-sum payments or models for regular payments, etc.
In my case,
Virtual Bliss Consultants™ recommended a short-list of four packages. It didn’t
take me long to exclude the Amazapple™ deal included; it would have given me a
very high-quality experience and first-class care for my body, but the price
meant that I would only have two and a half years in Virtuality before my
contract was ended, I was disconnected and my unconscious body let die. The
Microgoogle™ package I have chosen gives me nearly nine years, partly because
they’ll also pay me for a kidney and my eyes (one kidney is plenty for a
resting body and I won’t need my eyes any more – there’s the added advantage
that their removal makes an easy brain-hardware interface over the optic nerve
possible).
My package
also has some other interesting features. I get a guaranteed eight years, 334
days but, depending on the performance of the investment of my payment, it can
be extended. There’s no way, of course, that I’ll be able to find out about
this when I’ve moved to VL but that
means that I won’t know the moment of
my death there; when the money runs out I’ll simply wink out of existence – no
warning, no pain.
Though, of
course, it may happen before that; if my adventures in VL bring me into a
situation in which I’m killed then that’s it. It’s a feature which “enhances
the verisimilitude” of the experience, as Microgoogle™ puts it. Apparently, a
guarantee of practical invulnerable immortality (even if limited for the
minimum contract period) introduces such a high chaos factor that the
algorithms controlling the VL world you have chosen have problems dealing with
it. Amazapple™ have just offered a new package with a (limited) invulnerability
option but the price means that you have to be very rich to even consider
taking it.
There’s
also a teaser. My package contains connections between the world I have chosen
and many others. There’s no guarantee you will find them and less as to where
they will lead you but Microgoogle™ is playing up this feature in their
advertising with phrases such as “endless adventure in exciting quests for new
worlds.”
I know it’s
a tiny chance, but it opens the possibility that I might even find my son
there. It’s been five years since he went virtual, after his wife and daughter
had been killed in the terrorist thermonuclear incident in Paris . The life-insurance payment for his
wife, plus his considerable assets, meant he was able to buy a twenty five year
contract. So, as far as I know, he’s still in there somewhere.
As far as I
know … The gulf between RL and VL is absolute. When the enabling legislation
was being hammered out between lawyers, lobbyists and lawmakers in the US
Congress and the European Parliament, this was an aspect on which both sides
agreed very quickly. The idea of regular contact between VL and Real Life was
anathema to both sides; an avalanche of complaints and people changing their
minds, the constant destabilisation of the “real” world through news from
thousands of virtual ones, lawsuits and questions of liability, pressure for RL
regulation of all sorts of specific issues in the myriad RL worlds. So the
decision for VL is an irrevocable one (apart from the optional
thirty-day-withdrawal clause I mentioned earlier, something pushed through by
the consumer-rights lobby during the legal negotiations) – a one way ticket to
… wherever you want and whatever you can afford basically.
So next
Tuesday I will be entering Microgoogle™’s GrandeurWorld®
(3.2.01763). It’s a comfortable, fairly secure one, designed around 18th
Century motives, and my role is that of a modestly wealthy, handsome young
dandy with pre-programmed expertise with the rapier. Two thousand other
participants will also enter with me (Amazapple™ make a play for exclusivity by
trumpeting the fact that the maximum number of participants in their worlds is
three hundred, but my counsellor at Virtual Bliss assures me that GrandeurWorld is big and complex enough
to easily accommodate us all and that a larger number of participants can
actually make the experience richer and more interesting). While I feel a
little nervous, I have no regrets about leaving Real Life – as I mentioned at
the beginning of this, I regard it as being irrevocably fucked-up anyway. The
only worry I really have is that things here will go downhill so quickly that
the whole infrastructure supporting the VLers (often called the “undead” in
popular culture) will collapse, but both Microgoogle™ and Amazapple™ claim that
they are prepared for every foreseeable eventuality for at least the next
fifteen years (including a state-guaranteed option for them to employ private
armies if they judge this necessary).
The only
certain thing is death anyway, and I’d rather have mine somewhere else. I must
finish this now, it’s time for me to catch my flight to British Colombia, where
MicroGoogle™ have the facility where my body will be stored – along with around
eight million others. They have ten others worldwide and Amazapple™ has its own
as well. Cynics call it the Necropolis. What do I care? This world is dying
anyway.
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