In a time where everything sold could be delivered on your doorstep, Marcus was glad that physical stores dealing with physical goods displayed still existed in the future. Their catalog of displays might never compare to an online delivery store, but Marcus always preferred to walk into one and feel the product rather than looking at it through a screen. Call him old-fashioned, there was something in being sold by a person standing in front and explaining things to you compared to a sterile video designed to generate the most hype and read the reviews other users have left behind, which are bots more likely than not.

A salesperson, in comparison, can give perspective, something that a simple spec sheet or a promotional video will never provide.

Red Earth Electronics. It had been the third store Marcus had visited and had to be the biggest so far. Unlike the previous two, who’s ran by a bored old man or an uncaring young man, this store had salesmen prowling the aisles hunting for a customer.

Marcus walked to the store and noticed the hum from thousands of pedestrians walking through the underground mall quiet down as soon as he passed through the shop’s threshold. Whether through soundproofing or some other technology, Marcus doesn’t know. He then noticed the chill hip-hop beat played throughout the store and found it pleasant in the background.

TVs playing product and game advertisements covered the store’s red-painted and white striped walls. Underneath them, shelves filled with miniaturized accessories and devices lined the walls and made partitions in the store. He passed the shelves containing devices whose use Marcus could only guess, giving them only a passing glance.

The aisles ended and space opened up further back in the store, showcasing the more bulky products sold. Marcus didn’t have to guess whether the massive coffin-sized objects anchored on the floor were the virtual reality pod he was looking for.

Marcus homed into one in particular. It was a model shaped like an egg. It focused on a minimalist design, simply a cocoon tilted on a pedestal with wires hidden underneath flush panels and construction, a seam lined the longitudinal section of the pod where it would open and looked fit a normal-sized human within its shell.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you?” A salesman called for Marcus’ attention, surprising him for a second. To Marcus, he simply materialized next to him. “I am Ryphon. Your store representative.” He said, offering a handshake.

“Right.” Marcus muttered as he caught himself and took his hand. “Name’s Marcus. I’m looking into buying one of these VR pods, but the words and numbers written on these specs don’t really mean much to me to be honest. Don’t know which one of these would fit right to what I want.”

The salesman listened attentively, then pointed to the list of specifications written on the pod. “I see. First is that the specs are required by law and had to be verified as to minimize the proliferation of counterfeit pods. I assure you that all our merchandise are genuine. But in summary, these simply translate to the time you can spend within VR in neural comfort. You can extend your time to eighteen to twenty-four hours with fifteen minute meditation breaks in between sessions. But in the end, the human brain can only stay awake for so long, and you would have to pay one way or another. If you plan to do what I had just said, I recommend you stay within the normal parameters as the techniques I mentioned are only practiced by professional gamers.”

“Okay.” A pro gamer move then, Marcus wanted to say, but kept to himself. “Then what’s the maximum time allowed?”

“That would be sixteen hours to make way for eight hours of sleep. It was more to reduce strain on the brain than the body.” He said, then looked over at Marcus’ physique and tracksuit. “If you would be interested, we also sell exercise machines in one of our branch stores.”

Marcus chuckled, “I’m more of a free weights guy. So how about these hour ratings, what makes them more expensive compared to the others.”

“It’s mostly hardware,” He said, pressing a button on the side panel. The cover unlocked with a pneumatic hiss, then raised itself with the whirr of electric motors, revealing a human impression left on the interior cushion. “Here you have better furnishings to make sure your body isn’t put into undue stress for laying down too much. Breathable memory foam keeps your body cool while in contact and the vents on the side and the cover supply filtered and conditioned air. These keep you very comfortable during your sessions. And while you’re gaming, the pod will direct current to your muscles, exercising them to prevent muscle atrophy.”

“Promotional materials claim it is so comfortable, you can sleep in it. I have personally, confirmed that you sleep on it sure, but laying on a bed is still leagues better. The other reason for the expense is the computer hardware installed. Most of the processing power is spent on pushing the least amount of mental stress on the brain. Making it that after a long day of gaming, it doesn’t give you that feeling like you just had your brain fogged out. Termed Brain Fog.”

“Creative name.” Marcus muttered.

“The effect varies from person to person. A man like you could spend more hours in game with a lower rated pod until forcefully disconnected due to mental fatigue. But with this, it is a guaranteed fourteen hours minimum of playtime. As for safety, it is rated ten in the human survival metric, which means that you can survive inside the pod for an hour in vacuum, making you virtually safe from the extremely rare cases of decompression.” He looked at Marcus, almost proudly. “So, dear sir. What do you make of it? We also provide six months warranty which we could extent to a year for a small fee.”

‘This guy is good’, Marcus thought, but then looked at the price and sighed. The best would take a large chunk of his rainy day funds until his next government allowance. Not to mention his debt that he had to start paying in a year. It was all because the interest rate in the trust set up for him had been outpaced by inflation. To prevent further debt, it was decided by the Martian Government that it would be better to wake people in stasis the moment the cure for their rare diseases has been synthesized, passed, and accredited.

Marcus was one of the last ones. His debt had tallied for around a million Martian Republic Credits, or MRC for short. It was the equivalent income of an upper-middle-class family for ten months, given that they don’t spend it on anything else. One MRC would buy a half-liter bottle of water, and ten MRC could get a full meal at a cheap restaurant. For the current Marcus, he would have to pay it for the rest of his life if he kept with his current income stream.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He had to take the risk.

Marcus checked his bank balance and decided. He could make it. He would live off cup ramen if he had to, and he did. Marcus lived the college life. But as for the immediate future, he would have to cut on the quality of his nutrition that was currently budgeted to get his old body back. But just like his father says when buying tools, buy once, cry once. “I’m guessing delivery and installation are free?”

“Installation is straightforward, but delivery time depends entirely on where you’re currently living. If you’re living close by, we could get yours installed and already playing in your pod this afternoon. Am I right to assume that you’re also taking Burned Asylum with the unit?”

Marcus spread his arms. “Am I that easy to read?”

“It’s the newest and most sought after game currently.” He shrugged, “Usually, we only have a selection of fantasy games featuring magic, and medieval combat. And with the ban on virtual games featuring 21st century combat lifted last year, people have been clamoring, even demanding on playing something new. Now, it has arrived.”

That could be an interesting read, Marcus thought. “You guessed right. You can throw that in as a freebie, right?”

Ryphon gave a shy smile, “Perhaps a discount.”

“Alright. Write it up, my friend. Though I won’t be taking that extended warranty.” Marcus said.

“Thank you for your patronage.” He smiled. “Please provide your address and we could process the delivery so we could get it as soon as possible.”

Marcus listed out his address; room 1145, Hab 34, Pavonis II Mons district which gotten him the delivery to be expected first thing in the morning. He handed him his card and was left alone as the salesman processed his purchase. With nothing else to do while waiting for Ryphon to come back, Marcus walked the aisles, looking at the electronics on display, looking to only read but with no interest in purchasing.

Marcus was busy watching a promotional trailer for a VR game set in a fantasy setting when he noticed an object next to him. He turned to look, when the floating ball started talking with an electronic voice. “Why is it that humans find being put into stressful situations fun?”

It was the last thing he would rather meet, a Scion. An alien AI inside an extremely advanced robotic shell.

One of the most important events during Marcus’s cold sleep was the confirmation and arrival of physical aliens. Or if one would be so pedantic, digital, given that Scions’ bodies are manufactured robots with their cores running their software so complex and powerful that they were considered as true AI.

The identity of their builders was kept closely guarded. The governments, claim that they also do not know and out of respect for the Scions, will not prod further into the question. There are theories, of course, but they all range from full benevolence to sheer paranoia. Marcus read about some of the stuff until he decided that in the end, it didn’t matter that much to a man like him.

But it mattered a lot to humanity. The Scions brought with them gifts of technology with the promise of access to them as long as humanity will strive for peace and cooperation. That, along with their proven indestructibility with the current modern methods, they had easily made themselves pose as Humanity’s big brother. And by law, it is illegal to refuse a question or lie to a Scion. Considering that Marcus had just gotten his life back, he would rather prefer spending all his life in freedom than some months in jail.

“I just play the games because I like it man, don’t ask me why.” He replied, hoping that the alien machine would find his answer adequate and leave.

“On the contrary, Mr. Marcus Corvo, I’m sure a person hailing before Scion’s arrival would have an enlightening perspective.” The electronic voice replied.

“You ask everyone the same question?”

“On these locations, yes.”

Marcus sighed. “Look. From a person who just got thawed out of the freezer from hundreds of years in the past, I find shooting guns to be fun, both real and virtual. I hope you already know, but back then, I owned firearms myself. I respect the people who defended our county against enemies, both foreign and domestic. The game systems available to me now are just something to be dreamed about back in my time, so I’d be an idiot to not even try it. Also, I guess the best answer to your question is that its just a game, there you could do things you wouldn’t do in real life. With very little consequence.”

“Look, you have to keep in mind that I don’t represent my race. That this is just me, but I’d like to try and be in a firefight at least. But that usually have the risk of getting shot and killed, which I’d rather not happen to me. So the closest thing I got to getting into one is in VR. Does this answer your question?”

“Yes, and I thank you for your cooperation.”

“Right. Bye.” Marcus replied, turning to leave.

“Another question.”

‘Fuck.’ Marcus thought. He paused his stride and turned back around. “Alright.”

“We are aware of your current situation. Would you like us to offer assistance?”

“No.”

“Another question.”

“The answer is that it’s my problem to solve, not yours. Are you familiar with the phrase, none of your business?”

The scion paused. Marcus looked at the machine as it considered the answer. “There is no other question. Thank you.”

Marcus watched as the ball floated away from him. Marcus wondered what kind of technology could defy gravity to the extent of what he was witnessing. The shiny ball containing the Scion simply floated between the shelves, never disturbing the objects on display, as if the Scion looked at the current laws of physics and it simply said, ‘no’.

Someone cleared his throat nearby, and Marcus looked over to see that it was Ryphon. He held his card in his hands and gave it back, along with the receipt. “We apologize for the trouble. The Scions rarely visit this store.”

“Not a problem.” Marcus answered, watching as the Scion exited the store and into the sea of people outside. And like a shark inside as a school of fishes, people nearby kept their distance while the Scion simply went on unperturbed.

“For the trouble, we have slashed the price of the game to half of the original price, and we have bumped your priority on the delivery.” Ryphon added.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure to leave your store a high rating.” Marcus nodded.

“No sir. Thank you.” He smiled.