[Republished] A World Gone Virtual (8 in Science Fiction 3/8/13)

Chapter Two

People are stopping to look.

Users or simulants? I can't tell.

Some people look on with smirks on their faces like it's just a joke, some with pity as though maybe the man is crazy and just ranting, and some with puzzled expressions on their faces.

Those are the ones I worry about right now. What does AJ think?

One woman stops to talk to the man, and Jared slows to a crawl as we draw level with his street corner.

I see now that the man is in his mid-twenties, not far from myself.

"...really believe that?" I hear her say as I roll down my window as inconspicuously as I can.

He glances at her. "Lady, right now, I'm hooked into a body-suit that's connected to a computer and an omni-directional treadmill. The world around us right now is a virtual construct. I've got wires going into my spine and the nerves that are telling my body I'm standing on this hard concrete pavement right now in the hot four o'clock sun. I'm talking to you, but none of this is actually real."

"What's 'CyberSphere'?" the woman asks.

"That is the world we are in now. Virtual reality. Or 'simulated reality' might be a better term, since if I didn't know better, I'd say this was a pretty damn real world, wouldn't you? Isn't it real? Or is it?"

"If the world was simulated by a giant computer or something, wouldn't I know?" she asks, her tone skeptical, challenging.

The line of cars behind us stretches up 60th, but no one is honking or anything, as transfixed by these two as we are; people are getting out of their cars to look, inching closer to hear.

Then we see them. They come, four of them.

Walking fast, determined, they come up behind the man. The two GPA agents in front stop a few paces behind him, and I realize they are preventing him from escaping. Sucks for him.

The two agents behind them fan out to the sides and come around in front of the man. He looks at them in surprise.

"Shit!" is all he says and then he bolts, spinning around and slams right into an agent, falling back and hitting the ground hard. Two of them pull him to his feet, easily as if he were made of paper, and fold his arms behind his back. I hear the click of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest for picketing within city limits without a license," one agent with cropped black hair says in a deep voice.

That's when I notice the sleek black sedan with tinted windows, parked a few feet away.

An agent opens the rear door and they maneuver the man inside. He starts cussing them out as they shut the door. He threatens to disconnect himself, saying they can't stop him from escaping. It's an empty threat, as he can't move to actually disconnect himself, handcuffed as he is.

A female agent with short curly brown hair looks him in the eye.

"You will be disconnected, for this," she says quietly.

He starts screaming at her then, but she slams the door shut, muffling the profanities.

They get in and drive away. I know where they're headed.

His avatar is going to be killed off.

It's a fate worse than death.

. . .

We drop AJ off after getting her the cheese fries, leaving her looking confused and a little hurt by our quick turn-around.

We are now sitting in a red-and-white leather booth in a diner called Moe's. The black-and-white tiled floor gives off that classic diner feel, and the waiters and waitresses all wear pressed white shirts or blouses and crisp black trousers.