“Welcome
to our weekly Cyberverse orientation! I
am your host, Clarence. I see that you
newbies have already chosen your avatars.”
“We
here in the Cyberverse ‘feel your pain’ regarding what you have endured over
the last couple of years. Now is the
time to forget about your troubles and enter the brave new world that lies before
you!”
“Our
holographic realm offers the ironclad guarantee that all of your dreams will
come true!”
“Remember
at the height of your marriage, where your love made you blind to your
partner’s shortcomings? How would you
like to feel that same way for always?
No more broken hearts here in the Cyberverse!”
“Have
you lost a loved one recently? In the
Cyberverse, Jesus is not the only one that can be resurrected. Your Grandmother can be returned--and with
all of her negative traits having magically disappeared!”
“Whether
you want to be a “Wolf on Wallstreet,” a medical doctor with the power over
life and death, an astronaut, a deep-sea diver, or anything else, you can be
all of these things and more!”
“And
you will never again know failure at anything you do.”
“But
how do you get the money, the fame, the bling, the relationships that you know
that you deserve? It’s so simple, as all
you have to do is to REMAIN HERE IN THE CYBERVERSE! The longer you stay, the stronger you will
become!”
“This
is how you gain the credits needed to purchase the things that enhance your
image before your CV peers! Just look at
my new Rolex. Believe me, the longer you
remain in the game, the more you’ll want to stay. There’s nothing like being paid for doing
something you love!”
“Um,
I’m not feeling very well.”
(Suddenly,
the avatar known as Clarence wavers and then disappears completely from the game. The other avatars at the orientation have
never observed a disappearance in this way).
“What
happened to this guy?” asked the lieutenant.
“I’ve
seen it before,” said the coroner, removing the VR goggles from the body of the
one who called himself Clarence when in the make-believe world.
“Why
does the body look as if he died of malnutrition?” asked the lieutenant.
“As
far as the game goes, it doesn’t take long to acquire the materialism and
notoriety of the rich and famous,” replied the coroner. “But maintaining that status in the
Cyberverse is another story.”
The
lieutenant looked around the place that had all but died of neglect
itself. The sink was full of dishes and water-stained
paper was coming off the walls. Only
pieces of the dirty carpet could be seen amidst the household debris scattered
all around.
“Only
a few hours away from the game and they begin to lose things,” the coroner
continued. Within a few days of being
out of the Cyberverse, they start losing big things, like their mansions and
cars.
“But
none of this is real,” said the lieutenant.
“It
is to them. It’s more real than the
outside world.”
“I’ve
been unable to find any food in the house,” said the lieutenant looking down at
the desiccated body before him.
“They
neglect their most basic needs in order to remain in the game,” said the coroner. “They don’t want to spend any time away from
it or they lose their status amongst their peers.”
(The
lieutenant shook his head sadly, wondering how many others were lost in the game).
“Oh,
and one more thing,” said the coroner shaking him out of his thoughts. “Just
like here on the outside, they are highly susceptible to cultish influences.”
(The
coroner tosses the VR goggles to the lieutenant who puts them on).
“We
are here today to pay our respects to the life of the avatar known as Clarence,”
said another participant in the game.
(Suddenly,
the avatars see the image of Clarence materialize before them).
“Look,
He is risen!” one of the avatars says as they all begin bowing down before him.
(The
lieutenant rips off the goggles in disgust and throws them on the trash heap
surrounding him).
The
coroner laughs. “Instead of the person, some
of these avatars are tied to specific goggles.
That way, as long as they don’t stop breathing, the players can have as
many gods as they want!”
