“And so, the release of the ‘old-net’ archives from the Svalbard media vault fifteen years ago is ultimately the origination point of worldwide cultural interest in twenty-first century media, in spite of outdated modes of consumption. Motion pictures, television broadcasts, music, books, even video games and comic books from this era have become the driving force behind twenty-third century media and entertainment.” Kurt’s professor droned.
His voice was a resonant and pleasant baritone, the perfect background noise for a nap. Plus it was almost noon, plenty of time for those early cups of imitation coffee to wear off. Kurt had the afternoon free, so the struggle to stay awake during this class felt more important than it would have otherwise.
He had stayed up late the previous night, tucked away in his dorm room watching movies instead of studying. Again. Try as he might, the life of higher education seemed to suck the energy out of him and focusing on his subjects had become tedious beyond his ability to tolerate. He just didn’t feel like himself anymore. When he looked in the mirror, he saw the same dark brown eyes under short stiff black hair, the same bronzed skin tone and lithe athleticism. But he couldn’t ever see any purpose. In the midst of his third year, Kurt’s grades had fallen below acceptable levels and landed him on academic probation. So it was with small surprise that he shook out of the light doze that had claimed him at a gentle notification ping.
The phone implanted in between the bones of his left forearm had called his attention to a new email from the Dean’s office requesting his presence at his earliest convenience. Kurt’s stomach twisted as he stood to leave the lecture hall and go face the music.
Another, more shrill alarm sounded from Kurt’s phone an hour later as he left the Dean’s office and began the slow walk to his dorm room for the last time. He turned his wrist towards his face and swiped across the alarm with his other hand, scrolling through the interface to reach the notification and discover what exactly the alarm was for. Phone implants were as common as government-issued identification cards. A pill-sized power pack connected to ultrathin sensor arrays nestled between the major tendons on the inside of the wrist, getting one installed was an outpatient procedure. As the alarm stopped, a plain-text note hovered in the air above his wrist: “Life of Crime with Jimmy”.
“Oops.” He had forgotten entirely. It was an absentee friend promise, to play the premier plug-in game with his childhood buddy. They had been close once, not that long ago, bonding as teenagers over a shared love of classic film and mis-adventures in an immersive fantasy plug-in game called Brescia Online. As happens with friends sometimes, they drifted apart, in this case when Kurt moved a few hours away for college. Now, only two years later, he was holding his expulsion papers and thinking about home.
It was no surprise. His grades had slipped well past the point of saving, even in classes he grasped easily. Capable of remembering scenes from his favorite films by heart, he somehow struggled to focus on or care about his education. Higher education, while required for most tasks not occupied by the mechanized workforce, was not exactly for everyone.
Maybe he could work with dogs or something. Focused on his musings, he almost didn’t notice the additional text appear in the air above his wrist. What looked like a holographically projected box appeared in the air above Kurt’s wrist, only visible to him. The entire process was in the user’s mind, the result of a couple of standard brain augmentation implants. Technology and mankind had formed a blend over the centuries, and 23rd century people thought no more of implanting their tech than previous eras did of carrying it in a pocket.
“You’re late.” Glancing up and to the right caused his built in heads up display to show him the time, and Kurt scowled to note it was exactly one minute past their agreed upon meeting time.
Mildly obsessive about his gaming, Jimmy was born with a rare form of degenerative muscle disease and was rarely seen out of his house. He had worn a series of light braces all through childhood and had a good deal of mobility and autonomy thanks to them. He and Kurt had grown up together, gamed together, and this was the first stretch of time they had really been apart. Sighing to himself, Kurt swiped to the call feature, deciding it was better not to put things off. Jimmy answered immediately.
“Where you at, my man?”
His exuberance made Kurt smile. It was hard to be irritated with Jimmy for long, but he was unable to keep his crestfallen feeling of his voice when he responded. “Hey, Jimmy. I’m sorry.” He held his silence for a moment, trying to think of what to say. As usual, Jimmy beat him to it.
“Aw dang. You gotta bail again? I was looking forward to popping your cherry, man. Had some fun gangster activities all lined up.” He managed to sound disappointed and enthusiastic at the same time. “I also kind of was hoping to ask for your help with something. Something kind of important, actually.”
Kurt felt a swell of guilt wash over him. He changed his mind and went with what felt right. “Naw, I’m just gonna be late as hell. I was busy getting kicked out of school, so I gotta make the drive home before I can play. You down with a later session?” Kurt tried to sound jovial about things, but the stress in his voice was apparent.
“You got kicked out of school?” Jimmy was cautious, but a glimmer of amusement in his voice couldn’t be mistaken. “There’s easier ways to get out of gaming with me, dude.”
Kurt couldn’t help but laugh. He was reminded that there was a solid foundation between the two of them. “Ha-ha! Yeah, not my best scheme, I have to admit.” He paused for a moment. “It’s just grades. I’m too stupid for higher education I guess.”
“Whatever man, grades are arguably the least important part of school anyway. Well, you know what they say about dropouts. Supposed to be much more likely to fall into a Life of Crime!” He spoke with a lively movie trailer announcer voice for the last part.
“Cheese. Pure, stinky cheese. I’ll be home at my folk’s place in like four hours. Wanna hop on around nine tonight?” Kurt had done the math quickly. Traveling from northern Oregon to Seattle, Washington wouldn’t take long. Traffic should still be light, and he would be able to talk with his parents and grab a shower before he was set to meet up with Jimmy.
“Pft, I’m always down, you know that. Just make sure you pick the Downtown Cluster spawn point. Catch you tonight, scrub!” Jimmy ended the call with typical cheery abruptness.
Kurt nodded to himself and headed back to his dorm room to pack, wondering what Jimmy had wanted to ask him. All of the furniture belonged to the school, so packing was a quick chore, and within the hour he was sitting in the back of his loaded car as it merged onto the northbound freeway. The car’s onboard computer already had his home as a waypoint, and Kurt hardly ever felt the need to actually drive, especially on longer trips. Instead, he decided to do a little homework on the game.
After half an hour of browsing forums and watching in-game video clips, Kurt found one of the few interviews Blacklight Industries had given. A company representative answered basic questions posed to him by a professional gamer before the game had actually come out. The date on the video told Kurt it was approximately three years old, slightly older than the game itself.
“So tell me. What exactly is The Life of Crime? Blacklight is famous for being tight lipped, but this is something new entirely. No pre-release screenshots or video, no public beta test, and no promotional material of almost any kind. How is the public supposed to know what they’ll be signing up for if they log into your company’s most recent immersive plug-in?” The professional gamer was seated across from the Blacklight Industries representative, in what appeared to be a corporate office.
“Well, first off let me thank you for having me on your show. Blacklight Industries began as a think tank. The driving goal behind that think tank was simple. How do we best understand the average person’s life, in order to improve society overall? The decision to create the world's most detailed interactive gaming environments was made ten years ago as part of that core mission statement, and here we are now with the upcoming release of something our fans are sure to love.” The company rep sat back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself. “Brescia Online, our current fantasy plug-in, is recording a whopping thirteen million logins per day, and shows no signs of slowing down. However, there is a growing demand for something more challenging, grittier and action-oriented. That’s where The Life of Crime comes in.”
“So our fans can expect something dramatically more challenging than Brescia?” The interviewer said, excitement clear on her face.
“Oh much more so, yes. Our new skill system is entirely passive, which ensures a more natural progression for players, along with a lot of challenges. The Life, as we affectionately refer to it, is a player driven role playing environment set in a snapshot of the early 21st century. In our society today, the concept of criminal behavior is somewhat unusual. Most crime is found online, or in rare occasions, in the implant and body modification sectors. Yet the demand for crime and police film and television is higher than ever, especially those of the 21st century. So what better theme for our second major title?” The Blacklight rep allowed that to sink in.
“So it’s a crime game?” She said simply, blinking.
“Yes. Players will be able to use the game’s cutting edge immersive AI technology to create their own themed factions and gangs, take part in a variety of heists, robberies, and other criminal activities, or simply enjoy this era up close and personal with all the freedom that the weapons and vehicles of the time offer.” The rep seemed pleased with himself.
“Okay, now you’ve piqued my interest with the weapons and vehicles line. Can I rampage around town in my quad jet with a laser rifle melting off my enemies faces?” She appeared eager at the concept.
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“Ha-ha! That does sound like a lot of fun. However, this game is themed tightly around the 21st century. Our technology has a strict limitation system in place to ensure immersion and balance. Our weapons stop just before Metal Storm and rail projection technology, and our vehicles do not go beyond the classic combustion engine variations. Beyond those limitations, I’m afraid I can’t really tell you much more. You’ll need to play the game to learn anything else.” He adjusted his jacket as he leaned forward in the seat and reached out his hand. “Thank you very much for your time today.”
The video finished and Kurt swiped it away, continuing his meager research as the car drove him home. He discovered that each server in the game was a separate city, and that his region’s city was named Illusion. The game also seemed to be split in two, with the giant city/servers being called the immersive side, and a series of loosely organized player vs player modes dubbed the competitive side. He was also pleased to learn that the game had been inspired by some of his own favorite cops and robbers films from the era.
Once home, the conversation with his parents was mercifully short. His mother seemed to shut down at the news, sitting silent as he explained. Kurt’s father was more receptive, and both of them expressed their support for him, although they were clearly disappointed. By the time he finished talking to them and eating a bit of dinner, the sun had gone down, and he was getting close to the time he needed to meet up with Jimmy online. He figured he better get cleaned up for bed now, as it was likely to be a late night.
He thought again about Jimmy’s unasked question. It wasn’t like him to ask for anything, Kurt realized. In all their years of friendship, no matter Jimmy’s struggle, he never asked for help.
A few minutes later Kurt stepped out of the shower and toweled off. He dressed in comfortable loungewear and sat in his personal jack couch. Shaped like a loveseat, it sported a hypoallergenic, sterile storage compartment for the plug that would penetrate part-way into Kurt’s brain. A complex series of sensors and transmitters were laid out in the brain’s many blood vessels and arteries, both sending and receiving data from the user’s mind, and all were connected to the external port and cortex processor. With a sigh, Kurt brushed aside his hair and inserted the prong of the cable into the port located behind his ear. Swiping at the control to jack in on his wrist, he entered the internet.
His sight and hearing shut off in a brief instant of panic-inducing darkness and silence. It lasted less than a second, just long enough for his implants to take over, feeding him the visuals and sounds of the internet. His homepage floated in the air in front of eyes, filled with bookmarks for sites he used regularly.
Using the digital representation of his wrist control, he quickly found the home page for Life of Crime and set up an account. When he got to the payment options, he boggled at the information before him. Two hundred dollars per month, or a single FLEX pack, which cost two hundred and fifty dollars, and claimed it could be sold for in-game cash on a player run market.
Kurt swiped up his contacts list and sent a text to Jimmy: “Hey, I actually can’t afford to play this game. Didn’t realize it’d be so expensive.”
“Oh right, I always forget how much game time costs.” Jimmy replied. “I’ll just send you a pack, I have a bunch spare.”
Kurt blinked at that. “How do you have so many?”
“I use the in-game money to pay for my own game time, buy a bunch extra, and sell them for real money.” Jimmy’s text came through at the same time a FLEX pack showed up in Kurt’s inventory. “That’s actually what I wanted to ask you about. I need help raising money, and this game is my only way to do it. I need a partner for some deep gameplay, cause when I tell you this game is full of riches, I ain’t lying brother.”
Kurt paused, brows furrowed. “It's your heart, isn’t it?”
He could hear Jimmy nod. “I have some time, but yeah. Insurance won’t cover it until I’m too weak to survive the surgery, so I have to raise the funds myself. It’s . . . uh, it's not cheap.”
“How are we going to make that much playing this game?” Kurt asked.
“Log in and I’ll show you, dingdong!” Jimmy laughed.
With a shrug, Kurt swiped the button to enter the immersion side of the game, and the world of screens around him faded out to black. A simple prompt appeared in front of him, asking for a name. Staring at the blinking cursor for a moment, he mentally shrugged and entered his first name. It was rejected, and the suggestion of ‘Mr. Kurtis’ filled itself into the blank. He agreed, moving on to the next question from the program.
He looked through the options, discovering the complex facial and body modeling program offered a massive amount of freedom, while staying true to the ‘human’ model. Making only moderate changes to his appearance seemed the best choice, so Kurt tightened up his musculature and added a couple of inches to his height, before altering his face to be slightly more angular and attractive, with a heavy five-o-clock shadow he couldn’t grow in real life. He didn’t feel unconfident in the way he looked, but a little touch up never hurt. Looking at his character next to a mirror representation of his real face, Kurt nodded appreciatively and pressed the button to accept. He then activated the game time pack Jimmy had given him and logged into the game.
Kurt was seated in a pitch-black room, but he could hear the sounds of a vibrant city nearby, old world cars rumbling past and people shouting or laughing. Footsteps sounded on a stone floor, the clicking of high heels.
A bulb above Kurt lit with an irritating buzz, pouring nauseating light into the room and giving him the chance to look around. He sat on a simple wood and metal folding chair in a beat down warehouse, peeling paint on white walls apparent in the weak, flickering light. He was wearing only a set of clean boxers and an undershirt, both white. Around him were several mannequins, each sporting a distinct set of clothing. A woman wearing a skin-tight red dress walked through the mannequins towards him, hands at her sides. Her long blond curls bouncing, she approached with a smile that set Kurt on edge.
The woman walked around his chair, sliding a hand across his shoulders as she went. He stood, turning to see her approach a steel door with artificial light pooling at its base. She crossed her arms as she turned around to face him.
“Well go on. Pick an outfit.” She pointed towards the various mannequins with a dismissive nod. Frowning, Kurt turned back to the outfits and took a closer look. One mannequin sported a simple navy blue suit with pin-stripes down the legs and sleeves, and a matching fedora hat and scarf. Another wore garish lime green sports attire, with pants that sagged around its posterior and bright white sneakers. Yet another was dressed in purely tactical gear, fitted black pants with pads built into the knees and a matching long-sleeved shirt.
Kurt was distracted by a ping from his wrist. Instinctively, he looked at his phone, and was pleasantly surprised to see it in its usual place at the inside of his wrist. The holographic display expanded to show a text from Jimmy. “Where you at boi?!” Kurt sighed.
Tapping a response, he kept browsing the outfits. “Picking an outfit, be out soon. You nearby?” He looked up with a start, seeing a mannequin wearing only a set of soiled white underwear and a scraped-up hockey mask. Moving aside with a frown, he was drawn to a simpler outfit nearby. A plain black hooded sweatshirt accompanied black jean-style pants, with a pair of black running shoes. As he dressed, his wrist pinged again. “Outfits don’t matter to start, just get out here. This place isn’t exactly safe my man. I’m doing laps around the building you spawn in.”
As Kurt hurried to dress, the woman walked over again, and stood in front of him. She carried a briefcase, which she raised in front of herself, clicking open the lid. Inside the case were two handguns, sitting on a wide cushion of red velvet. Neither gun looked very nice, both covered in scratches from apparent years of hard use. Kurt felt like he vaguely recognized them from movies and television, but nothing specific came to mind. The woman sighed, an exasperated expression on her face. “You have to pick one, honey.”
Shaking his head slowly, Kurt shrugged. “I don’t know anything about guns. I’ve never even seen one in person before.”
She rolled her eyes and gave him the same exasperated expression as before. “Use your phone. And by the way, that’s the last hint you get. I’m sure you didn’t pick the least forgiving game on the market to have your hand held.”
With a quick scowl, Kurt raised his wrist and swiped at the empty air in front of it. ‘Skills/Reputation’, ‘Equipment’, ‘Options’, and ‘Contacts’ were nestled at compass points, four options at the edges with the word ‘Scan’ in the center. He thumbed scan and a holographic display sprang into life, showing a rotating version of the gun, a name and brief history, as well as several statistics in a bar format. He toggled a swipe option at the top labeled ‘simplified’ and was pleased to see it switch to ‘realistic’. The bar statistics switched to script, giving details about the firearm in compressed form.
He scanned over the black metal handgun first, identified as a Beretta M951. He swung to the side and scanned the other choice. It was a revolver with a plastic handle, painted to look like wood, and a skinny-looking barrel, identified as a Colt Pocket Positive. He toggled the ‘simplified’ and ‘realistic’ options a couple of times to see what was different. The bars gave him a vague idea of damage, range, capacity, and rate of fire, while the realistic version simply identified the weapon. The damage stat bar showed the Colt as significantly higher than the Beretta, but it also carried two fewer rounds and had a much slower potential reload speed.
With a shrug, he lifted the Beretta out of the case and hefted it, acting as if he were holding a live serpent. Once he got past the initial mistrust of holding a weapon, he realized it was quite easy to carry and wield. The screen on his phone changed, projecting a three-dimensional holographic rotating display of the firearm with a loot page hovering beneath it.
Beretta M951
Pistol. Sidearm. Weapon drops upon death only if equipped in the Primary/Secondary slot.
Caliber: 9MM
Rate of Fire: Semi-Automatic
Capacity: 8 Round Magazine
“Heavier than I expected.” He aimed with one eye squinted shut at a nearby mannequin and turned to speak over his shoulder. “So what now?”
“Everyone says that.” The woman clicked the case closed and sat in the chair he had recently vacated. She smoothed a wrinkle at the knee of her dress and looked him in the eye. “Now you go out into the world and make it whatever you want it to be. Intentional torture of other players is strictly forbidden, but most other forms of violence are accepted. Sexual activity is also not permitted . . . there are other games for that. You, the players, control this world. I just clean up after you and provide a playground.” She opened her arms and shrugged. “I just need one thing from you.”
Kurt scowled, still holding the handgun on the mannequin. “What?”
She picked at a fingernail briefly, before standing up to face him. “Informed consent. I am required by law to inform you that this portion of the game is being recorded. The world you are about to enter is violent and frequently disturbing. It is built around the theme of the early twenty-first century. Crime was rampant, and police intervention has been scaled to be a part of the game’s core mechanics. It will not properly represent law enforcement of this or any era, and you may not turn to them for help. If at any point you need to log out, you are allowed to do so, but large penalties will apply to all reputations if you do so to avoid conflict or violence. This is a game and should never be mistaken for real life. Do you understand all that I have told you?”
With a clumsy motion, Kurt attempted to spin his handgun. It fumbled weakly around his finger and got stuck. “Uh, sure.” He started to move past her and was surprised when she stepped to block him.
“You need to make me believe you.” Her eyes were hard, boring into him.
He looked at her for a moment, his brow furrowed. Her arms were crossed over her chest, legs were spread wider than her previous stance. She meant to intimidate him.
A swell of irritation rose in his chest at the thought. “No. I don’t.” He tucked the handgun into a holster that had formed at the small of his back and moved past the woman, bumping into her shoulder as he went. Once he reached the door, he stopped with a hand on the bar and looked back. She still had her arms crossed, but now wore a predatory smile.
He snorted in derision and opened the door. “AIs.”