A Science Fiction Short Story
Prince Reginald stepped into the longhouse, watching for any sign of movement. On Detritus Island, attacks could come from anywhere. Thankfully, the place seemed to be empty. He took his hand off his sword. At the far end of the vast room, a cauldron bubbled over a roaring fire. He couldn’t smell anything cooking, but it was probably some kind of stew. The walls were red sandstone carved with a series of battle scenes arranged in a long ribbon. A pixilated Viking warrior battled hordes of ogres, armies of giant ants, herds of fire-breathing jackalopes, and of course, other players.
The hero was BerserkrBoi, the mightiest warrior in all the worlds of Realitease. However, rumors said that the VR Viking wasn’t the skilled gamer he appeared to be. Online gossip said he was a scammer, a cheater, a hacker. Several vids claimed he had only gotten to level ninety with pirated software and stolen passwords. Some even said he worked for the company and had used admin access to give his character the best armor and weapons. Whatever the truth was, he seemed to know everything about the game, from where the treasure chests were hidden to the inner workings of the hardware.
“As much as I hate people not playing fair,” Prince Reginald thought, “I need his help. If anyone can help me leave the real world behind for good, he can.” He took a seat at the long table and waited. Beams of light drifted across the floor. Bored, he took out his enchanted dagger and carved his name in the wood.
At last, the huge Viking entered. His avatar was seven feet tall, not counting the massive pair of minotaur horns on his historically inaccurate helmet. He had a long, braided beard, silver armor, and a glowing battle axe on his back. The axe was Sapphire Frost, a renowned weapon imbued with apocalypse-strength frost magic, the only one of its kind in the entire game world.
“Greetings!” BerserkrBoi bellowed. It sounded like he was using a voice filter. “You must be Prince Reginald. I got your messenger pigeon yesterday. What is this all about?”
Prince Reginald stood, his avatar’s purple cape rippling in the nonexistent wind. “I need out. I’m done with the real world. I want to live inside Realitease, permanently.”
“That’s impossible.” BerserkrBoi laughed. “This isn’t a replacement for real life. That’s why they named it that.”
He frowned, folding his arms. “What do you mean?”
“Realitease! It’s a joke by the developers. They created an alluring fantasy that seems to offer the life of your dreams, but you only get a taste. You can’t actually live it. Your meat body will always pull you back to reality. It’s a big tease, like the girls at a strip club.”
“But I’ve heard of people staying longer. Some people hook themselves up to IV drips with nutrients and fluids, and play for days at a time.”
BerserkrBoi shook his head. “You don’t want to do that. I know it’s hard out there, with the economy collapsing like an abandoned barn, but focus on making your real life better.”
He let out an exhausted laugh. “What life? I babysit the robots at Curb Shop Groceries. For ten hours a day, I never get to talk to anyone. I just reboot the bots when they get buggy, or stop them from wandering into traffic. Outside of Realitease, I haven’t even seen another person in weeks.” He sighed. “Look, I can pay you. I can send you everything I’ve saved up. You can have my RideHitcher pass, too. It’s got six hundred miles left on it. Just tell me how to beat the safety interlocks.”
The Viking glanced out the window at a group of players dressed like pirates walking by. “Alright, fine. Just play safe. And don’t tell anyone where you got the info. I don’t want losers breaking in my home base to search for game secrets.” An inventory satchel appeared on his belt. He reached inside, producing a glowing sheet of paper. The paper folded itself into an airplane and flew over to Kevin’s avatar. “Here are the headset blueprints and some disassembly instructions. I’m sure you can figure out the rest on your own.”
“Thanks. You’ll have the money in ten minutes.” He turned and headed towards the exit.
“Oh, Prince Reginald?”
“Yeah?”
“If you’re going to stay in the game for longer than twelve hours, you might want to pick up some diapers. All the pro gamers do it.”
Prince Reginald couldn’t tell if he was kidding.
Kevin pulled off his headset, looking down at his stomach. He was rapidly approaching middle age. His waist was getting thicker while his hair was getting thinner. Even worse, he always seemed to be sweating. He sighed deeply. Life was so much better as Prince Reginald. “It’s all going to be better now,” he thought. “Once you finish this hack, you never have to be you again.”
The headset was a VoidViewer, a thick, black band that wrapped around the back of the user’s head. It projected the sights and sounds of a virtual reality world directly into your occipital lobe. Temporal lobe? Hippocampus? Some part of your brain, anyway. Starting a game made your scalp tingle, like the pins and needles after your foot had fallen asleep.
The latest version of Realitease was nearly indistinguishable from the real world. The only thing missing was smell. For some reason, every attempt the developers made at creating a simulated scent smelled like a wet dog, so they decided to just not include any in the game.
He picked up his phone. Six messages from Mom, all news articles and internet posts. Another politician had done something awful. It was the same story every day, just with different names. “She never just asks how I’m doing,” he thought. “Maybe she knows what the answer would be, and doesn’t want to hear it. She always was the type to ignore a problem and hope it goes away.” He deleted the messages without reading them.
He opened his banking app and sent his savings off to BerserkrBoi’s account with a whoosh. “I don’t know who thought sound effects would make banking more fun,” he thought, “but they really don’t. Who wants to hear a sad trombone noise when you’re late paying rent?”
He unzipped his computer repair kit and pulled out a miniature screwdriver. Squinting, he removed the ten tiny screws holding the headset together, placing them in the cap of an empty soda bottle for safekeeping. “Don’t mess this up,” he said to himself. “You’re poor now. If you break it, you can’t get a new one.”
His hands sweating, he carefully pried open the headset. Hidden behind a web of wires was a small, yellow object – the safety chip. It constantly monitored the device’s settings and the user’s actions, checking for anything risky or any rules being broken. It was like a tiny, plastic cop. He gently pulled it out and reassembled the headset. Biting his lip, he turned on the power. The green light still came on.
“Alright, it worked! Thank you, Berserkr!” Now he could play forever without the incessant reminders. The safety chip was always reminding players to stay hydrated, to eat, and get some sleep.
If you played too much, it even reminded you that the game wasn’t real. “Hello, player! We’re happy you’re enjoying our game so much, but remember to enjoy real life, too! If you find yourself getting confused about where the game ends and reality begins, send a message to the number below. Your first ten minutes with our AI therapist are free.” Apparently giving people their dream life could make them go crazy. Some people were never happy.
As nice as it was, getting rid of the reminder messages was only a secondary benefit. The real reason to remove the safety chip was to have full control over the game settings. He could turn off the blurring around nude avatars, turn up the blood and gore to horror movie levels, and even fully control the game’s simulation speed. The safety chip limited the speed to 3X, meaning players could experience three hours inside the game for every hour that passed in the real world. However, if he turned it up to the max, he could live an entire virtual lifetime in just a few hours.
He slipped on the headset and returned to Modus, his VR world. Modus was the magical kingdom from every romantic fantasy novel, filled with beautiful elves, mischievous fairies, and man-eating trolls. It was a place where he was a hero, instead of a nothing person at a nothing job in a nothing town. A place where people actually liked him. Simulations of people, anyway. It was a single player game. He was the noble and mighty ruler of a kingdom of AIs. With any luck, after a few months, he would forget that they weren’t real.
He appeared in a green field alongside the cobblestone road to his castle. His avatar was six-foot-four, with blonde hair flowing down his back. Under his purple cape, he had an enchanted fire sword and a satchel with the head of the gorgon he had killed at the end of his last gaming session.
The villagers cheered. “Prince Reginald is back!” In the distance, the twin maidens June and Rune were approaching on their cart, bringing a barrel of sweet summer wine. Their father Everard was sure to prepare a feast to welcome him home from battle. This time, he could eat and drink for as long as he liked, with no worries about getting enough sleep or waking up for work the next day. He was home, here in his forever kingdom.
He raised his sword and smiled, ignoring the smell of burning toast.
