Call me a Metaverse skeptic. Oh sure, I know someone’s building it, demoing it, convincing people it’s the town square of the future. But I don’t buy it. I don’t think our technology is there yet (at the time of this writing), and even if it is, I still don’t think we’ll nail it.
One can certainly imagine an impressive virtual or augmented world, one that overcomes issues of lag and latency, of ergonomics and comfort, of damage and destruction. Yet even in my wildest imagination, I keep coming back to the limits of who we are.
If such a brilliant technology were to exist, would we be brilliant enough use it well?
Society has a checkered history with this, and so my vision of the future gets messy too. I see us falling back on tribalism, putting up walls, deciding based on profit-motives, and getting caught up in the race to the bottom.
But I also see us using that technology for wonderful things, like connecting with loved ones over great distances; learning about history and philosophy; creating works of art and teaching young people to dream.
And of course, falling in love.
My take on our new town square is the Garden, a dreamlike universe accessed through neural interfaces. It’s where you can fly, swim, and sip wine with your exiled cousin from the comfort of your bed. It’s where you and your secret lover might break anonymity rules by telling each other your names.
Even if you’ll never see him once your family marries you off to a political ally, you can still make beautiful memories together. Memories no one can take from you. Ever.
Excerpt from O, swear not by the moon
A subroutine pours a drink for Roxy. Tanith studies the particle trajectories as fluid swirls inside the glass. So realistic—the latest patch to the Garden has all but eliminated the uncanny valley that reminds her she belongs to a different world.
“Do you want one?” Roxy gestures too wildly and splashes wine onto Tanith’s lap. The stain blossoms perfectly with every millisecond. Its algorithm is magnificent. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to the new physics.”
Tanith smiles at her cousin. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t feel a thing.”
“Oh, really? Hmm, maybe they’ll release the haptics in the next update. Still impressive, though.”
The subroutine chirps. *Cleaning will be forty credits.*
Tanith smirks. “But of course the developers completed this feature.”
“I’ll pay. It’s my fault.”
“Don’t worry about it. It matches my hair tonight.”
“No, this is happening. We can’t have you looking shabby with you-know-who over there.”
The subroutine rolls away and Tanith looks to the entrance of the virtual playground. *He* has arrived.
He calls himself “Faruk”. Tonight, he wears green eyes and well-groomed eyebrows with a pair of slits cut into the outer crest on the left side. And last week, when he kissed her, Tanith could have sworn the Garden haptics had already been released.
O, swear not by the moon is the tale of a neurally entangled love that crosses the boundary between worlds. Find it in the Star Crossed anthology of romantic science fiction, published by Fedowar Press.
About JL Peridot
JL Peridot writes love letters to the future on devices form the past. She’s a qualified computer scientist, former website maker, amateur horticulturist, and sometimes illustrator. But most of the time, she’s an author of romantic science fiction. She lives with her partner and fur-family in Boorloo (Perth, Australia) on Whadjuk Noongar country. Visit her website at jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work.
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Website: https://jlperidot.com
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