You can probably remember your first taste of the meta verse back in the early days of second life. Who can forget such a compelling vision of the future as Wells Fargo’s “Stagecoach Island” or the hope for the future of the human race apparent in one of the online poetry reading sessions that I went to where avatars milling around in a mine craft style forest glade listened to utopian expositions on the interconnectedness of everything and the sunlit uplands that await us all once we are truly connected.
One thing that sticks with me from that time is a demo I saw at a financial institution that shall not be named. Not because I want to protect their image as valiant pioneers trailblazing across the newly minted territories but because it was a long time ago and I’ve completely forgotten who it was. Anyway I remember using a mouse to navigate my virtual self into a virtual bank branch where I found a virtual bank employee who proceeded to virtually annoy me by droning on about some credit card offer or other when I was trying to move money from one account to another (or whatever mundane bank activity I was engaging in). It was in colour and in 3D, but in every respect the experience was even worse than the web-based online banking they were using at the time. Now, of course, I realise that this was simply a reflection of the paucity of imagination amongst technologies such as myself. If you want a vision of the future, you need artists, not programmers who specialise in optimising parallel processing in graphics cards.
The central catastrophe of this scheme autism skua morph is is that as a customer I don’t want to go into a bank branch at all. I don’t care whether it’s a real bank branch or a virtual bank branch I just don’t want to go there. Embedded finance has delivered a much better version of the future where I go to do something I actually do want to do and via the miracle of Apis and micro-services the boring banking stuff gets done out of my field of view. I pull up my app and order a takeaway and it shows up at my door and somehow the payment gets done but I pay no attention to it and don’t care about it.
Similarly a supermarket video of meta verse shopping that was doing the rounds on Twitter a day or two ago displayed a similarly blinkered perspective. The consumer pushes a virtual shopping basket around a virtual supermarket while being shadowed by a sinister supermarket employee/political officer who chirpily steps in to advise on which wind by to go with the meat that you just purchased. No matter how nice the graphics are and no matter how skilfully the AI can make it seem to me that I’m being shepherded from shelf to shelf by Clint Eastwood or Sergio Aguero, the experience is dead. Real or unreal, I don’t want to go to the supermarket. I want to select some recipes from some suggestions and have the shopping service in the background source them and arrange delivery.
What’s important here is the distinction between virtual reality and hyperreality, between a digital simulation of the world and the construction of a world that existed only in the imagination. I’m not smart enough or visionary enough to know what the meta verse shopping experience should look like but if it is me putting on a headset to flog around the aisles of a virtual supermarket then that’s never going to gain traction. Why create something that is worse than the options we already have in front of us just so that it can be done in 3D?
Generally speaking, the idea that we will want to do things in the virtual world that are the same as the things that we do in the real world is ridiculous.
The words real and virtual no longer usefully describe the spaces available to us, the superposition of the mundane universe and the machine multi-verse.
In Marian Salzmann’s thought-provoking 22 for 2022, she talks about the sale of an NFT for cryptocurrency:
“In exchange for all those tens of millions of dollars, the buyer received a certificate of authenticity (guaranteed by blockchain) but not the work authenticated by it. Payment was in cryptocurrency, making the whole thing virtual. Did it really happen?”
This made me think: do we need some new words? We’ve inherited the words “real” and “virtual”, but they don’t seem to work properly in our soon-to-be disunited universe and metaverse.
Transactions that take place somewhere in the matrix, where I exchange bitcoin for a JPEG of the chimpanzee sunglasses are just as real as the transactions that take place in the supermarket around the corner from me. The transactions are all real but some of them take place in a mundane ecosystem, by which I mean an ecosystem that includes at some point physical being, and some of them take place in a virtual ecosystem, by which I mean an ecosystem that does not demand (or perhaps even imagine)