Nexus Prime; the city of the future

December 21, 11:31 pm.

I have recently freed up some space on my computer and un-installed a couple huge programs.

Somehow, my password was cleared from the login screen, but after a few panicked attempts, wondering if somehow, someone hacked my account...

I rez.

There is always the moment of wonder; where will I be when I arrive? Where did I log out (or crash?)

Gibson.

Gibson used to take almost 20 minutes to fully load but now, Nexus Prime, the cyberpunk city of the future, flickers fast into view, all dark, dirty and gleaming at the same time...

This place has been here since I began, over three years ago...I start to wander, feeling nostalgic.

One false step off the edge of a walkway and I've fallen into the Warren of shuttered buildings, girders, and graffiti. Lucky I'm quick to hit the 'fly' command, or that might have hurt.

I rise up out of the undercity, find a public terminal, and jack in.

I am transported to a black room with odd white lighting. Apparently a club called the Black Sun, and I am the only patron.

Binary numbers cascade down the nearest wall. I touch the stream of numbers and a notecard pops up in my HUD, detailing the locations in Nexus Prime. More notes follow concerning the few simple rules if one wishes to roleplay on this server. They all basically boil down to: don't be a jerk.

Then comes the note about the Tyrell Corporation, which states: "the Tyrell Corporation was the third user-made group in Second Life, and is currently the oldest surviving group. It has developed, razed, and redeveloped the Nexus Prime cityscape since March 2003."

Something that is older than me! A rare treat.

I explore the Black Sun and find the bar droid, and get a beer.

Then the lag monster slows my connection to a crawl. I stagger towards the exit and click the exit teleport. I am caught in the corner of the server for a moment while I am rerouted to the teleport location. I spin in place a few times and my hair flies up around me.

Suddenly, I am back in the Warrens, standing in front of the public terminal.

Not ten feet away, a person falls from the sky and lands in a heap on the cracked concrete.

Weren't watching their step, I suppose.