my so-called second life
It’s finally happened. Microcomputer technology has increased in power and decreased in price to the point where a middle-class American can enter an entire virtual world: 3-dimensional, visual, aural, even sensual (if you’re into that sort of thing, and buy the necessary accoutrements). You can look how however you want, do whatever you want, be whatever you want. You can shop, fight, fly, interact with people from all over the world, listen to live music, buy your own island… the ultimate in personal freedom. Virtually speaking, of course. Memories of the first time I read Neuromancer in the late 80’s and had my mind utterly and completely blown flit across my consciousness (is William Gibson the Jack Kerouac of Generation X?).
I made my first foray into Second Life (aka SL) for a specific purpose: to attend a First 1000 event organized by a friendly native of New Hampshire. [tangent] People sometimes ask me what NH natives think of the idea of thousands of libertarians “invading” their state. In all honesty, the positive responses have vastly outnumbered the negative in the 16 months I’ve been here. Some people think it’s, well, WEIRD that I would choose to move from the San Francisco Bay Area to New Hampshire. But almost nobody I’ve met seems to have a problem with it. Good natured ribbing from coworkers along the lines of “you will NEVER be mistaken for a Socialist” are the worst I’ve had to endure. And hey, insults like that sound more like compliments to me![/tangent]
So where was I? Oh yeah, friendly native. Not only do most NH residents seem to have no problem at all with independent liberty-loving types moving into their state, some have embraced us with open arms and seem to think we’re the greatest thing since sliced bread, or “Atlas Shrugged” in paperback. This particular native, whose last name happens to be Rand, karmically enough, thinks the Free State Project is so cool that he went to a good deal of time and trouble to throw a virtual party for us in SL, hoping to promote the First 1000 and entice more people to sign.
Last Saturday night I logged into SL, fashionably late for the First 1000 party. First thing I had to do was configure my “avatar”, which is my visual representation in the world of SL. Some users get extremely creative, making themselves manimals of various sorts, adding wings, etc. I was in a hurry, so I stuck with the basics and made myself look somewhat like I do in real life (on a good hair day, naturally). I walked around a bit, getting the hang of things. Then I IM’ed Mr. Rand, who helpfully told me how to teleport myself directly to the party.
The party was taking place in what looked like an outdoor amphitheatre, with a stage surrounded by stadium seating. Curious Alice-in-Wonderland-style people wandered about: a fellow in a kilt, smoking and blowing smoke rings (an FSP participant living in Minnesota); a guy with the head and tail of a fox; a woman in a tie-dye skirt (turned out to be a friend who lives up the valley in Derry); a guy radiating beams of rainbow-colored light; a mysterious glowing Buddha-like figure sitting serenely; and many others. Some of the people I recognized, because their in-world names matched their real names or known online handles. Several had guns and were egregiously violating safety procedures by firing wildly into the crowd of partiers (it’s OK, you can’t die in SL). A friend generously gave me an entire arsenal of weapons; I strapped a pistol to my hip and released my inner cowgirl. Another friend gave me a custom First 1000 T-shirt. Someone blew bubbles and we competed to see who could pop the most… with our guns.
In a nearby parking lot, a number of one-man mini-buses emblazoned with the First 1000 logo were free for the picking. Imagine Luke Skywalker’s hovercraft, only without the requirement to remain close to the ground. I hopped on mine and took it for a spin. The graphics were amazingly realistic. I was in love with my mini-bus! And, because this is VR, a vehicle big enough to fly me around in the air somehow manages to fit in my backpack when I’m not using it.
I took a break from the party to teleport over to the Gimme Liberty bar, owned and operated by an FSP participant in Utah. Again, the graphics were amazing; it really looks like a building you walk into, with furniture you can sit on, several kegs from which you can help yourself, and video screens on the wall that play videos of FSP participants engaged in various forms of civilly disobedient shenanigans.
Regular readers of this blog know that I’m obsessed with the TV show Firefly, so of course I had to check out the virtual Serenity in SL, where I met Jayne loitering in the cargo bay. He commented on the porcupine sitting on my shoulder (another party favor). I explored the ship, then teleported back to the party, where the sun had set and the crowd had thickened. An Australian jazz musician living in Japan was giving a live-virtual concert, with his avatar doing an admirable job of bouncing up and down while playing guitar. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any speakers hooked up to my computer and couldn’t hear a thing. So I went back to Serenity and started talking to Jayne. I asked him if he wanted to go to a party; he looked so sad, sitting alone in the cargo bay with his legs dangling over the walkway. He said sure, and offered me a pint of virtual Guinness. Back at the amphitheatre, we stood by the stage, watching the musician (whose avatar reminded me of the enormously tall Jamaican voodoo badguy from the James Bond movie “Live and Let Die”), swigging virtual beer, dodging bullets and an errant low-flying helicopter, and watching people dance. Jayne even put on an FSP T-shirt!
If your PC has the horsepower, I highly recommend checking out SL. Do a place search on “Gimme Liberty”, teleport to the bar, go upstairs to the observation lounge, and you’ll probably find some Free Staters slouched on the couch. Who knows, maybe we’ll even buy an island and turn it into the libertarian version of Fantasy Island.
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