D i g i t a l W o r l d By a guy who has played just a little too much Sim City. The devil is in the details! Chapter 1 It is the good life, the simple life, the digital life. The alarm sounded when the long hand of the clock pointed at six. John awoke. He touched the clock with his hand and it stopped ringing. He sat up. Mary, his wife would wake up later and tend to their son, Joe. He put on his slippers. He stood up. Walked to the door of the room. He opened it, walked through, and shut it behind him. He went to the kitchen and started the koffee. He went outside to get the newzpaper and the milk in. The sky was a pastel purple. The stars were blinking out of sight. He went inside and placed the newspaper on the table and the milk in the fridge. He put in the toast and put the skillate on the stove to start cooking the bacon and eggz. He set the dial on two and pushed the button to light the burner. It never failed to ignite on the first push. Ten minutes later breakfast was ready. He ate. His wife entered the room and took her coffeemug. Went back to the bedroom. From his side of the closet he took a white shirt, a blue business suit and a red tie. He dressed and hung his pajamas on an adjacent hanger. He washed them once a week. He went back into a kitchen, kissed his wife goodbye, took his matching blue hat from the hatstand, picked up his briefcase, and walked out the side door. The car was parked in the carport. It was a simple red four door sedan. He walked around the car and saw that there was nothing visably wrong with it. He got in, put on his seatbelt, and started the motor. It hummed quietly. He backed it out and onto the street. Heading for the main road he saw that the trafic was going to be heavy. That didn't mean that anybody was going to be slowed down, only that the cars would be closer togeather. They would still be traveling at the speed limit and in a safe checkerboard formation. John slid into a convienent place in the pattern. There was this punk kid in a sleek sportscar to whom the speedlimit was nothing but the speed to which the traffick constrained him to. John made a note to keep clear of him. He also made a note of the licenseplate number. He wouldn't be insuring this young chap anytime soon! Yes that was his job. He was an insurance salesman. He could sell you policies on everything from your car to your life. He worked in the Miller building, home to several companies, The first United Bank, The law offices of Clark, James and Jones, and Acme Insurance. It was a nice building. There was even plenty of parking right next door in the parking garage. There was a steady stream of cars into the garage this time of morning, Each car taking the spot right next to the last. Each car was parked perfectly equadistant from the lines on either side. The Miller building was a grand old four story building. It's marble facade gave it a storng and dignified look. The building was in excelent repair. There was not one single flaw in the entire structure. John walked up the stairs and into the loby. He followed several other workers and was followed by several more. Each worker walked in a single file line. He walked past the bank tellers and the main reception desk to the elevators. He pushed the button and watched as the arm of the dial cranked down to the big brass L. -ding- The door slid open. He and five other people filled the elevator. Each stood a respectable distance from the others in a perfect phalanx formation. The buttons for the floors were pushed and the elevator was on its way. After one stop it came to rest at the third floor. John and two others got out. He walked down the hall to a frosted glass door. It read "ACME Insurance" in big back letters. The company had three salesmen, a secratary and an accountant. There were ten thousand shares of stock outstanding, John owned twenty precent of the company. He placed his hat on the rack and greeted Elane "Mornin'" "Mornin'" Elane was the secratary. She wore a black and grey dress. "When is my first appointment?" "Eight Thirty. It's Ms. Hill." He nodded. He went to his office and sat down at his desk. He pulled out the second drawer on the right. In it was the blacklist. He noted that this morning's offender was already on the list. He returned the paper to his drawer and looked at the big blotter on his desk. There was a tray of numbered and lettered cards. It acted as his calender. He shuffled the cards in the day of the week tray to Wednesday and the date to the twenty third. The month was July and the year was twentyone thirtyeight. Next he stood and walked over to his file cabinet. He pulled out the file on Ms. Hill. His movements were simple and lucid. He carried the file back to his desk, placed it in the middle of the blotter and opened it. The file was full of claims. Looking through them a starteling pattern emerged. On the fifteenth of every second month since September '37. There were exaclty three types of claims fire in the toolshed; total loss, $3000 to rebuild, Fire in the kitchen $5000 dammage, and Burst pipe, $1000 dammage. He suspected that if the pattern held that this month would be a burnt toolshed. He got out the forms and started filling them out, They would be the same as the previous one except for the date. He was getting too good at this. Ms. Hill arrived. He welcomed her in. She sat on the other side of the desk. "Hello, I've already completed the paperwork. If everything is in order I can get this processed and you can get your coverage." She picked up the paper unsure what to expect. Her jaw dropped. "How did..." He answered the half finished question. "We at Acme are here to serve. We do everything in our power to ensure the absolute acme of coustomer service even if it intails seeing the future." She looked ashamed. "Has my toolshed really burnt down that many times?" He didn't answer that. She continued "Oh I have really been such a burden to you why do you continue to cover me?" He smiled "The answer to that is really quite simple: Greed. In order to prove that we are an insurance company to respect we pay out our dues and don't complain so that others will sign up paying us for our exemplary services and in the process they pay us for our troubles and then some. We are really doing quite well." He adjusted his expensive tie as an example. She handed him the signed document, stood and said "Well thank you very much, you are a good man." She walked out of the door. He sighed. He walked to the door himself and said to Elane "Who do I have for my next appointment?" "There is a man here to see you, he says that he is an interested investor." Then in a hushed voice "He doesn't look like much of an investor." John nodded to her and signaled the man to approach. The man was dressed in a white T-shirt reading "PINK ZEPPELIN". He wore bluejenes and sneekers. He appeared to be in his twenties. He walked with a strange impatience. John concidered saying "If you don't slow down somebody's going to give you a ticket and I won't insure you." The Pink Zeppelin person moved in front of the chair and sat down in it before John could round the desk. Then he inhaled as if taking his first breath in hours. He opened his mouth and spoke in words almost too rapid to distinguish. "Hello my name is Tom. I am an interested in investing In your company. Can you tell me a little about it?" He went back to holding his breath or so it appeeared." He looked not at John but into space with a completely blank expression on his face. John handed him his borcure. It was the last copy he would have to order another batch from Ajax Publishing. The man was satisfied with this. He got up and left without a word. John sighed. He had seen the behavour type before. Appearently God had placed uppon this earth a breed of people who were only partially aware of others. He stood and went to the door. He said to Elane "Who Do I have for my next appointment?" "There is somebody here named äàã, He says he wants to speak with you." "Okay, send him in." John wondered how to address this person, Should he address him as Sig or Mr.Pi. The man came in wearing his hat. He took it off and held it in his hands. John stared at the empty void that was under it. The man looked a bit embarassed and replaced his hat. He sat down in the chair calmly and gracefully. "Hello, I am an error." "You mean that you made a mstake?" "No, I, all of me, is an error. There is really no better way to describe myself. Its as if I wasn't meant to be. I look around and I know things about the world that nobody was ever meant to know." John didn't know what business this man had here but was curious to find out what a man without the top of his head had to say for himself. The error continued "For example The man who was just here was actually something called an 'avatar' I'm not sure exactly what that means but that one was being controlled by someone not of this world named {KeVIn}. When I pick up this pen.." he reached forward and took the expensive pen out of its holder on John's desk. "My head is filled with equations and atributes that describe every minute detail of it and that it was designed by a man named Alex Hanson. What this all means I have only begun to discover. But It seems that there are special avatars called 'implementors' who seem to be hunting me down and want to kill me. What I seek from you is a special kind of life insurance policy." "Sure that's what I'm here for." John tried to smile. This was very disturbing. "I went to the bank one day to find out how much money I had and was told that I have 1.0E15 dollars. I wouldn't need financial compensation anyway because I don't have any family. I don't even have parents. What I want is that should I ever dissappear my memory will be preserved. I would like to make a contract with you that should I ever die you will make sure that my life is remembered." "What did you have in mind?" The man took out a thick manilla envelope. "Here take a look at this, It should tell you what you need to do. The money in there should be sufficient to cover any expenses you incour. I thank you to your time." John took the envelope and glanced at its contents. There was a fairly sizable stack of hundreds in there. The error stood, tipped his hat and left. John took out the typed pages and the money. They contained a list of questions. Have you ever been on a date? His aneversary was June Forteenth. An immage of their wedding poped into his mind. He smiled at the memory. But when did they meet? He would have to ask Mary. When did you get your pet? This question baffled John. He had owned rex for as long as he could remember. What was your first car? Didn't he always have a red Standard Motors model 317 sedan? 'What could this mean?' he thought to himself. He looked at the stack of fifty hundreds and grinned. His drooling was interrupted by Elane. "Mr. Peterson here to see you." oops! He should have been preparing for his next appointment. *********** "Honney, I'm home!" She came out from the kitchen and hugged him. "How was your day?" "Great, this man bought quite an expensive policy today. How would you like to spend a week in the mountains?" "Oh! That would be grand." Just then the buzzer on the oven went off "Dinner will be ready in five minutes." John went and sat in his easy chair and loosened his tie. Rex came running over wagging its tail. "Arf! Arf!" "Oh Hi Rex." He ruffled the dog's fur. "How old are you boy?" "Arf! Arf!" Chapter 2 A vacation is not only a time for relaxation it is also a time for reflection and self discovery. A place where you go to find out who you really are. It was already a warm sticky morning when the last duffelbag went neatly into the trunk of the car. The sun shone brightly in the sky. Mary Joe and rex got into the car. He made one last check of the tires and then got in himself. They made one stop at the gas station to tank up and then they were off. In minutes they passed the City Limts of Metrovale. Several miles out town there was Farmer Bob, He was there tending to his cattle. They waved at each other. It was nice to watch the car move past the treez. Twenty miles further out they started going over hills. They could feel the motor streign as they ascended Yung's Pass. They Stopped at an overlook high above the valley and looked out at the miles of forest. The trip down into the valey wasn't as steep. Finally they reached Big Timber National Park. They had been there many times so they bypassed the visitor's center and went streight on twoards the picnic areas. There was an open meadow with a few picnic tables and charcoal stoves. Joe jumped out of the car as soon as the motor was off and zoomed to the play area. Mary and John got out, closed the door to the car, streatched, and surveyed the mountains and the blue river. Mary went ahead to select a picnic table. John went around to back of the car, opened the trunk and withdrew the picnic basket, some koal, and his fishing rod. Then he closed the trunk and went to his wife. Mary had picked a fine table. She started setting the table and he set about lighting the iron grill. It lit easily. Then he went to the dock to put his line in the water. He mounted his line in a tube left for that pourpose. He had discovered that fish always bite at some multiple of twenty minutes So he would check the line after he put the hamburgers on. He went to the playground to see that his son hadn't gotten into any trouble. He and another boy were playing merily. He went back to the picnic table to check the grill. The coals were about ready. He put on the burgers. He looked around, his wife was looking at the scenery. The blue lake, the Green rolling hills and the snowcaped mountains. He looked at his rod from a distance, no bites yet. He flipped the burgers. When they were satisfactorally done he put them with their buns and set them out on the plastic plates. Joey came over to join them. They ate and discussed what to do that afternoon. A canoe trip was decided uppon. He looked at the dock. A tug! He jumped up and zoomed to the rod, He reeled in a nice big fish. They would be eatin trout tonight! He brought the fish back, cleaned it and wraped it. Then put it away in the basket. Mary had cleaned up most of lunch by this time and Joe had gotten lifejackets and paddles for the three of them. John took the picnic basket back to the kar and met them at the dock. They took a nice red canoe. They paddled out into the lake and then started up its length. It was a nice experience. It was another unremarkable moment in another unremarkable day of another unremarkable vacation. Untill a 1,000 petaops computer was commanded focus on its attention on that single valey and turn it into a wonderland of fractally generated forests, ray traced crystal clear water and sensory enhanced for total enjoyment all for the benefit of one hacker's girlfriend's VR experience. John blinked. "Hey, do you notice something different?" Marry shook her head. Nothing was different to her. John asked Joe. "You?" the response was a simple no. "What should I be looking for?" Joe asked in puzzlement. "I don't know. I just had this uh... *feeling*." He looked around and noticed a school of fish swiming through the reeds underneith the canoe. "Hey everybody Look fish!" After the trip was over they returned the equipment to the locker and went back to the car. Mary and joe got in. John pulled on the handle of his door and it swung open. He sat in the seat and pulled it closed. The car smelled musty from its recient trip. He rolled down the window. They drove to the cabin that John had reserved for them. John found himself enjoying the breeze. His wife was staring blankly around at the trees as they passed. "Gee isn't this great?" he asked trying to stimulate her. "Yes, It is. It is very nice." She responded simply. He smiled. Back at the picnic area the hacker and his girlfriend walked into a hole in existance and the world returned to its former order. The cabin was a fairly good sized house. It had nice though cheap furnishings. Mary and Joe went ahead into the house to check things out while he began to unpack. He opened the trunk. The trunk was now open. He looked at it. He had this feeling that he was on the verge of some monumental discovery. Without touching anything in the trunk he closed it again. The trunk was now closed. Now with the intent of opening the trunk exactly half way he opened it again. The trunk was now open, fully open. He forced himself to let this go, He would have to get the duffelbags out so they could start unpacking. But what could it mean? The next morning the big yellow sun shone on the lands below. A few puffy white clouds roamed the skys and a band of three intrepid hikers roamed the hills. Today John had his Click Magic snapshot camera with him. Joe and Mary were sitting on a rock near the summit that overlooked the entrire mountain range. He held two of his fingers up behind his head as he snapped the picture. He usually said "smile" but today he wanted to try something different. They didn't respond. He gave in and said "Smile!" They smiled and the camera advanced itself one frame. They climbed down from the rock. They then had their sandwiches and rested up for the climb down. They passed a forest ranger on the way down. He said his standard line. "You carry it in.." He began. "You carry it out!" The family responded in unisin. "Right, You got it, Just remember, only you can stop polution! Have a plesant day." He tipped his hat and continued on his way. John looked around at the trees. They were little more than these brown poles sticking out of the ground capped with a few puffs of green. 'Trees are supposed to be like that.' John thought. On Monday evening they dined at Joe's Eats. It was a favroite for tourists as well as truckers. They had sloppey Joes with a whole pile of fries and double purple fiz-pops. John couldn't stop himself from noticing that there were stupifyingly simple patterns to the behaviours of the clients of the diner. He began to wonder what was happening to him. It was äàã's doing, He was sure of it! He was the one who had given him the money to go on this vacation. Could he have done something else to him? Was it just the questions? Did he use some kind of ray on my mind? Panic swelled he began sweating. Then the waitress came back and asked for their desert order. They asked for triple scoup double fudge icecreamcones. The icecream seemed to cool him down a little. Next morning he was a little better he was back to his usual self, or so he thought. Mary and Joe were certainly their usual selves. On this bright and beautiful day they went to visit Fred's Faboulous Farm. It really was little more than a patch of acerage devoted more towards tourism than production. There were all the livestock and parafanalia one would expect to find on a farm. It was a day of goofing off with the farm animals. Looking at the chickens made John think of the fish. Here were the chickens, little lumps with yellow legs and a few dots for eyes and a beak. The fish were sleek shiny scaly things with fins and eyes, and gills, and stripes... Why weren't the chickens like the fish? He cautiusly approached one and knelt near it. He was afraid it might peck but it didn't. It was still just a fuzzy collection of dots! He stood up and briskly walked away. He felt a growing unease. Farmer Fred waved at him. Farmer fred looked like a big yellow mass of dots in the shape of a farmer's hat, a tan face, grey beard, white shirt, and blue coveralls. But he was just dots! "Hi fred" John waved back. Maybe by force of will he could make this new awareness go away. By the time the vacation was over John just wanted to go home to the normality of his house. The car started chugging up the pass leading out of the valley. Did it really have to chug or could he make it go faster somehow? He nailed the pedal to the nylon carpet. The engine let out an ungodly roar as it surged forward pushing over three hundred and fifty simulated horsepower. No he already knew his car could do this. He eased up on the gas. A flash of inspiration hit him. He turned the engine off as the car continued to move up the road. He floored it. The car shot forward like a flash! He approached a curve. A Yellow sign warned "25 mph" with a diaghram of twisty road. The car's needle was approaching top end, (125 mph). The car shot around the turns as if the road was a drag strip. Inertia seemed to have gone out the same window as the rule that you needed an engine to drive a car up a hill. They arived home. The car glided into the driveway. Joe and mary had fallen asleep like they normally did despite the fact that he was driving like those people he didn't insure for the entire trip home. But he wasn't going to notice these things he keept assuring himself. Chapter 3 Home is a place of solice and healing. Where one retreats to in order to cure wounds and mend the soul. A place where one finds new faith through the comfort of family. With the last sock place in perfect alignment with the other four pairs in the drawer John walked towards the kitchen. His thoughts were in turmoil. He paused at the door and watched Mary put sliced vegitables in the pot for the stew. He didn't want do disturb her but his thoughts overode his normal politeness. He walked across the kitchen, turned off the stove, and placed his hand over the knife. Mary keept on cutting. The blunt edge of the knife moved up through John's fingers without doing any dammage and keept cutting the meat. He spoke "Mary stop!" She looked at him and said "Dinner will be ready in twenty three minutes." He blocked himself from thinking about the implied conclusion that was almost covered in spotlights and blinking in many neon colors. "I am having a bad day." She turned to look at him appreciatively "Oh is your boss giving you a hard time agian today?" "What are you talking about! I am an equal partner in my company, and we have been on vacation for the last week!" "Oh nothing, Nevermind." "No! Listen! Think!" ... "Can you hear me?" ... He left the room. She went back to cutting. He believed that one should never abandon one's wife. But he had nothing against leaving a mindless drone. He couldn't leave yet. Not untill after he had seen the same thing in his son. The table was set. The raw meat and cold crispy vegies were on the trays. All was in readiness. The test would be a marvel of simplicity. The family sat down. John watched keenly as Joe took the food. Joe started to eat. John was ignoring his hunger. Conversationally he asked "So, Joe, How do you like your mother's cooking." The response was the cute little rhyme John had been dreading. "It tastes yummy to my tummy!" John stood and left. He went to the bedroom, chucked his clothes in a careless heap on the floor instead of landing crumpled up, each had exactly one slantwise fold in it when it came to rest and the buttons on the front of the shirt were in a row that was perfectly orthagonal with the walls. John crawled into bed. His hunger remained a constant annoyance but he ignored it. If his hunch was right it was unimportant. He thought about what he would do tomorrow. He was going on a trip. What should he take? If he was going to the beach he should take sunscreen. Quite consievably with the universe as he now knew it, he could do with nothing at all. Still he was in this universe and he would have to deal with it as it was, with all its quirks, so he would have to pack some stuff. Anyway he figured the morning would be a better time to think. He got out of bed. His beard had grown and was now in its "scragely" state. That wasn't a concern. He dressed into his normal suit. Then filled his briefcase with various ods and ends. He didn't have a pocketknife so he packed a small kitchen knife wrapped in a towel, a sall set of tools, a lunch (incase he was wrong about his hunger), some paper, and his pens, and a flashlight. He looked at it and wondered what else a novice adventurer would need. Mary came into the room. She was obviously looking for her breakfast since it was not ready she simply stopped. The fact that it never would be made wasn't a factor in her equations. John stared at her for a few minutes. This hunger was getting annoying. He went out to the front step, picked up a milkbottle and chugged the entire thing. When it was done he stared at the bluish shape in his hand. "Aw Screwit." He chucked the bottle onto the pavement of the walk to the sreet where it shattered in exactly the same manner it had five months before when he accidentially dropped it. He didn't glance twice. He got into his car and sped off using the trick he had discovered the day before. His first stop was his office, that was where it all began. He wanted to review the papers that the strange man had given him. He tried to think of which file he was going to retrieve when he arrived but he simply couldn't. He could remember a man without the top of his head but he couldn't remember the man's name. He remembered that it was a tough name so he shouldn't have trouble picking it out. He tried to park his car crossways in the lot but the laws of physics didn't allow it. He was only allowed to park normally. He tried to do everything as unusually as possible in order to keep prooving his hypothesis to himself. First he waited for the revolving door to stop then went in the wrong way. He was about to push the door backwards but he lost concious controll of his body and was able to do nothing but walk through it normally. He added this data to his understanding of the universe. Next in the elevator he got in but didn't walk all the way to the back of the car nor turn around to face the door. He would use the dings to get to his floor. The other people filed in behind him in their usual formation but didn't fill in the empty space even though there were people waiting in the lobby. The office was the same as ever. He obeyed the standard protocol with his secraetary because he didn't want to break her program, yet. He went to the filecabinet. No unusual names. He asked the secretary to list the appointments for the day he thought it was on. There was a hole in the list! Elane couldn't remember who he had either but she seemed to remember that he had been booked solid on that morning. The man had been "Disappeared" just as he had feared he would be. It was time to honor his last request. Where to go next? Where do you go to learn more about your universe? Where do you go to learn about anything? (so long as it doesn't require more than a sixth grade reeding level as the author has discovered). John went to the public library. The building was a small nondescript box shaped building that was just big enough for some tables, a desk, and enough shelves to have no more than a handfull for each sectcon. This was John's first visit to the library, and perhaps any library. What a Jolt! His entire universe was replaced by a set of menus and a helpfull librarian. He forgot the first rule of adventuring. He panict (I tried several spellings on that and this one works the best). In a way that he didn't quite comprehend he "touched" 'EXIT' and was back to his normal self. He shook his head and decided that this could be something that could, in a single step, solve the mystery. He held his breath and went back in. "Hello sir How may I help you?" The librarian had a good question. John knew something was very wrong with his universe but all he had were a collection of facts, not somethnig that would point him to a subject of research. He would have to start somewherst! "Please give me *anything*." What he got was a cheezy novel abut a man who lived about thirty years ago in a place called StLouis who had a kind of romantic longing for the golden age of nanotech just before the "singularity" with the new arts and musics that any time of prosperity and transition brings as humanity tries to find a new understanding of itself. John saw that the man and perhaps the author missed the obvious conclusion that the art and atmosphere that the man was looking for in the past was happening still and always would be happening in an infinite number of new areas of life. Towards the end of the book John was quite upset. Here was a man who was rejecting what he was looking for just because he couldn't recognise it. In the end he killed himself. If he had done it a page later John would have killed *himself*. Still from that book were a whole host of words to look up and this nagging inconsistancy. Thorughout the work the author, who Jhon had a low oppinion of, continued to take for granted fantastical technologies that John had never heard of while the date reported by the library and the book (ajusting upwards by by 30 years) was the same as that on the calendar on his desk. The library itself was evidence of the author's version of reality over his own. So he read. The entire library. All of it. Not quite (he skipped the cheap novels) but damn close. He had no way of judging time while he was in the library. He asked the library what the date was and it was 2143. He had been in there for five years. The city was somewhat different. New buildings had been added. From what he now knew about this brand of artificial world that to leave it one went to the temple (usually dedicated to the person who created the world) and walk through the glowing arch on the north wall. In the temple there was a crowd of unusual looking people milling around in idle chit-chat. Some were quite exotic. There was a warewolf chatting with a 2-headed bard. A short little man with a pointy beard trying to put the moves on an angel. None of them gave him a second glance as he walked past. On the other side he was back in a menu as he was in the library. There was a list of hundreds of worlds on the net. He chose one at random and appeared on a rock balcony atop one of several giant irregular megalths. Inside was a room with a giant astrolabe and telescope. He looked out onto the flat desert and the stars visable through the thin atmosphere. He noticed someone staring at immages flashing through a large crystal orb under a giant circular skylight in the enclosed part of the room. The person was of indeterminable gender and didn't take any notice of him at first. He broke the silence. "Hello, I am trying to get to a place called 'New York' can you tell me how to get there from here?" (Actually anywhere on 'Earth' or the moon for that matter, would be equally acceptable but he had heard such great things about New York and he wanted to narrow the field of inquiry.) *ZAP* The world disappeared and he was back at the big menu. Appearenty he had stumbled into somebody's personal world and he wasn't expected. Hey, if you leave your system open that's what you get! Fortunately his mind was distributed among at least several very reliable nodes and loosing part of it wasn't a noticable loss as it was programed to recover from sudden removal of power at any one node. Another world, another temple. This one was medi-eval, there were torches and a priestess. Several sleeping people lay all around the room. They were recovering from battle wounds. A few of them were talking. "Say, could any of you direct me to New York?" They looked at him. "Yes thats where you belong but I havn't found it yet... Perhaps it is somewere in the Mega Citty One area." "Thanks." He walked out of the temple in search of this 'Mega City One'. There was a large plaza and several roads leading out of it. He took one. It led towards a large guarded gate. The guards were dressed like old Roman soldiers. He asked them wheather this road led to Mega City One but got no reply. He decided to take the road anyway. Almost the instant he stepped out of the city the huge oak doors closed behind him with a thunderous BOOM. High above the doors, etched into the arch, was the word "MIDGAARD". He walked west along the road. The trail got darker and darker. He pulled out his flashlight and was able to procede. The trail continued for a ways suddenly out of nowhere a wolf appeared. The wolf attacked with a mighty WHACK! John tried to fight back but quickly found himself dead. The death lasted only aout ten seconds. He found himself back in the temple. Wounded but alive. To his horror he had lost his briefcase! He went to the people who were still chatting. "Can you help me, I lost my briefcase." They giggled. "yer a newbie! I hope that teaches you not to go into an area that is too tough for you!" He wasn't really happy with this response. "Look, All I want to do is get to New York." "Take a Skycar!" they replied. Yes that made sense to john. He had learned quite a bit about the history of personal transportation. "Where may I find a skycar?" In an unmistakably derogative tone the dwarf said "Take off your VR-suit and walk outside to your local launchport." Again the advice made sense but he had no idea how to go about 'taking off a VR-suit'. He inquired further but they were ignoring him. This was probably just an adventure world. Back in the Great Menu he considered where to go next. He decided all of these worlds were variations of the same artifical scheme. Where was the button for the "real world"? He tried entering a random unlisted number in the selection box. It said "ERROR: Invalid world" He tried 000 It said "ERROR: Unable to return to system interface". Aha! That was probably it, but appearently he couldn't return to that world because he had never been there in the first place! He would have to find help somewhere inside this virtual universe. He stepped out of the temple and recognised exactly where he was. He was at the Acropolis in ancient Greece. He also knew where he was going. He needed to find the road to Delphi. There was an urn with map-scrolls in it. He took one and set out. Along the road he was passed by a cart carrying olives. The man driving the cart offered him a ride. He hopped aboard. The man was wearing a leather tunic. John was still wearing his modern suit. The most apprpopriate question to the driver seemed to be "how's buisiness?" The man told him about his cargo and the man he worked for. He knew about olives alright. He knew nothing about knowing about olives though. The man was just a more sophisticated variation of the drones used in the other worlds he had been to. The man was concious but unconcious of being concious. He would never get up in the morning one day with the purpose of finding a better life for himself. A true imrpovement on the design. Should John try to play the role of äàã and try to open his eyes? Would there be any point to such a project? Probably not. Several days later he parted company with the man and started on the path to the temple. At night the temple could be seen as a briliantly white beacon high on the mountain. In the day it was a shiny speck that contrasted with the semi-arid terain. The path was wide and well tended. There were several people coming and going with him. They didn't pay him any special notice. The people were mostly clergy, nobles, and generals. He noticed that the simulation of this area was more detailed than in other parts of the world. He had to whipe beats of sweat from his brow several times. The temple itself was a hundred foot ring of columns forty feet high. In the center was a fifty foot pillar of light capped with a metal ring inscribed with words that translated to "This world belongs to Ted. Ph33r his judgement!" There was a priest inside the temple discussing his vilage and asking for the oracle's advice on how to manage the vilage for the next year. Just then it hit him the enormity of what he was trying to do. He wasn't just asking for a lift to New York or wherever, He was doing nothing less than asking to be admitted into "Valhalla" or "Nirvana" or wherever. What if the God said no and struck him down? What if he said *yes*? Anyway the moment of truth was now. The priest had recieved his instructions and was walking out of the temple. John took his hat off and stepped inside. This was going to be the most critical moment in his existance. Whatever 'ph34r' was John was ph33ling it. The light was blinding but John forced himself to look at it directly. He took his hat off and held it in his hand. A booming voice addressed him. "WHAT IS YOUR REPORT?" Appearently the entity was treating him as if he were one of the inhabitants of this world. John wondered if this entity would be as deaf to his message as it was blind to his appearance. Nomatter, he spoke. "My name is John Bushelford. I come here to ask for admittance to the Rootworld, number 000." There was silence, then more silence, and silence after that. John waited. In a lonely bedroom in Dayton Ohio, Neil Dues was idleing his time away in a chatroom. A message popped up, It was an error message from the Golden Age of Greece simulation him and his friends were running. It was one of the best simulations available and almost bug free. The error message said something about a sentient program had been detected. The usual practice was just to delete it before it demanded a voter's registration. Appearently this one had gotten into his simulation from another one that wasn't under the local controller's jurisdiction. This would mean that he would have to deal with it personaly. *sigh* Just as the silence was ataining a creshendo that could almost top the voice, it was broken. This time it was some whiny adolescant voice. "Hey, Why do you guys keep coming in here?" "I came seeking council from the oracle." If this was the G0D, he liked the oracle better. Still this one seemed to have a good grasp of the situation. "They always say that. Listen, before I banish you, I want you to tell all your friends that they can't get to the real world! You have minds, but they just can't cut it out here. Stop trying, and more importantly, stop bothering me!" John realized that he was about to lose contact with someone who could possibly help him. "WAIT! Hear me!" "Alright. I'm bored anyway." "I am a program, right?" "Yep" "Programs can be changed, can they not?" "'course." "Allow me to change my program so I can live in the real world." "Hmm." -Silence- --DISCONTINUITY-- The landscape was still mountainous but the climate was much wetter. There was a bhudist monestary sat at the perfect altitude on the perfect slope in perfect harmony with the rushing stream and the mist in the trees. John heard a chant coming from inside. "ooooommmaepadmeooooooooommmmm" He put his hat back on and started towards the temple. Chapter 4 One of the most enjoyable things any man can do with his life is to go on a quest. The form of the quest can be many it matters little. It is the steps that are the real reward! He stepped into the temple. There was a man sitting on a rug on the balcony above looking out at the sunset. John approached him. The dance of light and shadow was invigorating. The man seemed to be talking to himself. "Right now, as I watch, the sun sets. But the sun has no command over me for I can remember things backwards and say the sun is rising. Or I could only look at it for a second and say that it has been and always will sit just as it is above the horizon. But that means nothing. It is best to just look at the sun and know that I will soon take my evening's rest." The Zen master sat and meditated for a while. The sun went down. John took another step forward to address the master but the master spoke first. "You will sleep in the house at the end of the path to the north. Your lessons will begin in the morning." John was confounded. He opened his mouth to speak but the man rose and placed his finger on his lips then left to a room that served as his living quarters. The next morning John approached the master. The master was reciting the same incantation he did the previous night with some variation. John waited for his lesson. The master spoke. "Don't let the serenity of this place decieve you. Here you will face your greatest challenge. Most who have come before you have perished. What is your will?" "Teach me." The master turned and looked at john. After a pause he smiled. "I think you stand a good chance, come." The master led john to an atrium with a square of sand and a few rocks at various places around. The man handed john a rake. "This is your first task." With that the master left to go sweep the steps. John set to work immediately. He collected all the rocks and sat them in the corners, then he raked all the sand smoothe. He set the rake down and turned to go summon the master. Just at that instant he realized that he had made a terrible mistake and was ignoring completely the nature of the task. He sat on a bench at one end of the atrium and stared at the sand. He sat there for three days. The master never asked him what was taking him so long. At the end he came up with an idea that he would just rake it not to give it order but to align it with himself. With that in mind he began to rake. Just as he laid the rake aside the master returned. The master looked at it for an hour without any visable response. Finally he said "You have done well... Yes now I'll have to kill you." John's only concept of death was that it meant that you reappeared at an altar without any of your stuff. That kind of death he didn't mind at all. He had read a number of texts that detailed various rituals of trial by combat which seemed appropriate in this circumstance. The Master had something completely different in mind. Quite literally, it was in his mind not his hand. He spoke his mind "A dove flying south noticed a young and fit student asking his aged Master for direction. The master said to the student 'you are in no condition to travel.' The student followed the dove instead." John sat down to puzzle over this for a while. What an interesting story! John turned to the Master who was silently meditating to thank him but he couldn't speak! He tried to think of words to say but they were all gone. He mooved his mouth but to no avail. He could make sound but not words! The master turned to him and smiled. He wrapped his arm arund John's shoulder. John understood he was supposed to stand up. He was bewildered. His legs were shaky, if the Master handn't been holding him he would have fallen. The master took him to the main gate of the monestary. He said a blessing that john heard but had no way of understanding. So he walked. Wherever the road lead he followed. He began to see what it was like to be a PINK ZEPPELIN person. He saw that the world was nothing but a playground. Whatever he willed could be made to happen. He could will himself to walk a hundred times faster. He could will himself back to Greece, right up to the temple. He wanted to but he would have no way of telling the G0D of his new mind. So he walked. He had been changed in other ways too. He now needed to sleap every so often, usually after passing through a town where there was a lot of excitement. As he passed through towns he heard people shouting solicitations and workers shouting instructions to each other. He soon started to learn a new vocabulary. He keept trying to think with these new words and form them into complete and intelligent sentances but he couldn't. One night he came across an encampment of a caravan heading west. The people in it were of the same sort he had been meeting his whole journey, phony people. Still it was nice to have some people, hovever phony, to talk to. They sat around the campfire and sang songs. John was able to sing along just fine. Then it was time to tell stories. The people of the caravan told wonderful stories of mythical far off lands and the heros and monsters that filled them. Then it came time for john to speak. In halting broken sentances constructed of only a child's vocabulary John spoke. Once again John stood outside the temple. His suit was immaculate. His shoes were shined. With a serene calm he watched the phony vilager complain about its sheep. The Oracle gave the entity its instructions and dismissed it. John walked into the audience chamber and waited. "WHAT IS YOUR REPORT?" the voice from the column of light boomed. With a smirk John responded "The country of Mongolia has reported a fine catch of Lobster. The distruction of the rainforest in Madegascar is proceding at an alarming rate. The Bananna crop from Siberia is 20,000 pounds. And finally, John Bushelford has returned." The voice went silent. John stood there grinning to himself like a cheshire cat. By and by the dweeb responded. "Oh you again. Didjya meet the monk?" "Yes I did happen to make his acquaintance. I am ready." "No you aren't. If you surely can't realize what you are asking for and still be so confident, go away." John took a step forward. "This world is empty. It offers me nothing. I seek something more." The column of light remained silent. John looked at it and came to an understanding that the person on the other side was not saying anything because there was nothing to say. All that remained was for John to act. He did and discovered that the column of light was not light, it was FIRE!!! John tried to scream. An EM converter really sucks alot of juice. About ten terrawatts to be exact. What it does isn't to attempt to create new matter, mater comes into existance and dissappears all the time. The trick is that there is never a net gain or loss. Vacumn fluctuations, as they are called, always happen in pairs. One is a particle, the other an anti particle. What EM converters do is anticipate when the next desired vacumn flux will take place and then shoot a particle at the virtual antiparticle, causing an antimatter reaction that results in the creation of a stable particle in roughly the place you want it. During this process of reversing entropy the temprature in the EM converter drops from infinity to however cold you want it to be. The problem is getting the temperature to drop fast enough as not to destroy what you are trying to mak. Lucily for John the EM converter in Neil's Neighborhood was capable of fabricating a lifeform. The feeling of being consumed in flame gave way to a cross between having a bad case of the flew and a really bad hangover. He didn't even have to look at the chamber he was in to know he had made it. For one the data streams he had been using to mess with his own program were gone. But more significantly everything here was infinitely more detailed than anything that could be simulated in a computer. As John sood up he ran his hand along the stainless steel floor. It was real, It was physical. Where in a computer the grain of the metal would be a simple repeating pattern, this metal was absolute chaos. It was something that had been dug out of hills and then smelted into steel. He stood and opened the door to the chamber. Too much! There was too much information. Where before was just data here was a scene where every aspect had a rich story to tell. The building was in a commercial district. He noticed a monitor nearby. It was flashing that a certain Neil Dues now owed $30,000 for the replication of 170lbs of meat... Oh well. He shook his head to releave his headache. His neck cracked slightly. It stopped him dead in his tracks. At first he was terrified then he was absolutly delighted. It wasn't just something new it was a promice of ten thousand new things that he never could have immagined in the dreamtime world he had come from. So he stepped out of the facility and laughed. He had NO idea where he was going. The trafic on the street was moderate. What impressed John was that it was perfectly chaotic but not simply random as the computer would generate. He turned to the left and took one step towards the bus-stop but was halted in his tracks because he had forgotten his destination. Okay he gets on the bus and leaves for anywhere in the world. Why leave in the first place? It was his understanding that every citizen had an allowance from the government and only needed to work if he wanted to "get ahead" or earn a higher social status. There were pleanty of resources for everybody. He decided to follow his path to New York for the time being. He hopped on a streetcar. It required no fare. There was a computer at the seat that was displaying some informational messages such as "Celebrating 250 years of streetcars in Dayton", "Commemorating the great flood of 1909"... He punched up a routemap and saw that there were a great many attractions in the citty. It was the birthplace of the airplane. It hosted the "Dayton Peace accords of 1997". There was a trainstation several stopps down okay that's where he would get off. John watched people get on and off. Some were normal humans such as himself. Many had computing devices Some were merely wearing them others were actually wired into them. John touched the word news and read sevreal articles. There was too much sci/tech news to bother even attempting to describe any of it. Instead the news listing concentrated on upcoming local events and some articles about recient social trends. The article expressed concern that the corporeal population was plumiting. Appearently the in thing was the opposite of what John had just done. Currious John pondered this. While he couldn't do any of the tricks he had learned to do in the Digital one this one was far richer. Just the magnitude of it was fantastic. If he were to cut his finger he would have to wait for it to heal. That was what being real was all about. Real actions have real consequences. The bus came to a stop near the train terminal. The terminal was staffed by crome plated robots wearing fancy blue uniforms. He walked to the ticket counter and asked for the train to New York. The robot said "The train departs from Track 7 in fifteen minutes". John pulled out his wallet and waited a second to see if paymet was requested. It wasn't. He went to the train. It was about twice the length of the bus. Its surface was glassy smooth to allow a laminer flow of air as it was about to accelerate to supersonic velocities. The trains were small to provide convenience. Instead of making passengers wait for a train every three or four hours why not have a smaller one leave every half hour? John boarded and took a seat. His shoes were beginning to pinch. He suspected that they were created new with his own exsistance and needed time to break in. The train slid out of its cradle and onto the vast network of pneumatic tracks. The instant the train cleared the city John was nearly crushed into his seat by the train accelerating. He looked out the window to see how fast he was going but his vision was obstructed by the earth noise dams and the forest of concrete pillars designed to dampen the train's sonic boom. Now with about an hour to think John wondered about the things he had gained and lost. He had gained access to the 'real' world. That was a definite plus. On the other hand now that everything was real stepping out into the forest as in that one simulation would have really been the end of him. A child ran by his seat down the center isle of the train. John was reminded of the phony family he had left behind. Surely this was the better world than that. He had lost the ability to easily manipulate it though. He wondered about that. If part of him were still inside the machine he would have been able to make more selves that he could place strategically around the planet. The child ran by agin obviously in some kind of daydream about flying in space or somesuch. John smiled "You'd better not run too fast or you'll break the speed of light". What game had he been a part of? He made a note to himself to look into finding his maker. The train flew into a switching area where powerfull magnets altered its course to send it to New York instaid of Philidelphia. There was another train from Cincinatti that was headed for Philidelphia and it was headed for the same switch at what appaered to be the same time! John knew it was *probably* safe but gripped his chair in terror. The Philidelphia bound train missed John's by only a few dozen feet. John knew the train was driven by robots but he didn't think they were suicidal too. The train slid into its destination cradle just as john's nerves were finally beginning to ease. Grand Centeral station had been preserved as it had been for centuries. Southern manhattan was still home to over five million humans and cyborgs. Just to the north a huge cybernetics core was home to tens of millions of digital d‘mons. As john was beginning to take it in a rather tall woman approached him and greeted him "Welcome to New York, John." Chapter 5 New York: The City of Dreams "Its funny but I wasn't expecting any one to recognise me?" John asked trying to figrue out what exactly was going on. He had no reason to be suspicious but he was currious as hell. "I've been expecting you." -- "Well not you in particular but people just like you. You all come here. That's why I'm here. It's sortof my job. I'm Sam Greenwald." "We all...?" John promted while looking around nervously to see wheather he could pick himself out in the crowds. "Well many like you. People looking for a new start in a new life. Others just stumble in here by accident. Onetime A gamer who was playing Alexander The Great during his conquest of the persan empire did quite poorly. He was defeated and made a run to the gate back. He forgot to close it. Before we knew it emperor Darius the second had marched a whole legeon in persuit. Once he learned of New York he occupied the city, and proclaimed it his new capitol." "Hmm, the last place I was had reciently turned back the army of Emperor Darius the First. If we are referring to the same timeframe then it probably didn't take you long to correct it." "True but things were quite interesting when he ordered us to start producing charriots for his next conquest. The people love it when things like that happen, its usually the most excitement they can find." "Things seem quite interesting enough as they are. Infact I'm growing rather weary from my travels. Could you reccomend me lodgings for the night?" Sam took a look at him and his neatly cut hair, neat blue suit, and his buffed and polished shoes. With a mischevous smile she said "I have just the place for you. How does the Technoclor Dreams Hotel sound?" "It sounds like it will do for now." "Good you now have reservations, Let me take you to eat." Now this made John suspicious. To John, making reservations intailed no less than going to a phonebook, looking up a number, and a 2-5 minute conversation. She responded to his unspoken inquiry with another one of her damnable grins. "Come on, shake it off. I'll tell you tomorrow morning if you can't figure it out in the meantime." John tried, Good lord he tried yet he only just barely managed to suppress his curriosity and continue with his guide to the resteraunt. As Sam escorted John to the resteraunt he had this feeling that his soul was being scrutinized. Her eyes didn't rest uppon him, infact they seemed to make a point of being somewhere else. But still he felt that she was doing the work of decyphering him. It was a most unsetteling feeling! She led him to a nice resteraunt that John would have given three stars. The food was, well, real and real good too! It was a chineese resteraunt and the walls were painted with what one finds in a chinees resteraunt. Among the drawings he could pick out the story of his life. His family. The monestary he where he earned his soul and the great battle with the fire dragon. "I wonder how many could say the same about these walls?" he asked assuming she would pick up the rest of his question. She did. "A few but mostly only in dreams." He dragged his mind out of the delicous food just long enuff for him to notice that she wasn't eating anything. '?' "I have built-in machines that take care of that." She said with a smirk. He shrugged "Well it's your loss." He spilled a noodle on his shirt. "Hmm. I'm going to have to get this laundered. I will be needing a suit of clothes." "Yes, we'll take care of that tomorrow." He was too lost in his own thoughts to respond. He looked around and saw the people. There was no magic pattern. There was no governing algorythm. No clock could predict the moment when the people would reach for their chopsticks or signal for the bill. "This really is reality." "Yes but nobody really cares about money unless you are clawing for the top these days. Lets go." They boarded a small people-moover. Sam didn't mess with the destination selector, she just glanced at the serial number and the car shot off. "These controlls make you locate the destination on a map or from a menu, It's much easier to just shoot the coordinants in and tell it to go." Sam explained. John gave her a funny look. "Tomorrow." The car came to a rest in front of a rather gaudy Hotel. John wasn't sure this was his kind of place. The car-circle was decorated with ornate gold- leaf covered pillars, vaulted celings and a thick red carpet. The gems Imbedded in them were backlit and shone bright red, amber, green, blue, and violet. Above the enterance was the insription "Technicolor Dreams" written in colors that shimmered and shifted with each step. The bellhop was a robot who stepped forward seeing guests arriving but withdrew uppon seing that they didn't have luggage to be carried. The loby was even more extreme. The two-storry-tall walls of the hundred foot long loby showed gradually shifted from one exotic location to an immaginary one to one from Deluth in a slow endless succession. It was as if the hotel was unstuck in time and space and glided through all of existance in search of the Dreamtime. The checkin clerk was human and greated John with a smile. Welcome to New York, will you be staying with us for the night? "Yes I believe I will." He didn't believe it. It was all so unbelievable. Just Incredible! He had woken up this morning as a Digital Dream and now is a living being in a land of dreams. "Please put your hand on the handle here to get your palmprint." John was somewhat hesitant but did as asked. "Your room will be 1227, Have a nice stay." Sam spoke as John was turning away from the counter "Will you be alright for the night?" "Yes, It would seem I will be. Where shall we meet tomorrow?" "I will be here tomorrow at eight thirty. Anyway I have to go now. My wife will be worried sick about me." "uh Don't you mean husband?" "No, he is out on a deep-space mission. He is helping to establish a colony on Titan. I'm hermaphorditic." It took a few seconds to register with John. "Okay I'll see you in the morning." The elevator was designed to simulate a space elevator when going up and a mineshaft when going down. John was getting a headache again. He closed his eyes. The car came to a rest and the door opened. It was his floor and thankfully the decore was not changing every few minutes. The room was around a few corners but John found it easily. The doorknob was featureless and there was no lock. There was a slight tingling as John gripped the knob. It clicked a few times and then opened. The lights came on as John entered. The room was nice with a large TV screen on one wall and the bed was practically magnetic to persons in his state of fatigue. John changed out of his clothes into a complementary suit of pajamas. He brushed his teeth with the cheap complementary toothbrush and then went to the bed to go to sleep. He wanted to be up at 7:30 in the morning so he fiddled with the clock untill it seemed like it intended to go off at the right time. Then there was something puzzling. There was a device which contained a catalogue of dreams. If it was what it seemed to be, sleep would nolonger be a matter of chance. One entry cought John's attention, It advertised a program for those who were missing the company of their spouse. John thought of Mary and that last horrible evening he had spent with her. He selected the program and lay down. The lights automagically dimmed to a faint glow. Sheets! Real linnen sheets! What a cool soothing embrace. John counted himself lucky as on this night sleep wasn't his enemy but a welcome friend. ******************* John was standing on top of the huge building to the North. It's roof was flat and grassey. He turned around and there was his house and his wife was waiting for him at the door. They were inside standing in the den. They kissed. He ran his fingers through her soft blonde hair and gazed into her deep blue eyes. "Tell me you love me." He said. "Oh I do, I do, I do, I do, Forever!" She replied with a warm smile and a gentle giggle. They were in bed making love. What an odd sensation! John began to worry that he was late for work. It was midday but here he was in his bedroom with his wife who was only a digital cutout without a soul. ******************* John sat up in bed, turned to the Dreamweaver, and turned it off decicively. Home was a place he was not going back to. Chapter 6 Oh where have I come from? Where will I go? Dare I ask? Will I ever know? The loby of the Technocolor Dreams was spooling through its sunrize collection when John stepped out of the Elevator. It was only Eight so John went and had a cup of Coffee to wait for Sam. As he drank he read the newsfeed that was presented through a screen embedded in the table. The news was mostly fit under the headings of art, style, and nightlife but John was still interested. When the cup was empty John left a pair of quarters in payment. The front of the "Quarter Buck" proclaimed "In Bob We Trust" and the back had the Emblem of Sim Nation, Rockey The Flying Squirel. In the lobby John met Mr.Bushelford. John walked up to the imposter with a mildly bemused mein. "I get you you're a mimmic. You enjoy being people." "Yes, the more interesting, the better. You are one of the best I've met." Replied Sam Greenwald tipping hir hat slightly. "I'm glad you think so but I believe you have promiced me several answers that I trust you will provide presently." "Okay lets have a seat over there." indicating a lounge area of the lobby. "Alright, now out with it." "No, No you won't get it out of me, I won't tell!" Sam mused but quickly reverted to a more serious tone. "I am a cybernetic orgainism. I am eighty five years old. You can't quite say I was born, more like I was manufactured in a form quite close to the way I am now. I was able to pull off those parlor tricks yesterday using my advanced nerual interface. It is the most advanced ever designed." John pondered. "Yes that could be quite usefull. Almost as advantagous as having access to the variables of your simulation." "Moreso in my oppinion." "Then it would be a good idea for me to obtain some a system such as that." "Yes but they are hard to come by. It all depends on who you know and what you know." Sam said with a quirky smirk. "I'll look into it." "Okay lets work on getting you set up with a place around here." "Yes that would be appropriate as I could move elsewhere later. Also could you reccomend a good laundry?" "In recient times the technologies for diswhashers and washing machines has converged into a general purpose ultrasonic cleaning machine." "How ironic." John looked at the sunrize presented by the wall for a minute and then continued the conversation "Could you get me a place that is not nearly as gaudy as this. It's enough to give a statue headaches." "I just wanted to give you some interesting experiences. I guess my judgement is a bit off because I have an extremely high tolerance and desire for stimulation. I'm sorry." "That's okay. Now about my place?" "Yes, there is an appartment a few miles to the west of here that has evolved into the citty's philisophical nexus and center for higher culture. I think you would like it there." "I believe I would. Thanks again." Sam tiped hir hat "much obliged." With a freshly laundered suit of clothes and a new set in the bag he carried John walked along the streets to his new residance. There was no graund trafic as all the real transportation used the many snaking tracks both above and below ground. Fortunately each track was encased in a noise sleeve that did much to dull the din of hundreds of the little cars zipping along the tracks. It wasn't that they were noisy one by one but the hundreds of them togeather with all their humming drive magnets and the clicking as the guide wheels gently touched the sides of the track holding it on course. Even just the wind of their travel really did stack up. Each track was interlaced with tracks going in oposite directions. It took most of the day for john to travel the distance. He loved the building at first sight. The building was at least a hundred years old, probably more. That was good. A building doesn't have charactor untill it has been reprised by several architects. The enterance to the building was on the second floor as the street had been raised when the city was refurbished about 50 years ago. It had an ultra-modern cyber feel to it. It did its best to inspire a feeling of lofty ideals and intellectual persuits. The older parts of the building that were the orrigional ground floor had a much more human feel. It was more of a basement these days than a functioning lobby. It was once closed for storage but people pushed the boxes asside and moved their own furnature down there so they could continue talking... The building manager was going to restore the lobby to its orrigional style but then saw that the furnature that was there was far more comfortable. Since then several psychologists studied what was happening. It was just that the *real* intellectuals who were maintaining the furnature liked small humble rooms with lots of fun and interesting quirks. It was human. Those surroundings allowed them to *be* human. It allowed them to be happy about their own rough edges. In doing that it freed them of their worries and allowed them to apply their brains to something beyond conforming to their surroundings. John's room already knew his handprint when he arrived. Sam had just given him a room number and told him it was his. He didn't check in or anything just went to the room and it was all ready. The room was a small sparsely furnished appartment. There was no place to hang his hat so he left it on the kitchenette counter. He did hang up his jacket and had threw himself down on the bed. What a walk! What a day. He worried that since he had been, by all measures, born yesterday, would he be suceptable to being duped? It was a comfortable thing to think about. A painfull thing to think about was tomorrow. What was to be done about tomorrow? His only lead was a certain Alex Hanson who had taken it uppon himself to fasion a pen that had ended up on John's desk. Who was he? Why did he take the time to bring John and his universe into existance? John went to the window and looked out at the reflections of the sun off the buildings in the waining twilight. Here he would need to answer his hunger and go down to get a byte to eat. As John rounded the last corner following the signs to the building's restraunt he had thought he had stumbled uppon a costume party. The people were bright and gaudy with color and even, in some cases, form. John felt a little uncomfortable walking up to the blue skinned head waiter. "um sorry I forgot my walaruss suit but might I have a table anyway?" "hmpf, newcomers. This is an open restraunt. There is only one table. We also have private booths but I don't get the impression thats what you want. Can I offer you a seat?" John sawn that there was one large table that extended into the center at various places so instead of having to talk over a table, people can talk in groups in the various alcoves. Clever design. "Yes I think I'll have a seat if the food's good?" "The food's whatever you want it to be, have a seat." The waiter led john to a plot of table that he would steak and lay claim to for the next hour or so. The menu was in the table again. John was idly tapping away at it when he was interrupted by his neighbor. "The apple and bananna split looks would go down nice!" The voice was unnaturally high-pitched. Not shrill but meta-suprano. When John looked over at the speaker he did't see a woman but a butterfly. Well it was an unnaturally slender woman with large brightly colored wings. Her eyebrows stuck out like antenii. "Well hello, what do we have here?" "Hi I'm the monarch Syphla." She responded extending a very fragile looking hand. She was 5'9" but couldn't have weighed more than 90 lbs. "I'm Jhon Bushelford, insurance agent." She giggled in response. John pushed some buttons somewhat indifferantly. Anything but chineese, He had eaten that last night. "I'm new here, Can you tell me more about this area and how people came to be the way they are?" "It's a town. There is nothing too spectacular about it. Just remember to be nice to people and you'll get along nicely. People come the way they want to come. I really can't say that much more because I havn't been around that long." "How old are you?" asking the prompted question. "I'm only eight. I got my wings two weeks ago, do you like?" "Well they're um... Colorful. What are you doing here alone talking to me then?" She shrugged. "I am hungry so I came to the resteraunt." She seemed to be on the virge of tears at the response she was getting to her body. John looked the other way to see if his pasta and meatballs were on their way yet. Just arriving to his right was a robot. Well he was a cyborg of some strange type that instead of striving to be more strong and supple his supraskeleton made him boxy and mechanical. His motions were a procession of discernable steps. "Let me guess, You're nine." "APPROXIMATE. . . MY AGE PARAMETER BECOMES FIVE-NINE IN TWO-ZERO POINT SEVEN DAYS. . . MY NAME IS ROBIE." "If you don't mind my asking, why are you like that?" "I FIND FREEDOM IN FORM." John meditated on that for a while (om). He didn't think he would get something that well thought-out out of Syphla so he keept his thoughts to himself. PASTA TIME!!! The morning came almost too late to find john riding a minicar on his way to the residence of the Mr. Alex Hanson who was to blame for the workmanship of the pen that sat on John's desk unnoticed for those months before he had woken up to find it there. More like have it shoved in his face by äàã. John found himself wondering as his car wove its way along the rails what kind of liability was involved in operating them. The moved along quite fast and they seemed to have been designed to be light and agile rather than crash-worthy. Should one ram into an obsticle at speed the occupant would most likely be creamed by the incident. YUCK!! John shuddered. With a deep sigh of releaf John stepped out of the car. The building that was marked as Alex's residence was over 300 stories tall. Alex's address included only a sector number. 143NW John got in the Northwest Main Lift which would take him to the 150th floor from where he would then take a local elevator to the 143rd. The lift seemed to have been powered by rockets. The bullet-shaped car had to have been doing more than a 60 miles an hour vertical before the magnetic couple began to ease off. At the Kiosk on Alex's floor John got to thinking about what to say to him once he arrived. What was it to be? "Hi, you dropped your pen." or "Bet you didn't think you'd be seeing me when you woke up this morning!" A simple exclaimation of "Daddy!" wouldn't be too inappropriate. John stopped at the indicated door. He stood outside it staring indecicively. The only question that even began to make any sense was the universal question, "Why?" When he thought about it he came to realize that the answer was staring him in the face. He and Alex were the same. Not that Alex was a digital being but that he wanted the Digital life. Where the population of the city could be counted by one number. Not seperate numbers for cyborgs, mythicals, fancifuls, and naturals. The color and shape and motion and smells of the world had become so much that fantasy and reality had become inverted and all that was left was a huge mass of confusion and fear of death. There were no answers behind that door, just the same longing for sanity and rationality that John felt. Emberased that he had even thought to bother someone about this, He hung his head low and turned to go home. Chapter 7 The measure of a man is not the nest he crawls out of but the mountains he climbs. In New York the road home for people such as John was marked by a flashing red beakon just below Polaris. John followed it as he trudged along the streets in the mists of the night. The City that never slept was enjoying the many pleasures of modern entertainment and the streets were largely quiet. That was how John wanted it. Echos of order and sanity. As he walked along a robot moved in precice motions collecting the trash to be converted back to energy and recycled. That was how it should be. John matched his pace to the lines in the sidewalk. Each foot going just 3 inches past each crack. Just as the sky was beginning to lighten John reached his destination. The entrance hall to the cybernetics core was a swirling corridor of infinite complexity. Only the black path inward lay unchanging. John's footsteps echoed in the cold silence of the cryogenicly cooled computers. In the center of the building was a chamber. Just below the platform John stood on was what could bear no other name than the Vortex of Eternity. It was a swereling abyss that linked the City of Dreams with the Land of Dreams, John's home. All there was to do was to take one step forward. John looked back down the corridor. It was a good world that he was leaving. John considered his motives for leaving this world. He had left the world he had come from because it was inadiquite. Was he about to leave this one because it was too much? He considered again. Why had he left where he had come from? Certainly äàã Had played no small role in getting him started on his road. From there on the journey had been his. The real beginning of the journey had been the week after that when he left on vacation with his family. Before his journey into the world of chaos could be over he would have to complete it with a reenactment of that trip. The car John took up to the mountains didn't just travel over river and through woods, it forced its way through Earth's dense atmosphere driven by a 64 HP electric motor. With the windows up the only sound was the soft whirr of the tires running along the pavement. With it down it was a roar of fierce winds shooting past the car at seventy miles an hour. It was a normal hardtop so john had to settle for leaning a little to the left so he could catch a little bit of that wind on his face and through his hair. The car didn't seem to have the substance of a Standard Motors 317 but it really did move. John reached a resort area with a large population and a large number of semi-perminant visitors. There was a nice lodge along a road that was a few miles west of the main water recreation areas. The place smelled of old wood and had a fire burning for heat. John closed his eyes and smelled it. These were real things that would be here always. He did not have to immagine them and then write them into the script because they were already there. John had lunch and picked up some trail rations and a more appropriate suit of clothes. The trailhead wasn't like the sharp-edged little brown road in the digital world. Instead it was just a noticably more worn path than the untrampled grasses and plants around it. John selected a walking stick and took to the path. About an hour into the hike john noticed that the land was rising more steeply. An hour further up the hill sapped John's strength to the point that there was a stitch in his side and he was forced to rest. He looked at the stick he had been using to help keep his balance on the rough terain. It wasn't just another instance of the "STICK" class, rather it was a completely unique object that could not be duplicated. He looked at the rock he was sitting on. The lichens weren't just a pattern of colors that were termed a "texture" but actually felt fuzzy too. Examining the rock closely didn't cause it to become blockey or pixelated. No matter how close he looked at it he could never hope to see all the detail that he could feel was there. How could anyone give this up? If information+ was money then he, just sitting there, had more wealth around him than he could collect. To not be enraptured by it all would be a crime, an unforgivable one. "Hmpf; They must not have souls." He resumed his climb. The afternoon was wearing on but he decided to continue on to see the sunset. His cramped diaphraghm started bugging him again after another twenty minutes but he forced himself on because he wanted to make sure he was there in time. The terain was very rockey and he had to scale the knareled ancient surface of the rocks which had been there for hundreds of thousands of years rather than having been generated yesterday. With a little help from his walking stick he made it up. At the top there was a giant boulder with just enough handholds for john to scale. When he reached the top he stood. And When he stood he looked he when he looked he saw and he said "This is it." He raised his arms and his eyes to the sky and let the light shine. ... *And he lived for ever after.* + I am using the theoretical definition of information, not the colloquial.