I woke up from the stun gun just in time to meet my court appointed lawyer. He seemed a decent sort and seemed honestly sad when he informed me that my chances of getting out of prison again were about the same as a pound of bacon going uneaten in a dog kennel. He got them to drop the counterfeiting charge, but it didn't make a difference.

“Mr. Haram,” the judge boomed from the bench, her voice a cross between a disapproving mother and a prophet foretelling the end, “you have robbed the state of its justice an flouted the law for far too long. Since you have made clear that traditional prison will not suffice, it is not without a sense of irony that I sentence you to the Peltech Virtual Labor Camp, where you shall spend the rest of your natural life in indenture to those you have wronged.”

I was in shock, a virtual reality prison. I had heard of such things but didn't think they were real. I pictured myself languishing in some parody of a medieval dungeon, tended by guards who wouldn't even talk to you because no one thought to program them to, and unable to even scratch my name into the wall because the math won't let me. But wait, she said labor, what was I to do, is this why customer service people sound so monotone? Or would I be made into an NPC on some game world and punished when I went off script? What did it even mean?

I found out three days later as I was shuffled into a warehouse full of VR capsules as fast a my ankle shackles would allow me. I was stripped out of my orange jumpsuit and strapped down to the cushion of the pod. While they fitted me with an IV a little accountant of a man with a clipboard walked up.

“Let's see, looks like you're going into an A class world run by a first gen A.I., lucky you. First generation let us muck around with their creations even less than the newer ones do, so you get to make a character just as if you were actually going to play. Enjoy it, it might be the last major decision out get to make for a while.” He chuckled to himself, “what you choose will determine what they have you doing inside. Before all that I need you to sign some things.”

He put the digital clipboard next to my hand, picked up my thumb and pressed it to the screen, “that was a consent to intravenous feeding.” Press, “that was consent to medical treatment.” Press, “that was forfeiture of minimum pay.” Press, “that was a transfer of power of attorney to the warden.” Press, “and that was legal release from your habeas corpus rights.”

He reclaimed the clipboard and surveyed it, “That looks to be everything. They’ll let you know what is expected of you once you're in there. Plug him in.” This last was to the guard, who promptly closed the lid of the capsule, ending my old life forever.

*****INITIALIZING*****

At first, everything went black and absolutely silent. I couldn't even hear my own heart beat. I had been through a VR calibration before, so I knew what to expect. Sure enough, the darkness was soon replaced by colored blobs that slowly resolved themselves into circles and squares and triangles. My hearing came back in first and starts, bursts of static resolving into clear electronic tones. My sense of touch came back all at once, going from the tingly, floaty feeling of a sleeping limb to the feeling of a thousand Wattenberg pinwheels racing up my arms and legs as well as down my spine. This was just as quickly replaced by the feeling of wetness on my palms, followed by cold, then heat, then burning, then a sharp pain, then a gentle throbbing like a pleasantly sore muscle, and finally a heavy pressure as if I was holding a ball or stone. Taste came next, overwhelming strikes of salt and sweet, tart and bitter, flagellating my tongue in a rapid staccato. Smell was last, and I was bathed in the smell of toast of all things, this have way to sulphur and eventually to vanilla. Just before the calibration ended I caught one more scent, a musky floral smell I would have sworn was my mother's perfume.