Δόλος
When virtual reality becomes perfect, i will bring you into my universe.
Unknown, circa roughly 2019
The year is 2039. Like the big brothers and the big blue social networks before it, it has completely enveloped the world in its embrace. People have been quick to adopt it. No matter the race, gender, or creed. It is everywhere. There is no room for competition, no space for dissent. It has swallowed the space between mountains named for the material the early chips were made of. It is Silicon Valley, and Silicon Valley, it.
The world is always sunny. There is always a cool breeze blowing, tickling the skin to one’s fancy. It always smells of the good things in life, warm, freshly baked cookies, lightly watered roses, red, fresh, pink. There is good cheer, and the taste of what humanity had worked so hard to achieve, and almost didn’t until a few years ago.
You see them everywhere. No need for a logo, for branding. There is no competition. Everyone knows. Everyone has one. It is cheap. They are a company with values. You just know that. They are philanthropic. You know without knowing for sure how it is you know. They donate to good causes. In a way, they are responsible for the crowning achievement of mankind’s history.
The world is at peace. No, seriously. There is world peace. No wars, no warring peoples. There is peace. Humanity is finally at peace. The fighting that began with Cain and Abel, the fighting that began so long ago, the dust has settled, and brothers are sitting arm and arm, beautific smiles on their faces.
They are responsible for it. No one else. Them. They have made it so that the world can finally live in joy and harmony. This is their brand. Not the thing they made. This is their legacy. That too, you know fully.
It has so happened that in the last few years, governments have been done away with. Good riddance. It seemed like as long as they were in power, they represented their own interests, not the vested ones of the people they were supposed to serve. Organized governments had lost their way. Wars, famine, pestilence, all the tragedies were from them, came from them. A way to subdue the race. No more. No longer.
The world is always sunny. It is so finely pixelated that you cannot tell it from the world of your youth. You do not want to see the world now. So you keep it on.
Dolos. Δόλος.
That is who finally saved the world. The company. Everyone knew their name, no matter what lord you served, you knew they were your Messiah.
You never turned off the device, some even had it implanted in them, permanently. For them, their reality had become the one that was served to their brain through this device, not the hazy, smoke filled, oxygen depleted world outside. This was their world now. This was their reality now.