Five months ago.
It was a Wednesday when humanity learned that it was not alone in the universe. It was clear that they had been watching and listening to us for a while, because when they contacted us, it was in English.
"Greetings Humanity!" the message began, playing over every audio channel worldwide, encrypted or otherwise, "We at the Assembly of the Orion Arm would like to initiate cultural exchange with the people of Earth. We have noticed that you enjoy the exploration of collaborative virtual worlds, so you will need very little introduction to our shared world of Dreamshards, an institution of great cultural significance to us. We have also noted that you are not a unified race, and as such will be sending five key nexus stones, the maximum allowable under galactic law. We hope that you are able to equitably distribute the keys within, which will vest in three distinct waves. We look forward to engaging with you when you reach the necessary point."
The transmission originated in what was apparently empty space. A few months later an object was detected entering the solar system from that direction, on a course for Earth.
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Yesterday.
TOP SECRET // REL NUS
Orbital tracking confirms FIVE (5) objects have broken away from Object X-01, designated X-01-A through X-01-E. No other remains or fragments of X-01 were detected by any means. Object X-01-B was secured by team FIRST NOMAD.
Object appears to be a pink crystal, 1ft diameter. Does not appear to obey gravity, cannot be removed from current location. Object originally accompanied by several additional devices, all encased in a metal framework. After FIRST NOMAD arrived to secure the landing, a short range message was broadcast [see attachment A] after which all parts of the object except the central crystal appeared to ‘dissolve’.
Initial investigations suggest no obvious strategy for direct exploitation.
RECOMMENDATION: Auction object X-01-B to interested Corporate Entities, contingent on and with incentives for data sharing with regard to any scientific discoveries made through their exploitation.
TOP SECRET // REL NUS
The five objects landed safely at various points around the globe. Allegedly, there was a second message to those near the landing sites, including instructions for how to access the subscription keys within. Knowledge of the existence of these messages made its way out to the public through various channels, though the true contents were never made public in full.
One detail did leak, though. Key holders would be able, somehow, to obtain additional keys.
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Bobby,
I saw that in my absence we had somehow won the auctions for BOTH of the alien key things in the Americas. I also saw what we ended up paying. WHAT the HELL were you thinking? I take a sabbatical and you run rampant without me! I know it was you who convinced the board, this has your fingerprints all over it. We needed those cash reserves to carry us through our next release cycle. People just don’t trust the Digital Arts name the way they used to, and we will need to spend big on media in the next fiscal year.
I have seen the preliminary plans you submitted, and I’m telling you right now, you fucked up. There is literally no way to make back what we spent if we just gatekeep this thing, like some sort of exclusive activity only for the elite. The only people we could sell to are the aristocracy in Europe, and they have their own damn key stone! Worse, word is that the keys reproduce somehow!
The only way we can turn this around is volume, so you are going to use those initial keys to get more, at any cost. Figure out how it works, and then mass produce them. We are going to market them to EVERYONE. If you bungle this, so help me, I will see you lose your position with a lead parachute instead of a golden one.
Get your act together,
Jay
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Today.
"No, not fucking acceptable. I am not farming subscriptions for you." I had that sinking feeling that this was not going to go my way.
"Look, my hands are tied here. I can't offer first wave subscriptions without that provision. The board was VERY clear about that," said my adversary, some Associate Council for Digital Arts who's name I had already forgotten. "Will, listen, I know there is bad blood here, and we would really like to settle this before things escalate, but those provisions are beyond my power to remove."
"You don't even know the mechanics, much less the rates at which the subs will drop! Unless there was something in those additional messages from the aliens that the public doesn't know about?" I looked meaningfully at him.
"No, no, to my knowledge there is nothing like that. These are the targets the board put out for our first wave of testers, I can assure you that the targets for the second wave will be much more stringent once we are able to actually gather more information from the game."
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"Two years of overtime pay! Multiple grievous violations of employment law, so severe that I could get a tribunal to hear my case without having a lawyer! You guys fucked me, and now you want to rope me into working for you again, and in a worse position, as part of your settlement offer? You're insane! Fuck that. You want testers? Then put me on a standard tester contract, a legally recognized employment contract, at my normal rate. Two years, then all contract provisions terminate. No renewals. Then I'll agree to your stupid key farming. And I'll do one key a month, tops. Get me that in writing and I'll drop my claims."
He looked rather nervous at my suggestion, but spoke up after a few moments of consideration, "I'll have to run this by our Head Council, and get back to you."
He gathered up his notes (written on authentic dead-tree paper, an anachronism pretty much relegated to the legal profession and a few others where secrecy is paramount) and shuffled out of the room. I leaned back into the cushy chair, one of many in this executive meeting room. It was my second time in a meeting room like this, the previous being at my firing, and I was determined to enjoy the opulence at least a little bit this time around.
It was forty minutes later, by the clock I keep in my HUD, when I was awakened from my unexpected nap. A formally dressed older man that I didn't recognize had just closed the door, a sour look on his face, and was making his way to me with a rather sizable stack of paper. Paper for contracts too? These people are made out of money. I haven't decided yet if I hate them or want to be them.
"Mr. William Bekker? I'm Alan Ra, Head Council for DA," he introduced himself when he reached the table nearest the chair I was lounging in. He didn't sit down, nor offer a handshake. Instead he brandished the stack of paper in my direction. "The Board of Directors has empowered me to offer you this employment contract. I'm afraid that they will accept no further negotiation. Please review it and sign your name at the bottom of page 75." He tossed the stack to me, and then passed a pen across the table towards me, silver with intricate linear designs and the DA logo at the top. "I can't imagine that you have one of your own. Keep it." What a prick.
He spared me another look, dripping with condescension. He must have decided that I was simple, and didn't want there to be any chance at all for me to miss the fact that he looked down on me. "I'll be back later to collect the contract. Leave it behind and the AR guide will show you out." And with that, he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. I scanned the contract, and it looked mostly to be what I asked for. My augs flagged a few areas which looked questionable, and I took a look at each. Apparently, they were expecting me to do a full black-box forensic audit of the game, which if we are being totally honest, I was probably going to do anyway. My standard salary was tripled, which made me a little wary of what else might be lurking in the forest of innocuous seeming clauses.
I was also required to record all my sessions, which was shitty, but I could put up with it, and more importantly it was within my power to do so. I had last generation's bleeding edge tech - full sensory recording with visual, audio, and tactile feedback. I never got the taste and smell addons, useless in my line of work. I had heard that the newer stuff could record thoughts and ideas directly, but I felt a little queasy about tech that could read your mind directly. Also I couldn't afford the upgrade. Considering that this game was supposed to be a full sensory experience, interacting somehow with dreams, it was probably more of the latter than the former.
And then the final slap in the face. I was expected to bring them three new subscriptions every two months. I leaned back in the puffy chair and sighed. These people... they always need you to know your place, even when they are giving you what you want. It's pathological. Whatever. I looked at the remaining flagged areas. I would be required to release all my legal claims against DA related to my previous employment. That was fine, that was the reason for this meeting in the first place. I couldn't afford a lawyer, and any willing to work on contingency against DA would clean out most of what I would get if I won. I picked up the silver pen and signed the contract. This way, at least I can get something that I really want.
I had always liked exploring new worlds. Born way too late to explore the real world, the technology to explore the stars perpetually ten years out of reach, I ended up playing games instead. It took a few decades, but I worked my way through everything unique that I could get my hands on, and now there was nothing more for me. Everything just felt the same. Until now. I get to be in the first wave of players for an actually alien MMO. I get to play Dreamshards.
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The process of getting my key was really strange. I was flown to an undisclosed location, after which I was driven into the high security area, a steel vault in the middle of nowhere, and was ushered past a frankly ridiculous level of security. I had never seen powered exoskeletons in person. I guess it was to be a day of firsts for me. At the core of the vault, beyond several barricades staffed by dozens of men with guns, was the key nexus. It was a gleaming transparent crystal, tinged just the slightest bit pink. It looked unreal, hanging fixed in the air like it had never heard of gravity before, and really couldn't be bothered to learn about it from us. It certainly looked like something out of a video game, so I suppose it was appropriate. My escorts urged me forward, and as I drew nearer I could see tiny points of light flitting about inside the crystal. I was instructed to place my hand near the crystal, and as soon as I did one of the lights immediately changed course and surged towards my outstretched hand.
When the light made contact with the outer surface of the crystal, time seemed to halt, and I felt a question pop into my mind. It was a vague sort of query, and if my handlers hadn't let me know ahead of time, I would have been much more lost. I internally assented to the question, which was slowly unfurling into my mind. Something along the lines of asking if I was ready? I was told that it would gradually clarify itself, but it was simply asking if I wanted to accept the subscription to the game, so there was no need for me to delay. The light crossed the distance in a manner that reminded me of an electrical arc, though without the accompanying shock, and time was moving normally once more. I didn't feel any different. Weird.
To see the alien tech with my own eyes, that such a thing could exist at all, much less be used to distribute access to a game, was mind-blowing. Early on, a lot of tech ethicists warned that we were dooming our race by exposing our bodies and minds to literal alien technology. Now I better understood the response from the powers that be. The tech ethicists were ignored, and the more aggressive among them were discredited. We were already doomed, if the aliens so wished it. Playing with, or not playing with, the toys they gave us would make no difference in the matter. I was just happy to get to experience the game, guinea pig or otherwise.
I was led back through the layers of defenses staffed by stern-faced men and women. Digital Arts had spared no expense defending this thing, and I could see why now. Even if they couldn't recreate the alien game, stealing new mechanics and ideas for their own products, even if they somehow weren't able to profit from the selling of subscriptions farmed by my fellow guinea pigs, they could still almost certainly secure military and paramilitary contracts if they could unlock even a tiny fraction of the technology that went into that thing.
And that thought connected a few dots for me. Everyone that gets a key from a stone, plus everyone involved in securing one of the five stones, will think of this. Anyone at all with even a tenth of a brain will realize it eventually, and with so many people involved there is no way this will stay quiet. One of the other corpos, who were probably expecting something less ridiculous like a box of alien consoles with VR headsets, will reevaluate their choice to sit out this event. One of the nearby nations will start thinking really hard if risking nuclear retribution may actually be worth it. The world was not the wildly unstable mess it was a few decades ago during the Sino expansion conflicts, but the current peaceful era is not because of any good reasons and more a result of apathy and the widely held idea that there is nothing valuable enough to fight over. I looked at my hand, where the arc of light had touched it. There was no visible mark, but I was now starting to feel the presence of something, lurking somewhere in the corners of my consciousness.
I may have just made myself into a strategic resource in what will probably be a worldwide conflict. Fuck my life.