There was a bit of a commotion stirred up by my crossing the room and what looked to be a welcoming committee of bored rich people were waiting when I arrived. The lead was a woman in her early thirties, followed by a group of hanger-ons, with a vapid queen-bee look about her. She was dressed in expensive looking clothes made of lots of plastics and bright primary colors while her honey-blonde hair was braided together into some elaborate thing that draped across her left shoulder. Beside the woman, with his own entourage that was kept deliberately separate from her people, was a man in his late twenties with a sharp look that he held firm over his narrow nose. His suit was immaculate, a far cry from my own jeans and a hoodie, but cut in such a way that it was hard to tell if it was accentuating his physique or just creating the illusion that he had a physique worth mentioning at all.

"New money?" the lady asked as I approached, not stopping to hear my reply. "It is so good to see people applying themselves these days! That good old entrepreneurial spirit! Just come right here and let Maggie introduce you to the wonders that money can buy!" She tried to usher me to her side, grabbing my arm, but was stopped by the man who placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Now, now. Isn't it better to introduce ourselves first." The woman huffed but stopped trying to pull me away. "My name is Ralph Balderson; yes, one of those Baldersons. To whom might I have the pleasure of meeting today?" He held out his hand expectantly and I reached for a businesslike shake. It was hard not to raise an eyebrow at his name, 'Balderson's' was a string of supermarket/grocery stores that you could find nearly everywhere. This guy wasn't just rich, he was 'buy his own island for vacations and then never visit' levels of rich.

"Johnny Max Riker," I replied. I wanted to say more but there really wasn't anything I could think to say; it isn't every day that you meet the super rich. I just didn't have the experience to know how to hold up a conversation with him, considering our different lifestyles.

He nodded along as though my reply were expected before charging forward. "Now, of course, lets not ignore the elephant in the room. We are all quite interested to hear what brings you to our side of the room? Moreover, why did you begin by standing with those... others?" His question was polite but we could all but hear what was behind it. I didn't look like a rich person so why was I standing here with all the other rich people? If I was a rich person then why stand with the poor people?

Unfortunately I didn't have a good answer to him. "My career in the gaming industry was slowing down so I decided this was my next step. One of my contacts helped arrange for me to get in immediately so I was a bit rushed in my preparations." I had a momentary thought about leaving it at that, perhaps let them think I was independently wealthy somehow, but changed my mind quickly. Some of the followers had their high-tech phones out and were doubtlessly looking me up as I spoke. Better to be honest and be embarrassed than to hide things and be seen as a liar. "Look, I'm not rich, not like you all. I'm just a working guy who has decent connections."

It took only a moment for my words to sink in. Maggie harumphed and pulled back from me like I was infectious. "It is like that other one, the sir who 'won the lottery'." She made air quotes and made a disgusted face. "What is the point of a person who can't even live with a decent lifestyle?"

Ralph smiled, though it was a bit more strained and less expectant than previously. "Now lets not get too ahead of ourselves. He may not carry the," he paused as though looking for the right word " 'expectations' of before, but he certainly must have done something to get himself here."

Before I could say anything he was approached by one of his people who showed him a picture on his phone and whispered something to him. Whatever it was, it caused him to look at me again with a raised eyebrow. "The 'gaming industry', you said. I didn't know you worked on that side of the business structure." I could almost see the interest draining away from his face. "It is so sad what has happened with all the upcoming talents, but it is good to see that some of you have made it out."

The woman, who had just been informed about who I was from one of her people, reacted much more harshly and with a shrillness that made it hard to be near her. "SEE!! He is just poor and useless! What is the point of someone like that?"

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The man turned away, heading back somewhere else. He spoke again, but not to me and not with any real hope in his voice. "Now, now. There is no reason to be rude. Perhaps he may have some value later?" He trailed off as he walked away, soon followed by the lady and her minions. There were a few others in the crowd who looked at me for a second before bowing to peer pressure and rushing off.

As for myself, I turned to find somewhere to go and eventually ended up next to a couple of disaffected teenager standing around the outside next to a wall. One was a heavily pierced girl, though not so much as to be grotesque, with died black hair and clothes that were just short of goth. The other was a teenager in an older style suit with crossed arms and wearing a frown. They made an odd pair. Also, they were some of the only ones not actively trying to avoid me or giving me pitying looks after the earlier encounter.

"Rachael Maslow, third child of a rich dynasty you've never heard of." Introduced the female of the two with a wave of her hand. Her other had a pad with some sort of database she was scrolling through. "My friend here is Steven Brown, disgraced heir of another couple rich people. Welcome to the worst of the best."

"Shut the fuck up." Steven answered back without any real heat. "We aren't all that bad off."

She turned her head in an exaggerated eye roll motion. "Johnny here is probably the only one not a rich person in disgrace or one of their 'people'. Might as well share the bad news before he gets his hopes up."

"That's not," he started before straightening his posture. His arms remained crossed and the frown never left his face. "I will regain my title. This is just one step toward that goal."

"Yeah? And I'm in line to be the Queen of England. I'm a couple hundred spots down but, you know, that could happen too." He made an unhappy growl but didn't interrupt her. She turned to look back toward me without moving her body from its place. "Look, you seem like a decent guy, at least as far as professional trolls go, so I thought I would warn you what we all are. Keep you from having the wrong type of expectations, you know? So, what do you know about rich people problems? Like super dirty rich people."

I glanced over at her before rolling my eyes. "Either petty junk or 'only' getting what others would dream of having. There is probably more to it than that, but I'm not rich so I wouldn't know."

My response got a reaction from both of them. Another angry growl from Steven and an amused snort from Rachael, who then answered back. "Yeah, that's true for some of them. The thing is that the super hyper rich people in the world stay rich by making investments. There is no way to work hard enough to make a few billion dollars, so you have to make other people do it for you. The thing is that the more money you invest the more efficient your return and the more control you have over the market you're investing in. So how do you make a dynasty? Give everything to the oldest or the 'best' kid and leave the rest with a pittance and no real contacts or social capitol. The 'heir and a spare' rules apply. So that's what we all are: the third children and displaced heirs that don't have a chance."

She then turned back to her friend. "And even if we do make it big in The Game, nothing will change. We are the disposable children sent in to test if 'alien virtual reality' might be suitable and beneficial for the children who actually matter." She turned to look back toward me and continued. "Even if you do hold to the idea that rich people are some sort of higher being, and the people in this room make a strong argument against that belief, we are all the worst of the best; the failures who don't matter anymore. And that knowledge, whether we want to admit it or not, changes us. In the best case we make peace with it and try to do the best with the hand we are delt." She waived her hand in demonstration as she poke. "In the worst we hold onto empty hopes and never live life because we are trying for something that will never happen." She pointed her thumb back at her friend.

"Look, I get it," Steven answered back with a sigh. "You want me to live my life for what is best for me and not my family. But that just isn't who I am. I might not be willing to go as far as some," he nodded toward the pair of popular people making their way toward a threesome of pods that looked far more impressive than the rest, "but, so long as there is a chance, I've got to do what is best for the family." Then his voice took on a more determined tone. "I will not be the forgotten child, the sacrificed sibling, the left-overs." His voice began to trail off at the end.

There were a few moments of silence and I thought about walking off.

Before I did, though, he broke the silence. "What I want to know is why you are talking with this other guy?" He motioned in my direction as he spoke. "Usually you just tell randoms to 'fuck off'."

"Well first, he seems to be an ok guy from what I can find online." That prompted a disbelieving eye roll so she continued quickly. Her first explanation had fooled no one. "Also having him over here means that the crowds will part for him when they call him up to his pod." She let out an evil grin. "I want to see the look on the debutants faces when they realize that the most expensive pod is going to the guy in the hoodie."