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Tactical Sgt. IceroyaleParticipant
So, I decided to start writing again. I don’t yet know where I’m going with this, but I’ll just write it as it pops up. Here’s the first part.
9 AM, January 10th, 2068. Another dull, grey morning. Another dull, grey day. One cup of coffee. Two slices of bread with cheese. The daily breakfast allowance. Jon sat at the table, looking out the window. Blocks, ugly great blocks of buildings as far as the eye could see. Housing blocks, he knew. There wasn’t any need for anything else nowadays. No need for offices, no need for recreational centres. No need for nature. Nature. A word that had lost all meaning now. More than twenty years had passed since last he had seen a real tree, when his parents had taken him on a camping trip. One of his earliest memories. Two years before the invention of the Link.
The Link. The virtual world they lived in now. They still ate, slept and woke up in the physical world, but everything else was done in the Link. Offices had become obsolete, and forests were slowly replaced by atmospheric recycling plants. It had eliminated poverty. It had eliminated war. Conflicts were all fought in the Link now, in controlled enviroments. No unneccesary casualties, no widespread destruction. Clean. The Link had optimised their way of life, driven it to the peak of efficiency. Jon knew all this. And still, for a reason even he did not know, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the grey bleakness, and he didn’t like how his muscles atrophied time and time again, only offset by the annual medical maintenance. For all intents and purposes, they were parts of a machine. Or at least, that’s how it felt to him.
Sighing to himself, Jon sat himself down in the Intellipod, put on the Link helmet and signed on. The helmet immediatly calibrated itself and took over his motor and sensory impulses. This ensured he wouldn’t start moving in the pod while in the Link. The familiar menu popped up, in the form of a crossroads. He took the road labeled ‘office’ and within 10 steps, he was stepping into the virtual platform that was his office. A large, square room divided into cubicles. He immediatly located the one he would be using today, sat down and switched on his terminal. Strangely, instead of the familiar readouts, there was only one thing on the screen. A single message. “Would you like to play a game?”
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