Mark van Rijmenam - Step into the Metaverse

To her front was the back of her husband's digital twin. He was intensely watching a match of hyper-squash between two avatars. One of which looked like a salmon, the other George W. Bush. The avatars smashed a golden ball back and forth, dashing and jumping in ways only possible in the digital realm.

“Terry,” Laya called, almost retracting at her own unfamiliar loving tone. She hadn't heard her own voice sound so sweet in what felt like an eternity. She moved closer toward him, her real smile projected onto her digital twin.

Terry turned, excited to see his absent wife. They hugged, virtually, their feedback sensors warming as they did.

“What happened to brunch?”

“Nothing, I was just watching some hyper-squash while I waited,” Terry explained. “I'm already there.”

* * *

Terry was wearing his AR glasses, enabling him to enjoy his wife's holographic presence and his food at the same time. From Laya's perspective, she was sitting in Al Pancho's digital twin and looking at the digital twin of her husband.

Al Pancho's was one of many holo-restaurants that now called the mall their home. These establishments were designed with both the physical and digital guest in mind, letting friends, family, and lovers share meals while sitting in restaurants separated by hundreds of miles. Laya ate a brunch prepared by her kitchen staff, Terry from Al Pancho's.

Once they'd finished, Laya waved her holographic hand over a physical card machine, held by a waiter wearing a pair of Al Pancho–branded AR glasses, who then handed Terry a physical receipt.

Terry pushed his face towards Laya, “Thank you for brunch, honey.” He was putting on that cute voice he does sometimes. “Although I do wish you could've been here in person.”

“I know. I do too, but we'll see each other tonight. I promise.”

“It's fine. When I see you in person, we're always haunted by your security anyway,” Terry added with a raise of his eyebrows and his voice slightly deflated.

Terry walked out into the mall, Laya's hologram automatically tethered to his movements. As they strolled, various adverts, both physical and digital, subtly changed. The words Laya , Terry , and husband and wife seemed to repeat across a few of them. To Laya's annoyance, one particularly aggressive ad for menopause supplements popped up in Laya's path, floating about 3 feet off the ground.

Terry knew she hated those adverts, so he reached out and grabbed the advert and then tossed it across the mall like a frisbee.

“Oh, look,” Terry added, changing the subject quickly. “D'Argento is having a sale. How about that necklace we saw last time?”

Laya started smiling again. She connected her holographic hand to Terry's digital hand, and together they strolled into D'Argento, an upmarket jewelry store for both the physical and digital jewelry lover.

The inside resembled a classic turn-of-the-century jewelry shop. The glass display cases of various shapes and sizes were full of beautifully crafted items of aesthetic pleasure. Above and besides the physical pieces, digital jewelry floated and glowed. Signs stating NFT certified and Unique Digital Items were proudly displayed in AR fashion.

Together, they perused the selection, eventually agreeing on the same necklace they'd flirted with a few times before. Terry paid this time, swiping the palm of his hand across the card machine. Once the payment was confirmed, the necklace appeared in Laya's digital inventory.

After she equipped the necklace, they stood there for a moment admiring their buy in a virtual mirror, giggling and whispering sweet nothings like they did when they were younger. In the midst of Terry telling Laya how beautiful she looked, a red flash appeared in the corner of Laya's vision—the word Ae on the screen. She had to take it. For a brief moment, Laya had forgotten about her age, about her job. “Yes, Ae? I asked not to be interrupted.”

“Ahh, duty never takes a day off, Prime Minister,” Ae quipped as she strolled into Laya's vision.

“And apparently you never listen to your programming.”

Ae narrowed her eyes at Laya but kept the conversation focused. The Cultural Protection Program had just landed a celebrity spokesman, pleasant news to Laya's ears, plus it was almost time to go to Mia's school for her show. Mia was Laya's 15-year-old and eldest child.

Laya thanked and dismissed Ae. She turned to her husband with a sad look in her eye. She was so grateful for Terry. Many other men wouldn't support a spouse with a job like this. But Terry, Terry got it. She wondered how she would've coped 20 years ago before the metaverse helped them steal days like this every now and then. Before we had virtual AI assistants to do the paperwork.

They said their goodbyes and promised to see each other, in person, for dinner that evening.

With that, Laya brought up the central directory and opened a door to The Imperial College of Arts' new metaverse performance space.

* * *

It was always the sound first. As Laya stepped through the door the noise of a full hall poured over her. A wave of conversation, laughs, and cries from excited kids and teens reverberated through her headset. She adjusted the volume on the right side of the headset and looked around the large, darkened hall.

A stage sat at the far end, brightly illuminated by invisible lights. She looked up and noticed the hall just faded off into blackness, never actually coming to a ceiling, just an endless void.

Ms. Hutchkings, the school's principal, had turned up to personally guide Laya through the crowd of mixed avatars. Digital twins, some sporting tuxedos, others shorts and T-shirts, lined the hall. Some more outlandish avatars were also dotted about, including what looked like a Ninja Turtle, or at least some type of giant walking reptile.

They found their way to the designated viewing area, and within minutes, the hall fell silent. A row of masked faces appeared center stage. The show had begun. Students began showcasing content they created in their Content Creation Module, a module added to the national curriculum as part of Laya's 5-Step Modernization Program.

About 30 minutes in, Mia's digital twin came on dressed in a tutu. Mia had tweaked the color scheme and appeared black and white, almost film Noir-esque.

She stood center stage and took a ballet pose, as she softly moved, a black bar appeared at the bottom of Laya's vision. Bach - Air on the G String, Suite No. 3, BWV 1068 gently scrolled across in a small white font. The haunting sound of a stringed orchestra rose through Laya's ears as her daughter gracefully began moving with the music. As she moved, her fingers would leave brush strokes behind them, hanging in the air.

Mia danced beautifully, the changing colors flowing out from her hands as she did. Dark blues, a deep green, violet, gold, blacks, whites—a palette of colors drifted out from her hands staining the air. At the piece's crescendo, Mia struck a pose in front of the picture she'd just birthed. From a thousand seemingly random lines and colors, a vision of Vincent van Gogh's The Starry Night had formed.

Mia bowed to the audience. Cheers and whistles swelled from the crowd, with the occasional digital firework being let off too. Laya jumped up in excitement, waving like a madwoman to her daughter on stage who, thanks to a family setting on the avatar filter, could see her mother and gave an excited handwave back.

Laya had missed this. She'd missed being around when her kids did incredible things. With a smile on her face, a single tear slowly rolled down Laya's real cheek, catching in the reservoir where her headset meets her face.

Laya kept cheering for her daughter, but eventually, the crowd settled, and the next student came on.