Cyber Martial Arts
In the tranquil Room of the hospital, Clarke Higilton sat, his mind wandering far beyond the aromatic steam of his freshly brewed tea. His thoughts were lost in a future where society was starkly divided, a concept he had stumbled upon online.
This era had crystallized into five formal professions: scientists, thinkers, artists, businessmen, and politicians. Businessmen formed about 20% of humanity, artists a slightly higher 25%. Thinkers and scientists together made up a mere 4%, with politicians being less than 1%.
The other half of the population belonged to 'gray professions' like hackers, mercenaries, and gang members. Notably, artists encompassed a diverse group including craftsmen, painters, calligraphers, composers, designers, and singers. In this world, handcrafted items, though less precise than AI-produced goods, were treasured for their spirit, especially by the affluent. These masterpieces could fetch millions of crypto-dollars.
AI products, in contrast, were frowned upon by the elite, seen as soulless and tasteless.
This shift in values had led to a cultural renaissance, with long-forgotten heritages thriving anew.
Business circles included powerful families like the Hamiltons and the Akios, but most were mere employees or small-scale entrepreneurs. Their social status was fixed, with only a few breaking into the echelons of wealth.
The thinkers, scientists, and politicians were a rare breed.
Most people fell into the gray category, often jobless and living in slums or city outskirts. Almost half the world's population was unemployed, an outcome of an AI-dominated labor force and the safety net of controlled nuclear fusion.
Society had thus split into two distinct classes: citizens and civilians. Citizens enjoyed rights like voting, doing business, and could become politicians or businessmen. Civilians lacked these privileges but could aspire to be thinkers, artists, or scientists, offering a glimmer of social mobility.
As Clarke mulled over these divisions, Claire Larsson approached, her expression thoughtful. "Thinking about the social structure again, Clarke?" she asked, sliding into the seat opposite him.
Clarke nodded, his eyes reflecting the complexity of their world. "It's fascinating and disconcerting how we've evolved, Claire. The divide is more than just economic, it's about identity, purpose."
Claire sighed, swirling her tea. "And yet, here we are, trying to make sense of it all. Sometimes I wonder if we're just pawns in a larger game, played by those at the top."
The teahouse around them buzzed with soft conversations, the clink of cups, a peaceful haven amidst a world of turmoil. Clarke glanced around, the diverse crowd a microcosm of society. "Perhaps," he conceded, "but I like to think we can still make a difference. Maybe not on a grand scale, but in small ways, in our own lives and those around us."
Their conversation continued, a tapestry of ideas and reflections weaving through the scented air of the room, two minds seeking understanding in a world that seemed to offer none.
In Credence Province, citizens enjoyed numerous social benefits, a stark contrast to the life of civilians. Clarke Higilton pondered this as he sat across from the Larsson family in a modest but cozy room, the aroma of freshly brewed tea mingling with the subtle buzz of conversation around them.
Welfare housing, for example, afforded citizens modest yet comfortable living spaces - small flats of about 50 square meters, typically with a bedroom and a bathroom. Utilities like water, electricity, and internet were complimentary, symbolizing the government's commitment to its citizens.
Additionally, there was the childcare allowance. Citizens received 1,000 crypto-dollars monthly per child, alongside free compulsory education for twelve years, a policy designed to ease the burden of parenthood. This support continued until the child reached adulthood at twenty, automatically bestowing them with citizenship.
For civilians, the path to citizenship was narrow, limited to either employment in a government or corporate role or notable contributions in fields like science, art, or thought.
Despite these benefits, the birth rate among lower-class citizens and civilians remained worryingly low, giving rise to the saying, "Children and grandchildren will have their own blessings, but I will enjoy the blessings without children and grandchildren."
Clarke, having reviewed this social backdrop in his mind, turned his attention to the Larsson. "I'm Clarke Higilton, from the Higilton family of Cybernetic Network Technology. May I have the pleasure of knowing your names?"
The middle-aged man, Lanerd, perked up with a mix of respect and humility. "It's an honor, Mr. Higilton. I'm Lenard, this is my son Jack a Cyber Samurai, and my daughter, the tea expert, Claire."
"Samurai?" Clarke asked, intrigued, glancing at Jack, who had a rugged, cyber-warrior aura.
"It's cyber martial arts," Lanerd Larsson clarified. "Jack is a cyber warrior, trained and certified at a sergeant level."
Clarke nodded, admitting his limited knowledge of martial arts.
Lanerd, with a self-deprecating smile, suggested, "Perhaps Jack can explain it better to Mr. Higilton."
Jack, urged by his father, explained reluctantly, "Cyber martial arts involve using prosthetic bodies and integrating traditional martial arts to develop unique fighting techniques."
Jack added, "Martial arts gyms have tactical AIs that customize techniques based on the user's and prosthetic body's data."
Clarke expressed his amazement at this fusion of tradition and technology. "So, what does the sergeant level signify in this context?"
"It's a ranking system for cyber warriors," Jack replied, a hint of impatience in his voice. "It starts from soldier level, up to general. My rank might seem modest, but it's quite an achievement."
Clarke acknowledged this with a smile, then steered the conversation towards his primary interest. "Mr. Lanerd, I'm particularly keen to learn about your father's life. Could we discuss that?"
"Absolutely, I'd be honored to share," Lanerd replied, a hint of melancholy crossing his features. Despite Clarke Higilton's inquiry feeling slightly intrusive, Lanerd composed himself, eager to please. "It's actually a straightforward story. My father was what they called an 'unnatural person.'"
As he spoke, Clarke's thoughts gravitated towards the term 'unnatural person,' a concept he was familiar with from his online research. The Federation of Terra had introduced the "Unnatural Human Reproduction Act" about 150 years ago, addressing a global decline in fertility rates. The government would acquire high-quality genetic materials, using 'life incubators' to simulate gestation and birth artificially. These beings were termed 'unnatural persons,' who were provided compulsory education and upbringing until adulthood at 20, after which they could pursue further education or enter society, gaining citizenship rights in the process.
This bill, despite facing fierce opposition from various civil and human rights groups, had eventually been enacted.
"My father was different from other 'unnatural persons.' He chose to further his education into adulthood, becoming a doctor at thirty and earning his citizenship," Lanerd continued, his voice tinged with pride.
Clarke's interest piqued, recalling the 'Unnatural Human Reproduction Act.' "His journey must have been quite remarkable."
Lanerd nodded. "Indeed. As his reputation grew, companies began investing in his research, especially in his favorite field, virtual reality technology."
"Virtual reality?" Clarke echoed, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, it might sound unfamiliar, but it's quite simple. Unlike games on optical brains or holographic projections, it connects your senses to a device, transmitting simulated experiences. As a child, I was fortunate to try a prototype my father designed. It was like living a dream, experiencing a life like never before..."
Clarke frowned slightly at this revelation. 'Isn't this just VR?' he thought. He was puzzled that in this technologically advanced world, virtual reality was still in its infancy, whereas in his previous world, technologies like AR, VR, and MR were already mainstream. Clarke knew well that whoever dominated virtual reality technology could potentially control the future of humanity, given its vast applications beyond gaming, like immersive learning or medical training.
He mused over the possibilities, from digital consciousness to even achieving a form of immortality in the virtual realm. The future of humanity seemed to hinge on a choice between virtual reality and the exploration of the stars.
'Then why,' Clarke wondered, 'have the tech giants of this world neglected such a monumental opportunity? Could there be an underlying secret?'
Lost in these thoughts, Clarke momentarily drifted away from Lamton's story about his father, pondering the enigmatic trajectory of virtual reality in this world and its untapped potential.