Dream XCIII

I transported myself to the new version of the internet, which was a giant building with white walls, about the size of a city block. Inside was a vast open space, filled with small piles of debris scattered here and there. Everything had a soft, grainy look to it, like the world was made of low resolution video.

All the games of the world were played here, and the game characters would stand around, waiting for a new person to materialize, so they could attack them. They would stand right next to the arriving person and shoot them over and over. The person would fade out, then return when transmission resumed, and the character would shoot them again. It was possible to move ever so slightly between arriving and being shot, and most people were eventually able to strike the character or otherwise push them away long enough to escape.

I was gathering information from various whiteboards located around the various debris piles, but I wasn't finding the information I needed. I spotted a long, dark corridor in one of the walls and followed that.

The resolution inside was much clearer, and the walls were made of a nice looking dark wood. Blue windows were scattered here and there, opening out into a soft blue nothingness. It was a much more pleasant environment than the hall.

At the other end of the hall, a figure in an astronaut suit stood near a lectern. I could barely see the face inside the helmet--I thought it had to be either Marlon Brando or Charlton Heston. I figured the best way to find out would be to ask him a question, and his voice would reveal his identity.

I asked him a polite pleasantry, and he smiled. He started telling me a history of the internet, and I realized he sounded exactly like Linus Van Pelt.