The Metaverse: Virtual Life-Real Death Read online

Alex stared at Patricia as he placed the bottle back on the table near the candle which reflected its flickering light off it.

  “Well you do look a little pale, are you sure you feel ok? I hope no one slipped anything into your glass.”

  Patricia laughed it off, not sure what to make of the strange comment.

  “Really, are you ok?” Alex pressed.

  Patricia wondered what Alex was thinking. “Really Alex, what are you going on about? Is there something wrong with your screen or controls or environment?”

  MD smiled as he watched Patricia and listened to his digital partner interact with her.

  “No Patricia, there is nothing wrong with mine. However, there is something wrong with yours, something terribly wrong. You even look different now. I’m not sure that blue dress fits a middle age man. Does it, Dr. Sullivan?”

  Pat Sullivan took a moment to process what he just heard before his anger took over. “Who the hell are you? How do you know my name? Are you some bored hacker with nothing else to do?”

  “I think we should go now,” Alex said.

  Patrick Sullivan glared. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m having my assistant call the authorities right now. This in an invasion of privacy and criminal harassment!” Sullivan shouted, but no one other than Alex and MD could hear him now.

  Alex gave a blank stare before MD spoke through him. “Would that be your assistant Adam?”

  Dr. Sullivan glared and then tried to lunge across the table, forgetting that it was all virtual. MD laughed before speaking through Alex again.

  “Enough games, my good doctor. It’s time to get serious.”

  In an instant, everything went black in Pat Sullivan’s H-Pod, and he felt himself suddenly go prone as the H-Pod rotated. The exoskeleton pulled his body taut as it stretched him at the ankles and wrists now pulled now over his head, pulling him into a fully horizontal position. He had no control over his movement.

  Sullivan screamed the verbal escape commands and then Adam’s name to no avail. Unable to move with his body stretched out to the point that it was uncomfortable in the pitch blackness Sullivan fought back against a rising tide of panic.

  After a minute or so the lights came back on. Pat Sullivan was no longer in the restaurant. He was in some small room and secured in a flat position. Overhead, he could see himself on a monitor, or rather Patricia, dressed as she had been in the hotel dining room. She was stretched out on a table, secured at the wrists and ankles by thick leather bindings. Those digital bindings were very real to Sullivan in his H-Pod.

  He could hear Alex speaking, but it wasn’t to him. It was as if he was narrating something. Sullivan tried to say something to him, but his words were muffled. Tape also covered his Patricia’s mouth.

  Sullivan followed Alex on the monitor. He moved to a large crank near Patricia’s feet. The ratchet clicked as Alex spun it. Worse, he felt the exoskeleton pulling him so tightly now that he could hardly move, or breathe, as his lungs and chest cavity constricted with the stretching of his body.

  Sullivan used what breath he could muster to yell the voice commands that would summon Adam. He wondered what kind of sick joke this was or where this Alex character was going with it, but he knew that he was safe in his H-Pod. The stretching of the exoskeleton notwithstanding.

  It must be within the safety limits. Sullivan tried to assure himself.

  The rip of a chainsaw coming to life and then cutting out filled the room and Sullivan’s ears. Alex’s silhouette appeared, holding the large cutting device as its powerful electric engine revved up and down.

  Sullivan laughed. “What is that supposed to do scare me into giving you my bank account number or some other information that you think is valuable?”

  “You twisted hacker loser fuck!” Sullivan finished yelling after taking a moment to catch his breath.

  While Sullivan could hear his words clearly in the sim, to Alex they were muffled noises. Not that it mattered.

  Alex moved the chainsaw over Sullivan’s waist. Sullivan struggled to move, but could not, wondering how this asshole got control of his unit through some hacker magic. The chainsaw, as real as it looked, did not frighten Sullivan. It was a digital creation and could not harm him.

  The chainsaw again roared to life. MD struggled with the weight of the machine as he lowered the roaring machine onto Sullivan’s H-Pod where the two halves connect. He accelerated the chainsaw with its diamond-tipped teeth to its maximum RPMs.

  Sullivan felt an increasingly strong vibration in the H-Pod. He assumed that the SecondSkin and the H-Pod were cooperating with the scene as best as their electronic brains could, to keep the realism. All too real for him even now as Alex began to cut into Patricia. The area of the vibration grew scorching hot. The heat intensified until he felt it burning his skin. A moment after the hot teeth of the chainsaw ripped into him. Sullivan began to scream both in horror and in agonizing pain.

  It only took the chainsaw a few moments of cutting to get through the outer plastic shell of the H-Pod and then a few more to get through the exoskeleton. The second skin offered no resistance and soon blood was spraying from the increasingly deep cut.

  MD blinked through Sullivan’s screams as he kept cutting, relieved that the doctor’s body was supporting the saw. It was much heavier to maneuver than he anticipated. The blood was now a torrent and sprayed back over him and onto the walls. Eventually, the blood spray and screams subsided and he realized that he was now cutting through the bottom of the H-Pod. As the chainsaw broke through, the H-Pod separated dropping down at an angle as it disgorged large chunks of what had been the torso of a human being onto the floor. Parts of the body remained, such as the arms and legs held fast by the exoskeleton. The part that MD was most unprepared for was how white and prominent the spine was as it pointed sharply downward, contrasted by a red mess of flesh, blood, and organs.

  MD killed the chainsaw motor and dropped it onto the floor. He had no intention of taking it with him. He quickly walked out of the H-Pod room and went to an adjacent bathroom with a full shower. He turned it on and stood under the head as the water washed the blood and other human remains off the suit. Satisfied he had removed most if not all the human matter, he turned the water off and then used two towels to wipe down the suit. Leaving the towels there, he left the bathroom then made his way upstairs to the kitchen and then out into the garage.

  Once there he removed the Haz-Mat suit, carefully pulling it off him from the inside so as to not touch his inner coveralls to avoid any contamination from what was on the outer suit. He carefully placed the suit in a large garbage bag which he in turn put into another one. MD stood next to the passenger seat as he then removed the plastic booties and then the coveralls before placing them into yet another garbage bag followed by the mask and gloves then put that bag into another one before putting both bags into the trunk. He wanted no residue from his vehicle and would remove the inner bags later when he disposed of them then dispose of the outer bags at another location some distance away.

  He knew that having the bags with him could incriminate him but would take that short-term risk to make certain that nothing was left behind that came into contact with his body or the interior of his car.

  MD was sure no trace would be left and was feeling a surge of adrenaline again. But this time rather than having an urge to use the bathroom it was a feeling of euphoria.

  If he hadn’t been experiencing that natural high, he might have felt the wetness in the crotch of his pants and the dribble of urine running down his leg as he entered the passenger side of his car. He instructed the car to take him to the mall to get an actual GPS ping before taking him back to his hotel as the car backed out of the garage and into the street before it drove off.

  Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, Artesia, New Mexico

  Finishing his morning run in the already rising temperatures of the southern New Mexico landscape, Dominic Argosi stopped just outside of the FLETC gym to take in th
e solid blue sky and the shimmering sun of the new day. Feeling the warmth on his skin and inhaling the fresh air he wondered why anyone would want to trade this for a digital replica? After catching his breath and reminding himself how he loathed the idea of “living digitally,” Argosi showered and dressed and made the short walk from the gym to his office

  Dominic Argosi sat down at his desk. He placed two of his fingers on the edge. His fingerprints and other biometric data told the system who he was and what, if anything, he could activate. His monitor and some other holographic items came to life.

  Argosi, as he did most every day, began his administrative duties by looking at the training schedule displayed on his monitor. Behind him on the wall were some plaques for this accomplishment or that. Taking up most of the wall space, however, were numerous pictures depicting teams of officers in units that he had been a part of, supervised or commanded.

  His monitor showed digital pictures of his wife and kids lining the edges and rotated through preselected or random loops. The digital images, technically part of the monitor, were separate and stayed on regardless of what was viewed on the screen.

  They appeared just as if they were hard copies of photographs taped to the edges at different angles, all realistically three-dimensional. A few yellow sticky notes with reminders also jutted out from the sides. Like the family photographs they were digital but rendered to look like real sticky notes attached to the edges.

  Argosi flipped to an upcoming schedule. He studied it for a moment and then picked up a pencil. On his desk just in front of the monitor a keyboard, which was, in fact, a hologram, sat with glowing keys and command functions. To the left of the keyboard was a yellow holographic pad. Argosi wrote a quick note and tapped it. The top sticky note flew from the pad to the monitor’s edge.

  Argosi sat back in his chair taking a sip of his nearly ever-present coffee. Satisfied that the schedule was as it should be, he glanced over to his mobile digital platform. The holographic extension of his phone lay on the desktop next to the digital keyboard.

  He tapped the screen which expanded and lifted up to an angle off the desk for easier viewing. An 11x8-display screen with various icons appeared. Argosi tapped on the one with the “USA Today” logo.

  The paper took holographic form above the desk and came into sharp view, with its brilliant colors and HD pictures which became videos of the story if desired. The interactive desk made all of these extensions of his phone or other devices expandable and viewable even though the actual application was running from Argosi’s phone clipped to his belt.

  Argosi’s gaze settled on one of the headlines: “Denver Doc Murdered in Metaverse.”

  The headline made no sense to Argosi. Yes, people could die who happened to be online in the Metaverse. But since their physical bodies were not in the Metaverse, if they were to meet their demise, that had to occur in the real world.

  Technology, culture, and digital living had so melded in recent years that people had stopped making distinctions between what was real and what was digital. Most likely the journalist reporting on this story was a tech writer for the publication and was, in fact, himself reporting from in-world.

  As Argosi read more, he felt vindicated in his criticism for that lack of distinction in the headline. The victim had been savagely attacked while in his H-Pod two evenings ago. The scene was a gruesome one where the victim had been cut in two with a chainsaw. Police were releasing few other details including any possible motive or suspects.

  “Jesus,” Argosi whispered to himself but apparently loud enough for Keyton, who had just walked into his office, to hear.

  “Yup, that’s probably who the good doctor is meeting with at this very moment. Trying to explain why he was unhappy with his God-given gender and had to go around with lipstick on.”

  Keyton plopped down on the side of Argosi’s desk and twisted his neck to see the article. Argosi shifted only his eyes to glare at Keyton.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Keyton toyed with his coffee cup now. “You haven’t seen the video? It’s all over the internet.”

  “What video are you talking about?”

  Steve Keyton shot a puzzled look at Argosi. “Man, you need to keep up with current events in the Metaverse if you are ever going to be a POG in a field office.”

  Argosi frowned and went back to his original question. “Steve, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “The murder, it was done live. In the Metaverse and recorded and sent out to anyone with a Digital-Life account including us. The murderer claims he will strike again, randomly and without warning. The only way to ensure you are not a victim is to pay a ransom.” Keyton’s voice trailed off as he seemed to be thinking out loud now.

  “The ransoms not that much when you think about it, but times a few billion if everyone paid, that would be uh, well it would be a lot of billions.” Keyton, obviously not able to do the complicated math of Metaverse currency into dollars, stopped while he was ahead.

  Argosi sighed. “Has everyone gone insane? The Metaverse is a fucking video game. It’s not real. It just seems that way to the mentally challenged.”

  Argosi took another swig of his coffee before speaking again. “The victim was cut in half in the real world, by a real world chainsaw. That means the offender still had to physically break into his house and assault him and kill him the old-fashioned way. Granted, when you are all sealed up in your play toy that can be a rather easy thing to do. But it did not happen ‘live’ as you say in the Metaverse. It happened in the real world. By a real person. Most likely to scare people into paying him or her the ransom.”

  “Oh, it’s definitely a him.” A third voice interjected in the form of Dave Leonard. He helped himself to another chair in front of Argosi’s desk.

  “And his name is Alex. We have the video of him doing the deed.” Leonard sat down.

  “You mean the guy in the real world holding the actual chainsaw?”

  Leonard shook his head before answering. “No. He or she hasn’t been ID’d yet. But the guy in the video who cuts the chick in half and then demands the ransom, his name is Alex.”

  “It’s not a real chick!” Both Argosi and Keyton shouted, almost in unison at Leonard, but for different reasons.

  Keyton having read the story already knew the victim was a male. Argosi disputed the notation that anyone was real in the Metaverse, let alone a murder victim.

  “Well, in the video it’s a chick.” Leonard replied, looking sheepish as he put his hands up as if to deter any further verbal assault. “Here take a look,” Leonard tapped his watch, sending the video to Argosi.

  Instantly a notification popped up on his monitor asking Argosi if he wanted to accept and open the video sent to him.

  The video began after Argosi gave permission. It started with a disclaimer scrolling from the top warning that the images to follow are “Real, graphic and may be disturbing to some viewers. Viewer discretion advised.” The disclaimer was followed by a series of sentences in different languages. The first one was in English, the language preference indicated by the account the video had been sent to and read: “The information contained herein is presented to you in the language indicated in your settings.”

  Argosi knew this was a standard practice and waited for the disclaimer to finish. As he did so, Argosi wondered if that disclosure was placed there by the perp, or whoever distributed the video?

  “Where’d you get this?” Argosi asked.

  “Right out of the account here in training, in an email sent by Alex,” Leonard responded.

  Argosi frowned. He was getting sick of hearing about Alex already.

  After the disclosure ran, an image of a male appeared. The man looked to be in his mid-30’s to early 40’s. A hint of gray in his otherwise full thick head of black hair.

  The man was sitting in a comfortable looking brown leather chair which didn’t look worn but didn’t look new either. The man was c
lean cut and well groomed. Dressed in a well-tailored gray business suit, white shirt and a blue tie looking directly into the camera. He waited a moment before smiling. After another brief pause, he began.

  “Hello. My name is Alex Reynolds; I am a resident of New Polis.”

  Argosi let out an audible laugh. “This guy thinks he resides in New Polis?”

  Reynolds continued. “Let me begin by apologizing for any inconvenience this short presentation may be causing as you take time out of your busy day to view it. It is, however, essential so that you may protect yourself and your loved ones. Or perhaps employees or even customers who may enter into the Metaverse from this or other accounts with Digital-Life that you may control.”

  Reynolds rose from his chair, turned to his right and walked along the wall which had an unremarkable painting of a landscape on it that he passed. He continued to a closed wooden door with a cherry wood stain finish that contrasted against the eggshell white color of the walls. Reynolds stopped and faced the camera. He placed his right hand into his pant pocket before he began speaking again.

  “By now you may have heard of the horrific death of Doctor Patrick Sullivan of Boulder Colorado.” Reynolds paused for effect before continuing.

  “Dr. Sullivan, or as he preferred to be known here in New Polis, Patricia, was a man of healing. His death, while not avoidable, was nonetheless unfortunate. Unfortunate for him, the patients he treated, the community he served and most importantly for his friends and of course especially the family and loved ones he leaves behind.”

  Alex then took his right hand from his pocket and placed it on the doorknob, turned it and pushed the door open just an inch or two. He paused and pivoted back towards the camera.

  “I must warn you, what you are about to see is real. It is also very graphic, and no doubt will disturb a great many of you. Nonetheless, it is necessary to convey the absolute seriousness of this situation. Please do not let this happen to you or someone you care about.”

  Alex turned back towards the door, pushing it fully open. He walked ahead of the camera following him inside. The room had the same eggshell white paint on the walls as the hallway outside. It contrasted with the moldings that, like the door, were finished in a cherry wood stain. The room was well lit, but no windows were in view. The floor was made up of light-colored large square ceramic tiles.