Max sat up with a jolt, coming awake in an instant, and immediately fell off the bench. His chin and cheek bounced twice on the hard concrete with surprisingly little pain. Even without the pain he lay there, on the ground, stunned by the sight of a river rushing past only a few feet away. Instead of water, packets of information flew past in a constant stream of data. Mixed in were random DNS queries that looked like bobbing buoys. What was left was a mass of clear text emails, messages, and erotic sexts. For several long seconds, he tried to come to grips with the sight. Porcelain white concrete formed a sidewalk stretching off into the distance, and a nearby marble bridge spanned the river. Cyber-shops, online businesses and Internet Portals lined the street on both sides. The noise of pinging bouys mixed with the rushing data to form a low but constant electronic song. Max finally stood, dusting himself off, and took stock. He was not in any pain, thankfully, and what he could see of himself looked normal. He was dressed in a cheap black suit and when he checked the pockets, a blue window opened before him.

Three of the 64 slots contained items and the first one was a note. He selected it and a white slip of paper appeared in his hand. Someone had scrawled the words ‘A professional courtesy,’ in a barely legible script. On the backside was a receipt for the Swiss International Online Bank followed by an account and pin number. The total deposit at the bottom was for nine-hundred eighty-two dollars. It was the date on the receipt that caught his attention.

October 30th, 2051

He stared at the number as his mind rolled back the last thing he could remember. Speeding down the street on a cool summer night, a flash of light, and a man in suit. Max couldn’t remember his face, but he recalled giving permission to be digitized. Then… nothing, not a single memory rose to the surface after that. If this receipt was to be believed, four months has gone by.

Although it would be easy to verify the information, that is, if he could find the bank in this strange digital world. He put the note back in his pocket. The inventory window appeared again and he tried to the second item. A small pile of digital coins filled his palm. A single Bitcoin sat heavily next to a chunk of Ethereum, and a smattering of Dogecoins, Ripples, and Tether surrounded it like small change. The last thing in his inventory was a picture of an obituary, his obituary.

Lieutenant, Maxwell Cummings passed away on October 25th after a 4 month long coma. He was an exemplary Navy serviceman who’s life was tragically cut short by a drunk driver. Max is survived by a distraught mother and father along with two younger siblings.

He almost laughed at the last line because Max hadn’t spoken to his father in years, and his mother was high on prescription pills most of time. He highly doubted they even knew of the accident. No, several things still didn’t make sense, like the lapse in his memories. There was also no mention of him being digitized in obituary. Instead, they’d said he had been in a coma for four months which was a load of bullshit.

Behind Max was the entrance to an Italian Cafe. Potted plants, green metal chairs, and large canopied awning sat out under the evening sky. Max, for some reason, had appeared or least woken on the bench outside. The wooden door pushed open at his touch, and he was greeted by the scent of fresh pastries and roasting coffee. He waited for someone to appear, but quickly got bored and slid into an empty seat. A flash of light appeared in the middle of the table with a menu of items.

He selected an espresso from the list along with something random from the pastry section. They appeared instantly on the table along with a tray of sugar, milk, and honey. He picked up the cup and tested the drink. His taste buds were presented with caffeinated perfection. The only thing he would have liked is if it were a touch hotter. Even still, he didn’t feel any more or less thirsty from the beverage. The only reason he’d ordered the food was to chew on something while he thought. He picked up the pastry and was surprised by how perfect the strawberry filled danish tasted. The filling spilled out across his taste buds like a baked grenade.

He put it down.

Did it really matter. He thought dryly. So what he couldn’t remember the last four months? There were longs periods in his childhood he couldn’t remember which was probably for the best. Heck, part of his military career didn’t officially exist, and maybe this was just another example. After all, he was dead.

Maybe he should contact someone? He immediately disregarded his parents. They’d barely cared when he was alive, or worse, they’d ask him for money. His old friends or possibly squad-mates? Hmmm, they’d actually think he was dead. After all, the obituary hadn’t mentioned his ghosting. It would take time to prove who he was and after all that, what would be the point? They’d still be kicking butt and taking names, while he was just a drunk driving statistic.

Someone had given Max a clean slate and he’d be a fool to claw at the threads of his former life. The hero of that story was dead, but still… A little part of him wouldn’t let it go, and he began checking the console again. Max discovered he could make calls from this terminal and request a transport. What that transport was, he wasn’t sure, but seconds after he called one a Gondola pulled up front of the cafe. It was made of black walnut wood with a glowing blue line down the side.

“Huh,” he grunted and drained his cup. Leaving the cafe he walked to the edge of river. Ones and zeroes continued to fly but the thin wooden boat continued to bob against the stream.

A window appeared as he stepped onto the craft asking for a destination and he selected the address for the Swiss bank. However, it only started to move when he slotted a couple of Dogecoins into the box at the rear of the boat. He sank forcefully into the seat as craft shot forward. Bridges and data intersections zipped past in a visual blur. Just when he was getting used to the sensation of movement, the Gondola slowed. It turned down one more intersection before bouncing to a stop next to a squat marble building. He climbed out and the ship took off without him.

When he tried to enter the building the doors refused to open, and he turned in annoyance looking around. An Asian woman with dark hair and fine features was walking away from a cluster of machines.

“Excuse me!?” He called and the woman paused. She had dark hair and almond eyes with a business suit like his on. She looked him up and down impatiently.

“Is this place open?”

“Nani? No, wait…” She said holding up a hand. Something appeared between her fingers and she stuck it into one ear. She looked at him which he took as ascent.

“Is the bank open?” He asked again and the woman stared past him a few seconds.

“No, it is uhhh… holiday. Use machines.” She replied in a clipped Japanese accent. She gestured behind them toward a couple of ATM’s against one wall. It was too bad the woman didn’t speak English well. He might have asked her something else. Especially since this was the first Avatar he’d bumped into. With an exaggerated eye roll, the woman took another device from her inventory and aimed at the river. A Gondola—this one with an oriental dragon perched at the prow—slid up to the bank and she stepped onto the thin boat.

“Not especially helpful, but she had a nice ass,” he mused turning toward the ATM’s. He double checked for anyone else, but the woman had been the sole Avatar nearby. Max stepped up the first machine, dug the note from his inventory, and carefully entered the information. He selected [Check Balance] and a number matching the receipt popped up.

“Print Receipt?” It asked and he quickly pressed [Yes] partly because he wanted to know what day it was. A slip unfurled from a slim mouth under the screen and he tore it free.

______________

Swiss International Bank

Date - 10.31.2051, 11:21pm

Account - ****0231

Balance - 982.00 USD

______________

Unless this was an elaborate hoax, four months really had elapsed. There was no option to withdraw cash so he logged out of the virtual machine, and shoved both slips of paper into his pocket as he walked away.

The real question was, what would Max do now? He strolled down the sidewalk passing a Swiss Alps Ski Resort and a couple websites for local restaurants. The language was unfamiliar, so he kept moving as he considered what to do. His old life was over, which meant we was going to have to find something to do with himself. That naturally led the advantages of his new situation. He’d gone from somewhere in Italy to a Zurich time zone, so maybe he could catch a boat back the American part of the Internet. Then he’d have a better idea of his options. Washington was his home state, but apparently the world was open to him. He could bounce across the globe in a couple of seconds. He’d go someplace new, someplace neutral where memories of his past wouldn’t cloud his new life. Silicon Valley was a good choice, and some local news would be a good place to start. If it was 11pm here, then it was…

Max tried to remember how much time difference there was between Switzerland and the West Coast. Eight hours sounded about right, so he figured it was about 2pm there. He picked up his pace, and after about a block managed to locate a portal sign with some English on it. He called another transport which arrived so quickly it almost seemed precognitient. The boat asked for a destination as he boarded.

“Los Angeles Times,” he said and managed to sit before the boat skidded forward into the data stream. It came a new junction where the size of the stream increased. More Avatars were visible on the river, each headed to their own destination, and Max’s gondola slid into place next a dark skinned man with golden dreadlocks. Sitting next to him were two blond super models. They eyed his basic Avatar before snubbing him, and he wished he’d had more time to admire them, but the data stream suddenly ducked into a dark glass tunnel. The ocean water pressed down on the glass tube above him.

This must be one of the Trans-Atlantic Landlines, he thought. The boat cruised by beluga whales and a great white shark swimming through the dark ocean water. All too soon, the data stream rose again, breaching the waves near the Statue of Liberty. Within seconds the gondola was slipping past a Arizona desert and split towards California. Here the street was made of sun kissed concrete instead of gleaming marble. The boat slowed, altering course towards a squat building of mirrors and television screens. A dozen VR Characters and Avatars like himself were sitting in front of the building which was a good sign. He climbed out of the boat and joined several others in line. Then paid for the paper with some of the spare coins in his inventory. He walked to a stone bench and unfolded the bundle to read the first page.

{Add something about the IRS tracking crypto currenty wallets.} THen add a note about the skyrocketting prices of bitcoin and other coins. Also remove his flippant use of cheap coins to get around.

______________

Los Angeles Times - October 31st, 2051

House Bill 512 passes review.

In a surprising move in the republican majority a controversial house bill passed. This would allow terminally ill patients—except those with diseases concerning the brain—to digitize themselves. Religious sects, including the Sons and Daughters for Purity have stated their outrage at the news. Many question the US position on the practice of assisted suicide by digitization.

Director found Murdered.

Gabe Newell, former Director for Special Projects at VrTek was found shot dead last week in a South San Fransisco Motel. This happened only hours after authorities sought him for questioning in Russian Espionage. Police refused to comment on the nature of the murder, or the suspicious timing.

Tensions Increase.

Chinese and Russian tensions continue to mount as the Russian government continues to bar foreign Denizens from it’s net space. Officials also accuse the Soviet Artificial Service of illegally imprisoning several Chinese Avatars.

Recession Ends, Financial Outlook Good.

October is the third month the Dow Jones has seen a net increase. Unemployment is down, and the housing market is beginning to show signs of growth. Analysts believe this is the beginning of a new bull market.

Star Nova Online takes first place in MMO market.

With competition so great, it’s a market triumph for startup company Skybot Studio’s to snatch the top place in a saturated world of VrMMO’s. Titles such a Nigmus Online, Blood and Pride, Hero Heights, and Samurai Lords have been house hold names for immersive games. Star Nova Online now boasts a player base of over ten million active players, and over half are rumored to be Digital Avatars. Savvy investors point to their proprietary, datashare NPC’s (non-player constructs) for such success. The company has released the following statement.

“We are proud to bring our idea’s to the world. It is our hope to create a place where everyone can experience a completely new universe. As thanks to our fans, we are offering special discounts for those that wish to join us.”

____________

Lots of stuff going on in the real world, he thought dryly. He wasn’t surprised to see China and Russia going at it. They’d been eyeballing each other for years now. The Star Nova Online article peaked his interested as well, especially if so many other Avatars were signing up. Max spent a few minutes scanning the rest of the news but nothing interesting popped out at him. He called another transport, hopped aboard, and sat down.

“Skybot Studio’s,” he said and the boat whisked him down several intersections before stopping at a glass building that stretched around a space elevator. A carbon nano-cable disappeared into the clouds above. He climbed free of the data river for the last time and entered a manicured garden. The scent of roses and honeysuckle filled the air. Birds and small insects flitted between the myriad of plants. Small ponds and hedge mazes dotted the space to his left and right, but a two meter wide stone path cut straight through the grass. He was guided between two glass-fronted office buildings, and toward the elevator.

Employees—not all of them human—boarded a waiting platform. Most were dressed in casual clothes but several five meter tall plant creatures shuffled on at the last minute. Two bipedal robots in dark suits talked animatedly, their binary conversation like a 14k baud modem warbling between them.

There was short sharp siren and a blue forcefield surrounded the platform. Then the entire thing lurched upwards, slowly at first, then faster and faster up the cable. The ground disappeared far below as the platform pierced the clouds. The blue California sky gave way to a cold clear black. Above them, the cable connected to an enormous Halo that circled the earth. Ships of every size and description zipped around the enormous structure. Off to one side, another station shaped like the sword of Damocles floated on solemn sentry duty.

The halo grew in size, and the platform entered through a secured lock. Max stepped to the side of the platform to watch the enormous doors close around the cable. Finally, they slowed to a stop and the forcefield winked off. The employees immediately bustled off the lift like they had places to be and planets to explode. However, as soon as he stepped onto the mirrored floor a flying bot came toward him.

“Good Afternoon, Sir or Madam, and welcome to Skybot Studios. Would you like the guided tour?” It asked in a chipper robotic voice. Max eyed the drone as it bobbed expectantly a few feet away. The top was a flat screen displaying a simple cartoonish face. Under this was a set of small speakers and two thin pincer like arms. The thing flew by two small rotors connected to the base, which gave off a soft hum.

“Where are we?”

“We are in the Main Portal for Skybot Studios. Here you can manage your accounts, purchase subscriptions, buy in game items, or seek GM assistance.”

“Are you interested in the tour?” It asked in a cheerful curiosity.

“Sure,”

The bot let out an excited chirp, spun once, and floated towards a set of long glass windows. “Star Nova Online is set in a fictional universe with a randomly generated seed. Players may choose between four different factions, but there are many alien races fighting for dominion over the stars.” The robot said stopping by the window and gestured outside with a flat metal palm. Several large ships floated in the dock, and Max could see battle damage on at least two of them. Workers were currently crawling along the spaceship’s hull with welders and spare parts. Judging by their scale the ship had to be about three-hundred meters long which would make it about the size of a naval cruiser.

“Players may take on any role be it miner, industrial magnate, warship captain or… pirate lord.” The robot said conspiratorially. It winked at him twice and nudged his shoulder. About thirty meters away a door near the concorse opened and the distinctive rattle of gunfire reached Max’s ears. It was a sound as familiar as his own heartbeat and he turned in it’s direction.

Small caliber submachine gun, he thought to himself. A tall dark skinned man passed through the door which closed after him, and cut off the sound of combat.

“The races available are—”

“What’s through there?” He asked pointing towards the side door. The robot paused turning toward him and it’s eyes tracked his arm.

“Oh, that is the storefront for Gun Meister Online,” It said dismissively. Max didn’t wait for an invitation. He marched passed a group of short furry marsupials in black leather toward the side door. The floating bot trailed Max, making noises.

Inside was an armory crossed with a seedy dive bar. Hanging on the walls were firearm schematics and grainy polaroids of smiling people. He approached the bar which was made of tempered glass. Under the glass were a variety of pistols, grenades, and a scattering of loose bullets. Nobody was in evidence so he sank onto an empty stool. A massive television hung on the wall opposite and it was from here the sound was coming.

A woman—barely out of her teens with dark grey hair—crouched next a bullet riddled pillar. She wore a dark blue jacket with the hood drawn over her head, and a custom painted HnK UMP was clutched in her hands. A monsoon was pissing rain onto a bombed out street which seriously hindering visibility. Max hunched forward, putting his elbows on the bar becoming absorbed. Even though the girl looked young her orange colored eyes scanned the street like a seasoned soldier. Rain pattered off every surface filling the air with a constant sound of drumming.

Slowly she drew a magazine from a thigh pouch and reloaded her weapon. Then crept two pillars forward toward the street. The dead body of a large man lay just on the other side. Hanging from his chest bandoleer were three smoke grenades. The woman tugged the first free which popped the pin out, and tossed it into the street. After a few seconds, a cloud of grey smoke began to spew, and gunfire erupted from the second story building on the opposite side. Un-aimed fire tore through the rain chewing up concrete and asphalt. The girl continued to kneel against the pillar, and tossed two more of the grenades onto the street. Then she dragged the heavy corpse through the smoke.

More gunfire shattered the night as the camera tried to follow the woman’s progress through the haze. Almost a minute passed before the rain and wind carried enough of the smoke away to see through. The barely visible corpse of a large man lay in the street. A figure covered in gray strips stepped up to the window. He leaned out aiming down at the man in the street. That’s when the woman fired from across the street. Rounds tore apart his chest tracing a line up to his right shoulder. The weapon he held dropped to the wet concrete below as he sagged in the broken window.

“Oh, we have a customer. Sorry, I just came on shift and didn’t see anyone here.”

“I’m surprised you work since it’s a holiday,” Max replied.

“Thank you, but I’m a Non-Player Construct. It tickles my fancy whenever someone makes that mistake.” She said sliding behind the bar. The woman was uncommonly beautiful with long lavender colored hair. She had deep blue eyes like sparkling sapphires and a precocious smile. It must have a battle to squeeze herself into those tight fitting jeans and a black tanktop. Her arms were bare showing off a collection of flowery tattoos.

“You’re an AI?”

“Not in the strict definition of the word, but some people still use it,” She replied with a smile.

“You serve drinks too?” Max asked letting his eyes drift over her body again.

“That we do! It’s free, so pick any poison you like,” she said pulling a coaster out and dropping it onto the bar.

“Whiskey Sour and some advice.” He said leaning forward again and putting his elbows on the glass. The woman pulled glass free for a stack and filled it with ice, two shots of whiskey, lime juice and drizzle of syrup. The even dropped a lime twist on top for effect before pushing the drink towards him.

“What life advice can this simple bargirl drop on you?”

“I’m trying to find something to do,” he admitted.

“Just got turned?” She asked.

“Turned?”

“Crossed over, zapped, digitized. I don’t mean to be rude, but freshly made Avatars have a way looking at everything like a newborn baby.” She said pointing at his untouched glass. “Drink,” she commanded as she put the bottles back. Max picked up the drink examining the greenish concoction. The lime slice had worked its way between the ice and was sitting on the bottom. He drank half feeling the alchohal burn the back of his throat. His stomach grew hot, but he set the rest on the bar.

“This won’t get me drunk, will it?”

“Not hardly, but they’re still tasty.”

“What is that?” He asked pointing up at the screen. The girl was gone and the scene had changed over to a firefight in a thick forest.

“This is Gun Meister.”

“Why are you here in on star base?”

“The company wants to push their flagship game. Star Nova is doing quite well and they want to impress visitors, so our little cantina was tucked off into one corner.”

“Are you interested in joining?” She asked after a moments pause.

“What’s it about?”

“Individual and small squads take part in death matches. The better you do the higher your rank increases, and the more guns you can register with. You’re lucky, actually. There’s a special event taking space for Halloween. It’s frightfully fun.” She said in a spooky voice. Max polished off the second half of his Whiskey Sour, then picked out the lime slice and sucked on the tart fruit.

“How much?”

“It’s free to join and you get thirty days before you pay anything. Afterward, it depends on what your willing to invest. There are several packages from monthly up to a lifetime membership. You’ll have to add a credit card or bank account, but you’ll be warned a few days before your time is up.”

“Thirty days will give me enough time to figure something out,” he mused aloud.

The woman drew a thick tablet out from behind the bar and set it down. “Let me help you create an account.” She said and pushed the it toward him. While he worked on an account she fixed him another Whiskey Sour. He added the bank information from his receipt and an old email address. Afterward she handed him a small flat device which looked similar to the one the woman at the bank had. It was about three inches by four inches.

“This will let you connect to the game when you’re in the Skybot Portal. Outside, it’ll call a transport that will take you the login servers. If you lose it, you can come back here to request another.”

Max drained his glass. “Thanks, so uh… do you accepts tips?”

“I accept all manor of sweet nothings,” She replied with a wink. Max pressed the button and the world dissolved around him. The bar faded into black as the music whispered into stuttering silence.