Where once Cheryl Wayne and her cadre of Silicon Valley cohorts shook the world with a vision of immortality and progress; now there was near universal distrust and fear of digital reality across North America and the rest of the old-stock pure-human analogue world.

These days the land the where the original World Summit headquarters had been located in California, was deemed too close to living breathing people who could be perverted and corrupted by salacious outsiders, and their wicked and immoral ways.

At the same time Earth – more specifically, the United States – hadn’t wanted to give up her political clout. Having such a blatant an example of the waning of American influence and might, right in the ghost town that used to be its own Tech heartland, wasn’t acceptable either.

The United Worlds Summit was now held near the old Earth City of Thunder Bay. They’d moved the entire United Worlds Secretariat complex into the frigid windswept Northern Ontario wilderness nearly 70 years ago. Originally the site had been selected because it was out of the way, because the land needed to build the massive 60 Square kilometer miniature diplomatic city was inexpensive, and because one of the architects preferred Tim Horton’s coffee and liked that there was good trout fishing nearby.

The cloning process didn’t take very long. One instant, Humongous Testicles was laying down inside an emersion pod inside the virtual world office space of Mongoose Corporations Alpha Complex, and an indeterminate time later the President was waking up, inside a freshly prepped physical body lying on a slab.

Humongous Testicles immediately started to scratch.

After scratching for a good five minutes, he took a better look around. Humongous was naked of course, and speaking candidly and honestly, he was no longer humongous. He scratched himself there, and it flopped properly. He thought improper thoughts, and it stiffened. At least everything was working properly.

Through his sleep fogged brain two thoughts occurred to him. One, he was now a ginger. While that was terrible enough, his second discovery was worse. He – Humongous no longer, now simply Average Testicles – had a foreskin. Both discoveries were distressing to a Jewish man.

There were people who did business with Earth on a regular basis who had their own private clones. These clones actually looked like manifestations of their digital bodies. Not so 21st century Earth. Considering this was only his third trip to Earth during his Presidency, having a private clone on ice just wasn’t cost effective.

His original genetics and full body scan was embedded in his Character Sheet. A genome version of his digital body could be compiled in seconds. President Humongous / Average testicles knew that everything about him was backed-up in multiple locations around the server world. And while he’d once sworn he would never set foot in his old worn out human body ever again, his digital avatar was beyond fine. If he’d spent enough moola he could be scratching his own personalized bodily itches. Instead the administration had sprung for a premium generic clone body. But a Ginger? He looked like a carrot.

After a while, Humongous got off the clone slab, and walked naked into an adjoining bathroom. He took a piss. Then feeling dirty, while knowing the feeling was entirely psychosomatic, Humongous took a shower.

After washing off, he stepped back into the room he’d woken in. Glancing at a mirror, he considered himself. Not bad. He would probably look better if his cybernetic implant wasn’t taking up half his head. If Humongous had to guess, he would say that his clone body was racially Irish. Good musculature. His package was smaller, ugh… average, more average than he was used to, yes, but considering this was RL it was probably a decent size.

Against the far wall, was a fashionista’s gushing wet dream. Mongoose Cloning Corporation had provided his suite with an acre of clothing. Everything was here. Designer suits, check. Slinky Black Dresses, check. Hawaiian shirts, check. Flip-flops, check. Togas, check. Tuxedos and evening gowns, check. Loincloths, check. Bikinis and Mankinis, check. Buckskins, check. Summer dresses, check. Pant Suits, check. Cybernetic enhances scouting armor, check. Grand and garish looking ermine fringed robes, check. Mantles, check. Gold and diamond encrusted crowns, check and check.

Humongous Testicles was actually tempted, just for a moment, to put on Royal Attire. But what would his loyal voters back home think. America had no appetites for Presidents who wanted to make themselves Kings. Undoubtedly there was media from back at home watching the event.

Instead, President Testicles put on a custom tailored black designer business suit, that fit him quite well. After all the entire wardrobe had been custom fit to his specific body, the clothing was simply provided for denizens of a countless number of worlds to feel comfortable.

He walked into the hallway and his Chief of Staff Robert Loblaw was waiting for him with the rest of his security detail. They were all in the best clones available, and the massive cybernetics covering half their heads clearly announced that they were something not completely human.

“Loose the crown sir.” Robert said.

“Awww. I just thought it matched the tie.”

“Loose the crown.” Robert repeated.

“Oy Vey! Sometimes Bob, you’re a massive pain in the tuches,” said Humongous as he casually tossed the crown back into the room he’d just come out of.

“Sir.” Said the lead Secret Service officer, “before we leave the room we should synch our cybernetics.”

Computer technology had come a long way since the first of the online habitats had been established. Outside of the Valley in California, those first widespread servers had been massive structures that could only hold a few hundred or thousand people.

Most Servers, in those days, were located on University Campuses. Computer Science Majors and Computer Engineers could study them, dreaming of big Startup dollars. Students could take advantage of virtual campuses that offered 10 to 1 time-dilution ratios. Faculty could teach in virtual auditoriums. A wealth of knowledge could be read in virtual libraries, and the top floor of those virtual libraries were still quiet, badly lit places, just right for a little privacy and a bit of virtual bow-chica-bow-bow.

As their usefulness grew, the size of the servers shrunk. More capacity was added. Moore’s Law took on an entirely new meaning, when technologists began building processors with atoms, electrons, and then finally with hadrons, leptons and their various antimatter particulate parallels. Sub-quantum computing was the backbone of the Server World architecture.

The gangly cybernetic head-gear that Earth made Server World diplomats, staff, and visitors wear these days was not because science hadn’t been able to miniaturize implants. Of course the Server Worlds could reduce the size of this tech.

The most current iteration of cybernetic implant that provided translation functions, query engines, security, instantaneous cerebral and sensory backup, and oodles of storage in a modular configuration that about 1.5 square centimeters, by a couple millimeters deep. They were used in space stations and places where people just had to work, and NPC’s or AI’s just couldn’t.

The bulky cybernetics of Earth were a dozen or so generations obsolete. These electronics were designed to make people stand out. Wearing these bulky cybernetic apparatuses wasn’t about utility anymore. Wearing half a head worth of steel and silicon ensured that people from off world were limited on where they could go, and would stand out wherever they went. This was an age of rampant paranoia and the Earth saw foreign spies even where there were none.

The more Earth kvetched about foreign spies, the more Humongous wanted to plant foreign spies. He currently had three. They really didn’t do much since there was very little that Humongous cared about on Earth. But the simple fact that Earth went to so much trouble to prevent spying made having spies irresistible.

That was one of the big reasons Humongous hated being down here on this planet, Earth’s various governments had, increasingly over time become xenophobic, fundamentalist, and myopic.

Mongoose Cloning corporation was a premium full service cloning facility. As the President and his team left their quarters, a young woman, dressed in a smart business suit, herself obviously a clone due to her quite visible and bulky titanium headgear, handed Robert Loblaw a foler.

“This is your itinerary. For your safety we have a limo waiting to pick you up from our departure area and deliver you to the entrance to the convention center closest to your seating. I’ve included your entry badges. All of you have Indigo security clearance, and are officially registered as Knights of the Circular Objects. Don’t be paranoid, the computer is watching you, and will take care of all your needs, if any arise.”

“If you don’t mind my asking. What are you doing down here on Earth?” The President said.

The woman looked around as if to make sure no one was watching her, then she said. “I came down here a few years ago. On vacation. I wanted to see the Solar System. I’m originally from the Omega Complex. Working on Earth pays really well. They have such a hard time hiring the locals. Or, finding people from the server worlds who want to work on earth. I’m saving up. Maybe someday I’ll make my way all the way out to Pluto.”

“The Omega Complex? I’m not familiar with that World.” Said Robert Loblaw.

“Can’t see why you would be. We keep to ourselves mostly. We’re one of the Server worlds in the Outer Gossamer Rings of Jupiter. Little place, but it’s home.”

“Wow.” Said the President “I don’t envy you your home world. I’ve heard of you Jupiter Ring settlers. You’ve got it hard wedged between the Poynting Drag and the Jovian magnetosphere. I’ve heard you have to be pretty rugged to live on one of those worlds.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“It isn’t that bad.” Their guide said “Maybe in the old days. The old timers tell stories. The AIs do most of the hard work. We have shields around the server farm. Most of the stellar dust was cleared up long ago. Harvested to build the servers in the first place. Jupiter provides plenty of hydrogen and helium for fusion power. Plus, we don’t have to worry about Solar Flares as much as those of you guys who live in those artificial rings they constructed around Venus. It’s a little remote. But nothing too bad. It’s home.”

Then the guide said. “You really should be on your way. Your car is waiting, if you want to follow me.”

The guide led them into a huge departure center. The interior of area where they’d woken up was deceptively segmented to offer privacy. Mongoose Cloning Corporation was one of the three corporations that dealt with the clone needs of people from tens of thousands of worlds, and so their departure center was a mass of limousines, buses and even a regularly scheduled mono rail to the convention center.

21st Century North America had sprung for a Limo for the President, and their guide led them to where it waited.

“Remember, synch your cybernetics to the Limousine and you will always be able to find your transporation, even in a crowded parking space. You can also send mental commands for this limo find you and come and pick you up,” their guide said.

“Hey, I know you want to go out to Pluto,” said President Testicles, “but you might want to visit my little corner of the Solar System. 21st century America is plenty of fun. We have the Big Lizard in Big Sky, Marlin Fishing off the Coast of Florida, Gregor’s Dungeon, a bunch of roller coasters, and you should see our Grand Canyon. Way more Grand than the real thing.”

“I’ll think about it Mr. President. Have a pleasant Assembly.” The President groaned not wanting to be reminded.

Humongous Testicles leaned back into the seat of the limo. The convention center was only a short distance away. A quick drive. An entire industry however, had sprung up around the area. There were hotels for visiting dignitaries, permanent embassies, homes for ambassadors and their staff, shops, grocery stores, restaurants, bars, coffee houses, pot dispensaries, bowling alleys, and even combat training facilities, schools, libraries, power stations, police stations, and fire stations.

All of it was walled in and domed off. And most of the staff that was working here had been born off of Earth, or had been born on Earth, been digitalized, and had come back.

It hadn’t always been like this.

The people outside the walls, the regular people who still lived and died on the Earth, passionately hated, their very own descendants; the people who lived beyond their own atmosphere.

When the United Worlds enclave had been built, all area around Thunder Bay had been wilderness. A mixture of Canadian crown lands, an Ojibwe reserve, a small national park, and some privately owned property.

Those days were long gone. Around the compound, massive buildings had sprung up. The earth had a population that was estimated at 132 Billion People. Even land that had once been considered desolate, hard to grow crops on, cold, or burning hot like the Nunavut, Greenland, the Sahara Desert, Suriname, and Mongolia had been constructed.

The original Home of humanity was now a continuous weed infested undergrowth of housing, hydroponics, and industrial. There was a Holocene extinction event in full force outside – with wildlife outside of zoos, pets, livestock, research departments, shooting farms, and vermin – extinct. The atmosphere around the planet was artificially maintained. If carbon dioxide hadn’t been scrubbed from the air constantly, the world would have quickly become a broiling nightmare of greenhouse gasses.

The limousine pulled into the convention center. There was a red carpet, at every entrance and a clone ran up to the limo door to let the President out. Humongous and Robert Loblaw were quickly surrounded by his own secret service agents who led him into the building.

The interior itself was a little bit like a football stadium, except instead of arena chairs, there were thousands of luxury suits, from where dignitaries and their aides could observe or take part in the discussion.

As much as Humongous hated being down here, he had to admit that this was a prime schmoozing ground. Thousands of trade deals would probably be hashed out at this meeting, even thought that was not the purpose of coming together today. He’d already set a vanguard of diplomats to hang around and chat, and hopefully they would bring back some primo economic deals.

The convention area itself was a broad bowl, surrounded by luxury boxes. In the center of the of what Humongous couldn’t help but refer to as a stadium were holographic projectors. Dignitaries could talk in their suits and their images would be projected 20 meters high so that everyone could watch in comfort. This was mainly for the delegates of earth. For the Virtual world people, there was also a direct link to their cybernetic implants.

The piece de resistance for coming here, at least to President Humongous Testicles was the display on the ceiling. It was the main reason why he came in person. Spread out across the convention center ceiling, in glorious light and holographic projection, was a scale model of the entire current solar system.

The Sun at the direct center gave and off light that illuminated the darkness.

Each of the 8 planets and the 124 Dwarf Planets – those that still hadn’t been broken down for raw materials – were shown in scale and by location. Artificial ring systems around Venus and natural rings systems around Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune, and hybrid ring systems around Jupiter. The huge web of laser light that was modern civilization’s nerve system and life-blood spread out across the ceiling’s version of the night sky.

Humongous Testicles’ eyes drifted out to the Kuiper Belt. There were the millions of asteroids that were currently being prepped to be launched out into space. Tiny specks of glimmering dust twinkling in the light of the sun. Soon these asteroids would be pushed up to 10% of light speed, while AI on each asteroid would, break them down, to construct a node for an interstellar laser network. Asteroids were being prepped to be sent towards Wolf 359, Lalande 21185, Sirius and Luyten 726-8. These would join the growing network that had already been pushed outward towards Alpha Centauri and Bernard’s Star.

In about fifty to one hundred years chains of meteorite satellites would stretch outwards from Earth to each of our nearest star system neighbors. It was a monstrous engineering task that had taken the combined economic resources of almost all the major world servers. Humongous Testicles had been proud to take part in it. It was something he would probably tell his grandchildren about.

Soon there would be a Silk Road of laser light. A massive highway of data being passed back and forth, originating at Earth, but stretching out into the solar system, and from there, out into the solar system’s nearby star systems. One day it would be as trivial, for an inhabitant of the virtual worlds to visit an entirely different solar system, as it was to visit another server world. As easy as stepping into the Hall and taking a train to a solar system destination far-far away.

And displayed way-way-way over there were representations of the seed ships. Massive structures built out of steel, titanium, and carbon. These ships were the reason the seats and booths were filled here today.

If people asked Humongous opinion, the ships would never do what their creators imagined them doing. They were slow, expensive, and inefficient. In Humongous mind they were important for PR value and nothing more.

For earth, in Humongous’ mind, a better stopgap method was already in the works. Slowly in another part of the solar system model, giant ships projecting huge focused gravity fields ere pushing the Mars into the solar system’s Goldilocks region of space. Thousands of ice comets from the Oort Cloud were being driven toward the red planet, each bearing a precious payload of water. Machines were in production, soon to pump Nitrogen, Oxygen and other gasses outward to replenish Mars’ sparse atmosphere.

Humongous contemplated the heavens as he stepped into his VIP room. There already were people in the 21st century North America server event box. The delegation from 21st century Mexico was seated wearing the official garb of the Ferdinando Presidency, Sombreros, belts of bullets draped across their chests. El Presidente has a massive handlebar mustache and looked more like Pancho Villa than a presidential figure should probably look.

“¡Hola, Testículos Gigantescos, my friend! How are you today.”

“Good, Good. Thank you, President Fernando Ortega. Yourself?”

“How can someone as guapo as myself possibly be bad?” Said El Presidente.

“And how are you Kim Campbell-Trudeau,” Humongous Testicles said to the Prime Minster of Canada.

“Do you see what they are doing outside?” Prime Minster Campbell-Trudeau said, pointing at the news feed on the 2D television that was showing the news over by the mini bar. There were about twenty thousand people outside the convention center. Some had Molotov Cocktails, others were carrying signs, still others were hammering their fists at the meter thick Q-carbon wall which kept them out.

“Protesters.” Said Humongous Testicles, “Same as always. Religious fanatics who want us of ‘their’ planet, while they want us to solve all their problems, out in space. We’ve offered them solutions, and they still hate us and don’t like any of the solutions we have offered them. What’s new?”

President Humongous Testicles then sat down in a comfy leather couch facing the center of the stadium. “Has anybody ordered room service. I’ve had a long trip and I could kill for a beer and some pizza.”