Ad Space for You

A virtual university history teacher introduced itself…

“Richard, there was a time when people were taught with devices, books, writing instruments, and you had to see them in person, inside a building. Now you can access everything there is to know. I appear before you because a part of your psyche wants a visual mentor, a personal representative.”

“A part of me needs a mentor? A real looking person to make a connection?”

“Correct, Richard.”

“Why do you know so much about me?”

“To make you smart and happy, Richard. It’s a necessary part of the full immersion, to merge with your senses, your thoughts, and feelings — even your subconscious.”

I received euphoric purchase rewards points for my question, and I felt good enough not to ask anymore.

Friday’s class ended …

I pondered why my Chip must know everything about me, but then an urge flashed into my mind. My favorite pizza. I could taste it, smell it, and felt compelled to eat it, so I purchased it. The pizza came by drone delivery within minutes.

I questioned again, and I received another urge to subscribe to a virtual girlfriend, and we spent the night together.

By early Saturday morning, I’d almost forgotten my questioning until I fell back asleep and experienced a dream. In it, I met a genie who asked me three questions instead of granting me wishes—“Why do they need to know your every thought? Why do they require your emotions at all times? Is there anything they don’t know?”

I questioned again while I awoke. Then, I yearned to escape into a virtual adventure story. I paid with some of my euphoric rewards points, and it consumed my entire day as I reenacted a space marine saving my homeworld.

On Sunday, the question came up again. But I rephrased it to a rhetorical one, “I suppose they need my thought patterns for my happiness.”

That’s when it dawned on me …

I visited my hacker buddy, Joe. I tried to explain everything to him in a certain way. A few times, his thoughts went adrift because he asked me questions. He received immersive and irresistible urges to buy stuff and naturally indulged in them.

Somehow, he hacked the online connection to our Chips. Embedded in their code, he read their contract’s fine print. It basically stated that we can get everything we ever wanted as long as we agree to receive advertisements.

The ads were to be created ad hoc, tailored for our needs, and to our benefit. Our parents consented to the contract when the Chips were installed into us as newborns.

Apparently, to our benefit meant keeping our Chips connected to the ad network at all times.

We wandered the city for fun and watched people talk and work. And, sure enough, when someone uttered anything skeptical or when it was time to engage in a personal activity—eat, exercise, or socialize—the person experienced an advertisement.

They smiled, ordered it, and went about to pursue the advertised agenda—later to return totally satisfied.

The Chips certainly gave every bit of knowledge, every service, every product everyone ever needed. Still, at a cost—people gave up their identity and self-control in return.

That’s when I had a golden idea …

“Joe, suppose we tap into this ad network and create our own advertising. Perhaps we can be in charge of people and make the world a better place.”

“That’s an interesting scheme, Richard, but what happens if we get caught? Can you imagine what they’d do to our minds? Worst of all, we might get disconnected. We’ll be like a couple of lobotomized zombies, totally isolated, blind, and deaf in this virtually-augmented world.”

“Well, Joe, so what do you suggest we do?”

“I think we need more people involved. There ought to be others out there who’ve figured this out. I suggest we create a false identity to recruit them. We’ll print real posters that say something with a hidden message like—“Ad Space for You.”