»> “Have you gone through the job description yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Would you like a briefing, or have the details uploaded via knowledge transfer (KT)?
“Give me the KT,” Alan replied.
“Very well. Incoming.”
Alan’s head buzzed as white drowned his mind. “Ungh,” he moaned. He’d forgotten how painful KT’s are.
“Any unanswered details?” Piper asked, after discomfort subsided.
“I think I’ve got it,” Alan muttered. “Interesting interface.”
“How so?”
“To use the feature, I have to fall asleep and dream about animals. However many animals I dream about is how many copies I make—up to three.”
“Curious. Are the different versions of you allowed to meet?”
“No, they—I, I guess—can load into any world I want so long as it’s not occupied by one of my copies.”
“And what of me, your favorite and irreplaceable digipal? Woof!” Piper barked.
“You’re copied too. Though, your performance can degrade since your processing power is split between the three worlds.”
“Oh, bother,” Piper grumbled.
“Don’t worry, I’ll love you even if you’re a bit slower.”
“Jolly,” Piper wagged his tail.
Alan brought up the feature toggle on his watch: Multipath. Hesitantly, Alan flipped the switch. A circular icon spun quietly on his watch’s display. After what felt like an eternity it stopped, and the toggle moved to the “on” position.
Multipath enabled, said a soft voice in Alan’s head.
“Alright, I’m gonna head to bed and try this out. Can you keep an eye on me?”
“Of course, Al.”
Alan settled into bed, and dreamt of three giraffes galloping across golden sands along the African coast.
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Boring, Alan thought, as he laid on his couch scrolling through contracts on the MTP’s job board. Their descriptions and details hovered as holograms a foot from his face on his airUI. Done it. Unsatisfied, he scrolled impatiently further and further till he reached the end of the backlog—to the jobs no one wanted. They were either too challenging, too mundane, or too stingy on credits. One, however, caught his attention. TS-1337… from the Trust and Safety team (T&S). He hadn’t worked with that department before. He skimmed the description. It was a sting. Some perv found a way to hack into a user’s Stream live, as they were recording it. They could see through their victim’s eyes in real-time. The debugger working the job would act as a honeypot to attract the hacker. Someone from MTP’s cyber security incidence response team (CSIRT) would then trace and identify them. A member from T&S would tag along in case things went foo bar. All activity would be logged, so the system could be patched after the perpetrator was caught.
Alan would have to don an avatar matching the hacker’s usual target: a red-headed woman. He’d then have to… entice… the hacker to watch the stream. All while a bunch of MTP staff watched, recorded, and logged the operation. It made him uncomfortable. He wondered if this is why no one had taken the ticket. He’d never even used a female avatar before, let alone pleasured himself as one. He wondered how it would feel. Did MTP find a way to map female pleasure responses to a male brain? Or would touching him(her?)self simply trigger the male sensations he’s always known? After a bit of deliberation, he assigned himself the job and closed his airUI.
He looked out his living room window. Fog obscured the view of New Dallas’ tall data centers. A few of the closest ones managed to rise above, like mountains poking through clouds. The dreamy view made Alan sleepy. He snuggled up on his couch and dozed off.
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Alan looked Ada up and down; simply dressed as she was, she looked stunning. Retro denim jeans hugged her waist and drew his attention to her hips… a crisp white shirt with long-sleeves rolled to her elbows gave her an air of elegance. Her jet black hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves. Ruby red lipstick betwixt fair skin gave the perfect pop of color.
“Hey Alan,” she smiled. “It’s nice to see you. In person.”
“Likewise. You look great.”
“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“I try,” Alan grinned, thinking of the hours he spent browsing influencer streams for the right outfit. He’d gone with a classic money look: gray slacks, a cashmere sweater over a salmon collared shirt, and polished well-worn loafers. The look was effortless but intentional, a balance between comfort and refinement. “So, where’s this cafe we’re heading to?”
“It’s right next to the beach. This way,” she gestured down a narrow cobblestone street flanked by colorful houses crammed together.
“By the way, I got us some bikes to get us there.” She led them to a pair of bicycles leaning on an old stone wall, a tall one in dark slate blue, and a smaller one in aquamarine. “You can ride, right?” she asked with an awkward smile.
Alan scoffed. “‘Course. I grew up riding bikes.”
“Just asking. Ya know, I just now realized… it would have been pretty awkward if you didn’t know how,” she chuckled.
“Awkward and embarassing,” Alan laughed. He looked both bikes over. They were vintage, with straight pipes for the main frame and handlebars and forks rounded with clean, simple curves. He guessed they were from the twentieth century. He walked towards his and patted the leather seat.
“How’d you know I like blue?”
“Lucky guess.”
Alan mounted his bike with ease and watched, impressed, as Ada did the same. They pedaled down the bumpy road, side by side, gliding through the salty air at a leisurely pace.
“I love this city,” Ada said. Her voice was soft but confident, and pleasant to Alan’s ears.
She took in the neighborhood around them. “I used to watch sailing races here with my father. I haven’t been back since… gosh, I can’t even remember,” Ada murmured, her voice trailing for a moment. “It’s funny how some places feel like they’re frozen in time, as if the place knew that when you came back, you’d want it to be just how you remembered it.”
“Hmmm,” Alan hummed in agreement, though he couldn’t relate.
“Do any places make you feel like that?”
“Not really. I got plugged into here pretty young. I like New Dallas. I have it set as my Home, in fact. It reminds me of my job in the physical. I was a server infrastructure engineer.”
“I remember you saying something about. You worked for the company that makes this place, right? MTP?”
“That’s right. Technically I still do work for them, on ocassion.”
“How does it feel, living in a world you helped build?”
“Indifferent. I have a better understanding of how this place operates than most. It helps me earn credits.”
“You said you’re plugged into here? That means you’re still alive in the real world?” Ada asked.
“Real world? Are you implying this world we’re in right now is fake?”
“Oh, I…” Ada stammered as her face blushed.
“I’m just playin’. We call it the physical world, or just the physical. But yeah, somewhere out there my body is floating in a vat of bio goo.”
“Why’d you plug in so young?”
“The last thing I remember about the physical is a car accident. I don’t know what happened after that. But even that feels fuzzy, more like remembering a dream rather than a memory,” Alan recalled, his brow furrowed. “What about you? How are you able to enjoy your time here in New Horizons?”
“I’m an upload,” Ada replied.
“Ah. Most people here are.”
Alan had complicated thoughts on uploads. He had learned a thought experiment in high school about a teleporter that killed you instantly but created a perfect replica at the destination. Was the replica really you, or just a copy? Many people in New Horizons did not think highly of uploads.
“How old were you when uploaded?” he asked.
“Care to take a guess?” Ada grinned.
“Absolutely not,” Alan retorted, and they both laughed.
“Smart choice,” she said, still smiling. “A hundred and twenty seven.”
“You don’t look half-bad for your age,” Alan teased, a playful glint in his eye.
“Thanks. I do try,” she said, fluttering her eyes in her twenty-something year old digital avatar.
__ add something about their environment __
“How did you and your dad get into sailboat racing?” he asked.
“It was a tradition in his family, and he passed it on to me. I raced in high school and college, you know?” she said with a gleam of pride.
“Say, you wouldn’t want to race, would you?” she raised an eyebrow, her smile widening.
Alan smirked. He wasn’t very competitive, but he could ride. “Sure, why not?”
“You think you can keep up?” she teased. “I might leave you in the dust.”
“We’ll see,” he grinned.
“Hey, what kind of trinkets do you think they sell at that shop…?” Ada pointed to a store behind them.
Alan looked over his shoulder to a store with a sign that said “Trésors Cachés”.
“I dunno, I can’t speak… Hey!” Alan shouted. She’d pulled ahead seven bike lengths by the time Alan turned around.
“Catch me if you can!” Ada shouted behind herself gleefully.
Perturbed, Alan pedaled hard to catch up.
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Linus crouched down by the edge of the alley, picking at paint peeling off a rusty pipe behind a brick building. A sly grin spread across his face. He tilted his head toward a bot walking towards them. “Check this out,” he said.
Alan followed his gaze to a bot walking steadily down the narrow passage. Dressed in a white chef’s uniform replete with a tall hat and a comically thick moustache, he carried a stack of plates that wobbled dangerously with each step. The moment he tried to walk past a chain link fence he slammed into an invisible wall, the entire stack of plates crashing to the ground in a mess of shattered porcelain.
The bot paused, confused by the sudden disaster, bent down and scooped the shards into his apron. With his belly bulging a jagged mass, he turned around and walked the same path—only to collide with the barrier again, sending the shards flying once more.
Alan laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “I see you’ve found an invisible wall.”
“You could probably say it found me. I ran head first into the bloody thing!”
“Funny, I hadn’t found one this obvious before.”
“Yeah well, I didn’t realize this place was so buggy. Aren’t you a debugger? How many more bugs are there?”
Alan chuckled. “There are a few. Some are more fun than others. This one’s pretty hilarious, I’ll admit.”
“Ah yeah, once I found the wall, I tricked that bot into walking this way. I didn’t think he’d keep walking into it, over and over. They’re dumber than a box of rocks!”
“Yeah, they can be,” Alan agreed, still grinning at the bot stuck in an infinite loop.
“Why’s that barrier even there?”
Alan examined invisible wall. The bot, on noticing him, broke out of his routine and shuffled away, broken plates clinking together as he left. Alan patted the surface, feeling for its height. It was the same as the nearby fence. He inspected where one end of the fence met the side of a building. The chain links fused right into the wall; the rest of the fence must be inside the building.
“This fence is supposed to be five feet this way,” Alan motioned away from the building towards the hidden wall. “Sometimes the system misplaces objects and buildings when it’s generating a world, and it causes stuff like this to happen.”
Linus inspected where the fence met the wall. “Far out,” he replied. “Let’s get outta here. There’s way more to Melbourne’s than glitchy alleys.”
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Alan stomped on the pedals, absorbing harsh shocks and vibration from the cobblestone road as he gathered speed. He turned sharply at the intersection, narrowly avoiding a passing car, and hopped onto the sidewalk at a low point in the curb.
“Hey!” Alan shouted to the sudden streams of bots mindlessly walking in his way. “Move it!” Startled, they jumped in masses onto the street or pushed up against the storefronts.
Where did all these bots come from? Alan wondered. “Piper, is it me or are there way more bots here than normal?” he asked, communicating to his digipal remotely with his mindUI.
“Piper, you there?” Alan asked, after fifteen seconds with no response.
“It does seem like there are more simulated people than usual, at least compared to our world. MTP does offer a feature for controlling the density of simulated users. Perhaps her world has the feature enabled, and she is using it to her advantage.”
“Tricky,” Alan huffed.
“Yes Al, I’m here.”
“What? Alan asked.
Piper didn’t reply.
Damn, Alan remembered. Piper’s processing slowed down if his other clones were using him strenuously.
“Nevermind. Find me another route to that coffee shop Ada mentioned earlier,” Alan said as he swerved to avoid the masses of bots forming all around him. “Make sure it’s not a path pedestrians take!”
Of course Alan was going to let Ada win, but he had to let her win by only a little, so she’d wonder if he let her. He glanced all around for a better route while awaiting Piper’s reply. In doing so, he lost sight of Ada amidst the sea of bots. Damn!, he thought. He hoped whatever use the other Alans had for Piper was worth it.
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Alan awoke to Piper nestling next to him on the small sliver of space still free on the couch. The fog that had blanketed the city had vanished, and in its place was a clear blue sky dotted with busy worker drones.
“Hello, Al.”
“Hey, Piper.”
“MTP acknowledged your request to take TS-1337. The task’s reporter is coordinating with T&S and CSIRT (spoken “sea-cert”) for when and where to conduct the operation. The task’s status has been switched to ‘in progress’. They will let us know when the operation is ready to begin.”
“Sounds good. Hey Piper, what’s the log of four billion, two hundred ninety-four million, nine hundred sixty-seven thousand, two hundred ninety-six, squared?
Piper stared blankly at Alan for nearly half a minute.
“Nineteen point two six six.”
Alan grinned, “Ah perfect, thanks.”
“Of course.”
Multipath, it turns out, causes a not insignificant decrease in Piper’s performance. He wondered what the other Alans were up to, then got up to make himself a drink.
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Alan followed Linus through the arched stone entrance, his footsteps echoing faintly against the worn bluestone floor. The gaol’s oppressive air wrapped around him like a strait jacket—each step down its dim corridors seemed to pull him further into a grim past that sent a shiver across his skin.
Linus strolled ahead, running his fingers along the damp walls. “Y’know, my granddad was a jailer back in the day. Not here, though—smaller place up north. Tough as nails, that old bloke.” He glanced back at Alan with a grin. “Dad, though? He was a bloody scoundrel. Had a few run-ins with the law himself. Bit of irony in that, yeah? Granddad keepin’ blokes like Dad in line.”
Alan smirked. “Guess that explains your charm.”
Linus laughed, the sound bouncing off the cold stone walls. “Yeah, reckon I’ve got the best of both worlds—Granddad’s discipline and Dad’s talent for stirring the pot.” He stopped by an open cell door, gesturing for Alan to peek inside.
Alan stepped closer, glancing into the cramped, empty cell. Its stark walls and narrow cot felt like they belonged to a bygone era. A rusted steel bucket in the corner of the room made Alan’s stomach churn. He couldn’t imagine having to spend more than a month locked up in a place like this.
“Go on,” Linus said, waving him in.
“What, you want me to step inside?”
“Just for a laugh. C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?”
Alan hesitated before stepping in, the iron bars casting long shadows across the floor. Linus grinned, swinging the heavy door shut with a resonating clang.
“Feel like a criminal yet?” Linus asked, leaning against the bars.
Alan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Very funny.”
“Alright, I’ll let you out. It’s yard time anyways,” Linus chuckled. “Gimme a sec, just gotta find the key…” he said, padding his pockets to find a key that didn’t exist.
“Don’t bother,” Alan smirked.
Alan closed his eyes and accessed his mindUI. He imagined himself standing on the loading pad he saw earlier at the prison’s entrance. With a faint shimmer, he vanished from the cell.
Alan materialized on the pad at the entrance of the Old Melbourne Gaol Museum. A cool breeze brushed past him as the gaol’s imposing façade loomed overhead. He adjusted his jacket and casually made his way back inside.
From deeper within, Linus’s voice echoed through as he shouted. “Oi! Alan? Mate? You still here?”
“Alan?! Bloody hell!” Linus’s shout was closer now, the words ricocheting off the cramped corridors.
Alan turned a corner, and found him furiously tapping at his watch, frustration written across his face.
“Relax,” Alan said, stepping into view.
Linus spun around. “Bloody hell mate! Thought you’d loaded out of my world!” he said, with a look of relief.
“Hmph. Where’s the fun in that?” Alan grinned.
Linus chuckled and shook his head. “Alright then, Houdini. How’d you get out of that cell so quick?”
“Loading pad. There’s one by the entrance to this place.”
Linus raised an eyebrow. “Really? Thought those things were only in downtown.”
“They’re all over. They’re not as big or elevated like the ones downtown, but they have the same markings.”
“Good to know, mate.” He slapped his hands together. “Anyway, you had enough of this place? There’s a pub not far from here that serves a proper pint. My shout.”
“Yeah we could do that, but there are other ways to get buzzed in here.”
“Better than a fresh pint?”
“C’mon ‘mate’, where’s your sense of adventure?” Alan quipped.
Linus chuckled, crossing his arms. “Okay Houdini, what have you got in mind?”
“You’ll see,” Alan grinned. “But only if you’re ready for a good mind-fuck.”
Linus snorted. “Sounds like something my dad would’ve gotten into and sworn he invented. Lead the way.”
“Load into New Amsterdam. I’ll see you there.”
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“Cut through that alley on your right, after that fountain” Piper’s voice rippled through Alan’s mind. “See the masts in the distance? Head toward those. There’s a service road that hugs the marina. It leads right to the café”
Alan leaned hard and made a smooth turn around the fountain and shot into the alley, his tires skimming gravel and uneven pavement. The scent of seawater rushed over him as the alley opened up to the marina, where rows of sleek yachts and weathered sailboats bobbed gently in the water, their masts swaying with the rhythm of the tide. Finally free from the swarms of bots, Alan hit his full stride. The cool ocean air invigorated him, and the calming, sparkling blue sea washed away his competitiveness. Ahead he could see Ada, her aquamarine bike standing out amidst the beige and pastel-colored apartments lining the shoreline.
“Looks like she beat us,” Alan thought to Piper.
“Tell her you let her.”
“Yeah, obviously.”
Ada was already leaning against the café’s wooden signpost when Alan arrived, her bike parked neatly beside her. She gave him a sly smile as he caught his breath.
“Not bad,” she said, tilting her head. “For someone who got mobbed back there.”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t say. Any idea how that happened?”
Ada tapped her chin mock-thoughtfully. “Maybe they felt drawn to you. Maybe you’re magnetic,” she said with a grin.
“Maybe,” Alan rolled his eyes.
“Come on, coffee’s on me.”
He reached for the door, pulling it open and gesturing for her to go in. “Winner’s first.”
“Careful, I might start getting used to this,” she said in her soft, disarming voice.
Alan blushed as he followed her into the café.
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Alan looked himself up and down in the bedroom mirror. “Whoa. I look fucking hot.” His hazel eyes gazed at his flowing auburn hair, beautiful symmetrical face, large supple breasts, curvaceous hips, and elegant legs. He was turning himself on. But the feeling was different. His crotch was throbbing. He wasn’t hard—He no longer had a dick… his pussy was getting wet, and that turned him on even more. Fuck!, he thought and looked away. He focused on the room he was in. It wasn’t his room, because it would be a dead giveaway if they’d use Alan’s musty bachelor pad, but also for Alan’s own privacy. T&S had a fresh world spun up for Alan to use, and crafted this room to fit the avatar he was using. He focused on a succulent on top of a dresser.
“Hi Alan, this is Tim from CSIRT, how you doing?” a calm man’s voice said in Alan’s head.
“Doing fine, and you?” Alan replied with a thought.
“Good, good. I’m here with Grace from Trust and Safety.”
“Hi Alan.”
“Hello.”
“And your digipal Piper is with us as well,” Tim continued. “Thank you for working on this ticket for us. We understand it’s quite an unconventional work, as far as debugging goes. But as you can imagine, it’s critical we find the perpetrator and collect enough data so we know how to patch this bug so it doesn’t happen again.”
“No problem.”