“Welcome to Immortal Frontier, brave adventurer!”

An affectionate female voice greeted Carl into the game's staging area after he went through a long and arduous calibrating process – and he didn't like its timbre at all.

“Well … I guess I was expecting too much.”

Carl heard this kind of voice so many times before, especially in advertisements. Individually tailored and gender specific, appealing to base instincts, slightly erotic. Designed to manipulate the consumers, and thus devoid of all substance. Fake.

She just as well might have said “I only care about your business, I couldn't care less about you, so please, don't be a bother, and let me wring you dry, bag of meat,” in this pretentious tone.

“Where's the gently soothing, noble Valkyrie? Instead, they present me with a cheap tramp … so much for Cybercore's integrity.”

His first impression failing, Carl wasn't optimistic, but he knew it was going to be uphill all the way, so he was undeterred. He was long aware of the disgraceful practices of those in power, both in public and in private sector, which essentially harmed everyone around them for no good reason.

In Ethereal Empire, however, Carl found the society itself to be a tremendously fun place – a massive advantage of money based games, which organically barred trolls and immature jerks, displaying the individual competence of each player out in the open. It was full of responsible and intelligent people, who – despite competing with each other for limited resources – were often cultured, trustworthy and friendly, forming very tight cliques, even to the point, where they lent each other virtual items worth fortune without collateral.

Sure, many scorned such actions, calling them reckless and foolish, eagerly anticipating an opportunity to be bestowed such trust, so that they could steal the goods and run away. But knowing, that there were still so many people who valued honor above money, was a warm and inspiring feeling.

“The final verdict isn't out yet. It's up to the players now.”

Carl proceeded to create his character, and even though the hour was late, he couldn't wait to witness the tutorial area and talk with other hopeful denizens, a significant percentage of whom were undoubtedly migrants from Ethereal Empire, possibly even some old acquaintances.

The technology was amazing, as he already experienced during the calibration process. If the step from a traditional, flat computer screen to an audio-visual VR cabin was a giant leap, then going from non-intrusive VR to full-dive VR was mind-blowing. It was in development for ages, since it had to pass many rigorous compliance and safety tests, but now it was finally on the open market.

Initially it began exclusively as a neural implant application, but this utility wasn't going to leave labs and medical facilities any time soon. The necessity of a complex brain operation would be an impossible barrier for commercial use, and the nature of the hardware, which was overwriting the sensory input through the individual nerves, entirely hijacking them, was an unforgiving liability, and a final nail to the coffin.

It was just too expensive and too dangerous, and this would not change any time soon.

That's why a neural electromagnetic interference system was subsequently developed, which superimposed the digital input over the sensory pathways on one side, while reading and then neutralizing the motor commands going out through the brainstem on the other – but only those, that were formulated in sync with the software.

It may sound complicated, but it simply boiled down to a much safer way of handling one's perception of reality.

The image, audio, even smell, taste and touch, were all induced through electromagnetic excitation straight into the sensory nerves and the brainstem, giving a ghostly feeling to the whole experience. The subject could sense both realities at once, but if they lied calmly in bed in complete darkness, surrounded by silence, they would quickly forget the real and only focus on the virtual sensations. And if need be, they could still hear alarms and other people talking to them – so long as they didn't turn on noise canceling – as well as feel touch, warmth, cold, pain, hunger and thirst, or smell smoke.

They could still move their bodies, as well – that's what the calibration process was for. The software was hard-wired to identify, which commands was the user sending to his real body, leaving them be, and which ones were meant for his virtual avatar, neutralizing them as they were going out through the brainstem, in a similar fashion to noise canceling, superimposing peaks with troughs and vice versa, until both signals equaled each other out, so that the real body would remain motionless and safe, while the avatar moved about.

Naturally, the fact of a serious responsibility encumbering both the user and the service provider remained. After all, this method could still be adopted to puppeteer the users with malicious software. Only, because of much inferior realism, they would immediately recognize what's going on and shut the power down, or trigger automated panic response systems, which would do it for them.

The action of powering the device off was also harmless, as it would merely stop the neural interference, instantly restoring innate senses.

Nonetheless, the risks were always there with such intimate human-machine interface. For example, most signals coming out of the brain were actually related to the various life support systems of the human body, and although this invention was a blessing for countless patients who required their vitals to be readjusted and regulated, those signals could absolutely not be messed with in healthy individuals.

… For this reason, no government would ever allow minors to have uninhibited access to such toys.

“You may call me L.I.S.A, or Elizabeth, to avoid my misinterpretation of your commands,” the obnoxious voice continued.

“I'd rather just call you 'System',” Carl interjected.

“Very well. Please, state your name now. Each player is required to have a full name consisting of at least two components, and no two players can have identical full names. Choose wisely, since you will not be able to change it, unless you reset your account. You are also not allowed to use your real name, or names that are offensive, or names that are an attempt at trolling others. Failure to comply might result in a disciplinary action, as well as in an administrative fee, a penalty fee, or account suspension.”

Carl glanced at his account details.

Richard Hart, age 81.

“Well, if they catch me, then so be it. I can only try.”

He applied for the helmet just before Uncle Richie passed away, using a brief moment of lucidity to get the man to sign up for Immortal Frontier. His uncle was well aware of what the electronic form was for, but he also knew how much it meant for Carl. He just wanted what was best for the boy, trusting in his maturity.

“You give them hell, Carl,” he said weakly, but with full conviction, looking straight into the youth's eyes.

“I will, Uncle Richie. I will.”

That's what he was planning to do all along.

Carl still had his uncle's documents, and since all man-made systems were imperfect, he tried his luck verifying their scanning abilities. He made the payment just before the deadline for the first wave of original Cybercore helmets elapsed, and … it went through.

Absent any response for a month, he was afraid of the worst, when the box finally arrived. The company might not have expected such rampant demand, which exceeded all expectations. They even created a consortium with many reputable partners all over the globe a few years prior and set their own prices high, specifically for this reason – so they wouldn't be overrun when the time came.

But their fortune was just too good. Everyone wanted their product, as it was of top quality, and presumably the most safe and secure. Especially if one wanted to opt in for pain realism. It was already common knowledge, that Cybercore planned Immortal Frontier with those brave people in mind, designing additional benefits for them – or rather, only those players would get the full experience, while others would have various penalties imposed on them, ranging from reduced gains to restricted access, depending on how they set their sliders.

Of course, that wasn't everything. After all, there were also gaming cabins for the rich, and Cybercore was the only one to offer implant-based VR at the time, the same that Carl got to taste at Bellator Labs, only with far less computing power. Understandably, this had to be Cybercore's top priority. And because of this, Carl now didn't have to worry about compatibility issues between the helmet and the implants in his head, confident that they should remain inert, as such was their design feature for the cabin users who traveled.

At last he was in.

Now he just needed to be careful, so that his account didn't get suspended until he came of age, or worse, banned for illegal impersonation.

“If you have trouble deciding, may I assist you?” the beguiling voice offered. “Please, tell me about yourself and your desires, so I may compile some reco–”

“No need,” Carl waved his hand in annoyance.

“I wonder how many people have already gotten their gear and created their characters. Can't be too many, right? Okay, this is a long shot, but let's try.”

“Arthur Pendragon!”

“I'm sorry, this name is already taken.”

“Of course,” Carl sighed.

“You may, however, use Arthur Pendragon with additional components,” the AI suggested.

“Nah, that would be lame,” Carl said to himself.

“I fully agree. Such lack of originality would be detrimental to the experience of all the players and spoil the immersion.”

Carl raised his brows, taken aback.

“Wow, if only they implemented multiple announcer packs. This AI is quite something, I have to admit.”

“Can you tell me how many players have already created their avatars?”

“This is the counter of currently registered player characters,” the system informed, as a number was displayed in front of Carl's vision.

144 530 425.

144 530 682.

144 530 933.

Carl laughed at himself quietly.

“Silly me.”

The demo version only went live on Friday afternoon, so it was up for a little over two days, during which Carl was preparing himself for his challenge and attended the lab for implant insertion. He purposely didn't check the news, so as not to ruin his mood in those key moments.

Now, he completely forgot about all the other brands. There was China, India, Japan, Korea … . The vast majority of those numbers were surely from Asia. Then, there was a fair amount of old-school equipment in circulation as well, which could also be used to play the game, albeit with maximum penalties.

That's how it was deceptively advertised on the city screens all over the world – poor guy starts small, makes some profit, upgrades his helmet, makes more, finds friends, forms a guild, buys an implant-based cabin, evolves into a fabled warrior, all the ladies fawn over him, and he swims in money in real life. A similar version was made for a young girl, who turns into a lithe ranger and enjoys inordinate popularity as an unstoppable assassin clad in skin tight leathers whilst mighty and handsome guys prostrate before her, as well as for middle aged men, women, and even for the elderly, achieving illustrious prosperity as crafters, managers, mighty wizards, beautiful sorceresses, and what not.

But Carl knew full well how difficult it was to realize such a dream. Only the elite few could, while everyone else paid for their success. 90% was going to lose, 9% was going to win some scraps, 0.9% was going to make an average living, and the remaining 0.1% was going to have it good.

If not worse. That strongly depended on the additional revenue the game would generate, as there was bound to be a massive amount of product placement, and not just the virtual kind, since VR had become a common entertainment, social, and news-sharing medium at this point. Immortal Frontier might also lend its platform to outside events, if the financial incentive was there.

Real cash economy games were investment-hungry beasts, which would grow rapidly so long as they generated business, but quickly wither and die as soon as they fell into a negative feedback loop. Particularly during booms, they resembled a pyramid scheme. Everyone knew, that the bubble would burst eventually, but they also gambled on being able to withdraw their winnings before that happened. This mentality further reinforced the process of collapse.

The only way to create a stable RCE was to give it substance – that is, to make it a cherished home for the players.

“Let's hope Cybercore knows what they're doing. But with this, it'll be almost impossible to get a cool name …”

Carl sighed in trepidation.

“Richard Lionheart!”

“I'm sorry, but you cannot use your real name.”

Carl snorted with laughter. That was really funny!

“Okay, is Charles Lionheart taken?”

“It is available. Would you like to be called Charles Lionheart?”

Carl smiled and shook his head, dazzled and amused.

“Alright, Jin, you'll get your wish!”