Webspace

By GJ Kelly

In the not-too-distant future, the exponential rate of computer and software development has reached staggering proportions. Nowhere is this more evident than the internet. With the advent of 100 megabyte data transfer rates, and CyberSystems Incorporated websuit technology, virtual reality has become alternate reality.

Equipped with a websuit and a data terminal, users can meet in 3-D cyberspace. They can touch, and feel, everything. Complex safety systems exist to ensure that no harm can come to users on the ’net, or so it is generally believed.

More and more, alternate reality is used for business and pleasure. There is no longer any requirement for travel; with almost all major business conducted on the web, commuter traffic is almost a thing of the past. And why pay through the nose for a foreign holiday, when at the flick of a switch you can visit any luxury resort without leaving the comfort of your own home?

But the advent of near-perfect physical representation in webspace brought with it social and legal problems on an unprecedented scale. Officer Mack901, together with his colleagues working for the Central Net Server Agency, is charged with policing the web, ensuring that people are who they say they are. Armed with formidable software, he is able to go where ordinary users cannot, and with software stealth technology he spends his working life hunting down hackers and fraudulent registrations.

But there is more to webspace than meets the eye. A secret society, The Doomwatch Group, have been silently monitoring internet activity since its inception in the 1960s. When Mack901 begins investigating allegations of Physical Violations on the web, he is contacted by the mysterious group of anonymous watchers. Physical Violations, in spite of all software and hardware safety measures, are real.

Soon Mack is drawn into a surreal but nevertheless life-threatening nightmare, both in the real world and in alternate reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GJ Kelly
• Release date: Aug 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301180141

GJ Kelly

GJ Kelly was born near the white cliffs of Dover, England, in 1960. He spent a significant part of his early life in various parts of the world, including the Far East, Middle East, the South Atlantic, and West Africa. Later life has seen him venture to the USA, New Zealand, Europe, and Ireland. He began writing while still at school, where he was president of the Debating Society and won the Robb Trophy for public speaking. He combined his writing with his technical skills as a professional Technical Author and later as an internal communications specialist. His first novel was "A Country Fly" and he is currently writing a new Fantasy title.He engages with readers and answers questions at:http://www.goodreads.com/GJKelly and also at https://www.patreon.com/GJ_Kelly

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Webspace

Copyright © GJ Kelly

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-1-

Mack901 felt old. Tired. Worn out, at 36. He lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling through the gloom. It was still dark, which at eight in the morning in April could only mean it was raining again.

Ah well, he thought, Time to die.

And with that he climbed out of bed, strode naked into the bathroom, and stepped into the small glass cubicle. He closed his eyes, reached out his right hand, and grasped the small metal lever. He shivered at the contact, skin crawling with goosebumps, and steeled himself for the shock to come.

Goodbye, cruel world. Mack901 muttered, eyes still screwed shut, and with a curious sense of deja vu, flipped the lever.

The icy water that blasted from the shower-faucet struck him full in the face, and he recoiled as if from a blow.

Jesus! he gasped, pent-up breath exploding from his lungs, and thought that one day the morning ritual probably would kill him.

When he'd finished in the bathroom, Mack strode back through the bedroom, through the apartment's living-room, and into the small cubicle that served as his office. The black websuit hung limply from a hook on the wall beside Mack901's terminal, and he regarded it with distaste. It smelled of latex, and sweat, and French chalk.

It took Mack a few moments to zip himself into the suit, pull the hood over his head, and slip on his visor. Then he switched on the terminal, and shut the office door.

The office was little more than a box-like room about six feet square and eight from floor to ceiling. All the walls were padded, as was the floor, and dotted with infrared and pressure-sensors to interpret his movements.

After a few seconds the terminal mounted in the wall to his right booted up, and Mack901 found himself looking at the entrance doors to the Precinct.

User name and login codes, please. an ethereal female voice asked.

Mack901 sighed, and repeated another morning ritual. Mack-dot-901, Badge Number JTT-slash-565-slash-901-slash-4705. Login code one, Bigstone quillpen, login code two,

And with that, Mack901 performed a curious set of movements, arms, hands and one leg waving gracefully. The sensors in his workroom detected the coded movements, and transmitted them to the web-server's security office.

Officer Mack901 recognised. Please proceed to Precinct Room Seven. There are no messages for you on this server. Have a nice day, Officer Mack901.

Thanks. You too. Mack grunted, and began 'walking' towards the Precinct's double doors.

Mack901 was a web security officer, and had been for three years now. Most of his time was spent wandering around in the three-dimensional virtual-reality cyberspace where countless hundreds of thousands worked or played on the internet.

In the old days, people met on the web and chatted with one-another using their PCs and monitors and keyboards. The advent of virtual reality avatar software rendered keyboards practically obsolete, people began exploring 3D cyberspace using their VR visors and mice, meeting with thousands of others in custom-built 3D cyberstations.

Back then, 'net users could adopt any number of avatar identities. One day, a user could represent himself or herself in cyberspace as a fish, the next a penguin, and the next, well, anything they wanted to be. Most of the meetings that took place in cyberspace were good-humoured affairs, although there were always offensive idiots who ran through the stations screaming foul language and abuse. But it brought the science-fiction dream of the global village much closer to reality than many had believed possible a scant sixty years ago.

Improvements in communications, computers and software soon made it possible for the somewhat crude avatars to be replaced by accurate facsimiles of human beings. Indeed, once the ten megabyte-per-second data access rate to the 'net had been well and truly broken, it became possible for users to adopt human avatars that were near-perfect.

The 'net explosion that followed was incredible. A user could adopt any identity he or she wished. In fact, users could slip on their visors and portray themselves in the cyberstations as perfect physical specimens, male or female, depending on their tastes. And, with live 3D, the possibilities seemed endless. Users could take part in activities which they were physically incapable of in the real world. And the pornography rooms had to be seen to be believed.

Every fantasy could be accommodated. The lame and the crippled could take part in sports beyond their wildest dreams. The lonely could find their perfect partners, the depraved could satisfy their every whim.

Business, too, prospered. From boardroom to salesroom, the 'Net held the answer. Why travel to Hong Kong for a meeting, when the business community could meet in a sealed room in cybercity, face-to-face, without so much as stepping foot outside their real-world homes and offices?

For almost ten years the web grew at an unparalleled pace. And then CyberSystems Inc. produced the websuit, and virtual-reality became alternate-reality.

The websuit was filled with gel-pack sensors and transducers, and fit the user like a second skin. With it, and the custom-built 100 mega-byte-per-second fibre-optic communications interface, a user could literally feel cyberspace. Now, every move the user made was accurately reflected by his or her avatar. And you could touch other people, and objects, in the cyberstation rooms.

Built-in sensitivity controls were supposed to prevent physical injury. But lately, it was rumoured that hackers had found a way of overriding a user's pre-set sensitivity selection, and there had been disturbing accounts of deaths by asphyxiation...

Sex, of course, was one of the more immediate benefits and uses of the websuit. Couples, or even groups of people, could meet in the privacy of sealed rooms in cyberspace and fulfil their every whim and preference. That, together with the ability to adopt an avatar of significantly improved physical characteristics than the user actually possessed, led to many a disappointment when real-life encounters followed.

Rape, too, was alleged to have occurred in cyberspace, and Mack901 had no doubt of it. Unfortunately, no country in the world could prosecute such an alleged offence. Since the assault took place in virtual reality, and not in the real physical sense, criminal prosecution was impossible. Also, the offence was easy to allege, but practically impossible to prove. There was no physical evidence, for one thing. Intercourse had not actually taken place, only simulated intercourse via websuit stimulation. And users by definition volunteered to put on the suits. Furthermore, an emergency log-out was available to return a panicked user to the real world if necessary.

When Mack reached Precinct Room 7, one of the duty sergeants was inside, consulting with a computer screen that seemed to float in mid-air in front of him.

Ah, Mack. Good to see you. Had a report of unregistered avatar activity in cyberstation three. Check it out, would you? Informant's ID is Red_Nails66.

Okay. I'll grab something to eat first. It could be a long day, Alphaworld's a vast server.

Right. Well, keep in touch then.

Mack nodded, and spoke towards the ceiling. Logoff.

Cyberspace disappeared and Mack was back in his workroom, staring at the blank, padded wall in front of him. He disconnected his websuit, pulled open the door, and went into to the kitchen to make breakfast.

oOo

-2-

The rising tide of litigation that swept the cyberised nations following the mass acceptance of websuit 'net technology prompted a meeting of Heads of States that went down in history as The Net Talks '17. As a result of this meeting, an international agreement was reached which effectively enacted a law requiring all 'net user avatars to be registered with the Central Net Server Agency. The law stated that where human avatars were adopted by users, the avatars must be an accurate facsimile of the users themselves. Avatar registration was proof that the human figure you met in a cyberstation was genuine.

No longer could the physically inadequate hide behind their masks of Adonis or Aphrodite. They could, of course, adopt non-human avatars, but that made the whole cyberspace surf practically pointless and the websuit redundant. Nor could a user change his or her gender on the 'net.

An amendment to the '17 Protocol was made in 2020, and this permitted the disabled to enjoy the benefits of a fully-mobile avatar on-line. The amendment was welcomed, but huge numbers of users still complained that the '17 Protocol infringed their individual civil liberties.

The CNSA ensured that all registered avatars bore a user identity tag in cyberspace, and this went some way to assure webbers that they weren't being taken for a ride by fraudulent or perverted users. A simple who's-who? check on-line would confirm the registration details.

Obviously, the '17 Protocol required enforcement, and that was where Mack901 and his colleagues came in. Their job was to patrol the cyberstations and track down unregistered avatars, boot them off the 'net and prosecute the offenders. They weren't exactly policemen. After all, theft is virtually impossible in virtual reality, how can one steal property that doesn't exist?

Assault, too, was hard to prove. Indeed, by deactivating a websuit's sensitivity controls, users could play full combat simulation games without sustaining so much as a bruise. And as far as the CNSA were concerned, the stories about hackers overriding websuit sensitivity controls were simply rumours. After all, CyberSystems Inc. had proved in numerous tests that physical injury through websuit malfunction was virtually impossible.

When Mack901 re-entered the workroom after breakfast, it was with the sure and certain knowledge that nothing was impossible. Here he was, clad in a gel-pack latex websuit, about to disappear into cyberspace to meet a female named Red_Nails66 who probably lived 3000 miles away. In a matter of minutes, he could actually be touching her, across all those miles...

After logging in again and requesting to be sent to the Alphaworld homepage lobby, Mack called up towards the ceiling.

Server, location of Red_Nails66?

The computer spoke quietly, and only Mack could hear the response. Red_Nails66 is in Romance, Pick-up Bar Number 8. Do you require transport?

No, thanks. I'll walk.

With that, Mack began the curious stepping on the spot that propelled his avatar through the Alphaworld lobby and along the ground-floor corridor. It was good exercise, and he needed it. Back in the world he didn't get out much. Not many did.

There were mirrors set in the walls at regular intervals along the main corridor. Websuits were relatively expensive, and some users still had to adopt non-human avatars. The mirrors allowed such users to amuse themselves. Mack901 smiled when he saw his reflection. There, staring back at him, was a five-foot four-inch busty blonde female with the most alluring brown eyes he'd ever seen.

CNSA officers were permitted to adopt any avatar they might require in order to carry out their duties, and Mack had found this female form to be the most successful. As her, he could gain access to rooms where males were generally forbidden to enter, and with it he had booted and prosecuted a number of unregistered male voyeurs; they disguised themselves as women to hang out in the many lesbian meeting-rooms.

His ID tag, hovering above the blonde head like a surreal halo, clearly announced him as Mack901, CNSA, to any passing onlooker.

Next time I login I'll come in as a mirror! a male voice said, and Mack901 turned to look at the large floating goldfish that had spoken.

The fish visibly recoiled when it saw the CNSA ID tag.

Hello, fish! How's the weather where you are? Mack asked, the terminal modulating his voice into silky, feminine tones.

How should I know, Netcop? I haven't been out for weeks! and with that the fish glided off down the corridor.

Mack shrugged, and headed up the stairs to the Romance level. Netcops was the surprisingly unoriginal derogatory term that users applied to CNSA officers, and after three years of service it no longer offended.

It was early in the morning in London, but time had little relevance in cyberspace. The Romance lobby was crowded with hopeful users from all over the globe, and many a male head swung in Mack's direction as he walked in. Some even whistled at him. Mack smiled a greeting, and headed off in the direction of Pick-up Bar Number 8.

The Bars were accurate facsimiles of their real-world equivalents, though the drinks were free and users had to make-believe they were enjoying their martinis or beers. Rumour had it that taste and smell were next on the list of CyberSystems plug-in modules for the model 2100 websuit, but legal as well as technical problems had dogged such developments.

There were nine avatars in Bar 8, and Red_Nails66 was sitting with two males and a penguin at the far end. Interest in Mack was immediate, but flagged just as immediately when the CNSA ID tag was spotted.

Mack crossed to the table, and the penguin avatar backed away to make room for him.

Hi, Red. I'm Mack901. You reported some hassle?

Oh, ya. I didn't think you guys would be so quick. Red_Nails smiled nervously.

D'you want to go private, or are you happy to chat here? Mack asked.

Uhm, here's fine, I guess?

No problem. Your friends don't need to leave unless you want them to.

What's up, Red? Penguin asked, in a male voice.

Oh, I got stalked by some creep last night is all. It got a little kinda scary, so I called the Netcops. Red_nails66 looked up at Mack as if to apologise for the term. He shrugged it off, and pulled up a chair.

In the workroom, a gelpack plate automatically extended from the wall behind him, so that when he sat he wouldn't fall in the real world.

Mack901 surreptitiously scanned the ID tags hovering above the human avatars and waited for the Server to confirm their registry while Red_Nails talked.

I'm in the States, Washington, and I kinda like to hang out in here late, yeah?

Mack nodded for her to continue as The Server informed him that the register confirmed all scans clean.

So I'm here last night when a guy comes in and offers to buy me a drink? He's kinda cute so I say, sure, join the party. Only there was just a coupla people here, most had gone private.

What was his ID tag, d'you remember?

Sure. It said DJMover. He said he like ran a mobile disco thing out in the real world. Raves, that kind of thing.

What made you suspicious? Mack asked, flexing his fingers in CNSA code to send the false ID check to the Server.

Who goes out to raves these days? And he starts getting too cosy too fast, you know? Like he leans right over and says things like, do you wanna fuck with me or what?

Was he violent?

Nope. Well, he kinda grabbed my hand, but I like had the sensors tuned right down, I only go high when I'm like making it, you know?

Sure. Sensible thing to do.

But I could see he was like trying to pull me out the bar, you know? He starts saying, come on baby, I know you want it, why else you here?

He tried to pull you to a private room?

Uh-huh. Nearly did it, too, but I had the sensors on low, and held on to the bar.

Okay. But what makes you think he was unregistered?

He zapped me.

Mack901 felt a tickle of alarm. He what?

Red_Nails66 shrugged her shoulders, and leaned forward. He zapped me. Kinda. It was like in the old days when your system blipped and the room kinda flashed in and out?

Like a visor software reset, you mean? Mack asked, concerned.

Yeah! Only I felt it, girl! Like a tingle through my suit, like static?

Did it hurt? Cause any bruises or marks?

No! Get real! Just a strong tingle. I could like see his room though, briefly. Like he'd managed to zap me into his private room for a few seconds. I mean, I had enough time to look around before I yelled out to logoff.

What did the room look like?

Weird. Custom-made. It wasn't standard software, you know? I've been to every station on the 'net, I reckon, and I ain't seen nothin' like it! It was spiky, sharp, things kinda sticking out the walls. Spooky. I figured I'd been caught by a pervo hacker for sure.

Okay. So, no harm done, physically?

Nope.

How about you, though, Red? You don't seem too upset. Mack pressed.

Oh, I'm okay. It's just that I remember seeing all those weird spiky things in this guy's room, and I never got zapped before. I wanted to make sure I wasn't being stalked or anything, you know?

Mack901's female avatar smiled consolingly and reached out to take Red's hand. Sure, I understand. Don't worry, Red, I've done a complete server-scan, no-one's stalking you. Keep your sensors low and make sure you do an ID check before you go private with anyone, okay?

Sure. Hey, thanks for coming so quick. Guess I wasted your time, huh?

No. I'll check around. Mack looked at the other three avatars, none of which had spoken during the interview. These guys friends of yours, or have you just met?

Oh, I know these guys! They're okay!

Right. Well, I'll process your report, scan around. If anything turns up I'll let you know, okay?

Sure.

Mack901 smiled a good-bye and left the bar. Outside in the corridor he flexed his fingers in the CNSA communications code; his avatar expression froze, enabling him to talk directly to the Server in total privacy, whilst in cyberspace it looked as though 'she' was just lost in thought.

Yes, Mack901? The Server asked.

Addendum to report, Red_Nails66, complaint taken. Add physical violation code, add transcript of interview.

Data transmitted. Server replied.

Location, CyberSystems Inc Home Lobby.

Confirm. CyberSystems Inc Home Lobby?

Yes.

There was brief fading of the scenery around him, and then Mack found himself in a spacious room in front of a computer-animated female avatar.

Welcome to CyberSystems Incorporated. I am a bitmapped receptionist, not an avatar. How may I help you?

CNSA Officer Mack901. I'd like to speak to a web-tech, please, supervisory grade?

One moment, CNSA Officer Mack901.

After a slight pause a balding man of about forty appeared in the room, and held out a hand in greeting. Mack shook it politely.

Senior Tech Roger Hollis. How can I help, Officer?

Mr Hollis. I've just taken a report of a physical violation on the web, and I wanted to check it out with you. From the horse's mouth, so to speak?

A physical violation, huh? What kind?

The user described a tingling sensation during an attempted abduction. She said it was like static electricity?

Oh my. Well, you can rest assured it wasn't a websuit fault, officer. No way. They're double-insulated silicone-lined. Have to be for the gel-packs to function correctly.

I know. But as far as I'm concerned it's a genuine report. No reason for the user to lie.

There's always the possibility of malicious calls, officer...

Registered users don't make malicious calls, Mr Hollis. They'd get erased from the web, and that's too high a price to pay for a crank call. No. This isn't the first time I've heard of this kind of physical violation.

I can't help you, I'm afraid. The CNSA has a full spec on all our products. Unless the user was operating the websuit in a highly-charged play-room there's no way that the condition you described can occur. And even then, the suit's outer membrane is a carbon-impregnated conductor. Any charge would leak away to earth.

Mack901's big brown female eyes seemed to bore into the officious technician.

Are you running a scan on me, officer? Hollis spluttered, disconcerted by the frozen expression on the blonde's lovely face.

Thank you, Mr Hollis. Mack replied, and relocated to the Precinct, leaving the technician confused and flustered.

Mack was angry, and paced the floor in Room 7 while he waited for the duty sergeant. He didn't have to wait long.

Mack. What's this about a physical violation?

Sarge. You've read the transcript?

Sure. Soon as the Server flagged the violation code. You think this Red_Nails is a flake or what?

No. Nor were the other two last month.

What did CyberSystems say? Usual crap, I guess?

Correct. Physical violations in cyberspace are virtually impossible, blah blah blah! Come on, Sarge. What's the feeling upstairs? Surely the senior ranks aren't turning a blind eye to all this?

You know the official force policy, Mack. Websuits are safe for work, rest,...

...And play, yes, I know the policy. But the number of violation reports is rising. I don't believe it's anything to do with user-psychosis or websuit syndrome or whatever else you want to call it! Something's going on, and it's our job to find out what and put a stop to it.

"Hey, cool down, Mack. Jeeze, you Brits, always so tense, huh? You know that virtually every on-line officer feels the way you do. Hell, I may be