New York greeted the morning the way only it could: skyscrapers, like steel sentinels, caught the first crimson glimmers of the rising sun, their glass facades glowing with soft gold that promised a new day. Wisps of mist stretched lazily across the Hudson, pierced by beams of light that turned the water into liquid silver. The streets were already humming with early traffic and hurried footsteps, while high above Manhattan, drones hovered, delivering packages faster than taxis once did. Behind the city, the lights of the night slowly faded, yielding to a dawn that made New York even more magnificent a city of the future, still alive and loud, yet dressed in a sleek technological skin stretched over an ancient skeleton of ambition and dreams.
Alex woke to the quiet hum of drones outside the window and the crackling of the virtual radio, which stubbornly refused to find a clear signal. A dim lamp hung from the ceiling, barely lighting the room with its yellow glow, and on the chipped table, the home AI flickered Thomas, repeating its stuck greeting: "Good morning, Alex… good morning, Alex…" His apartment was tucked inside an old brick building that looked like it had survived more than one era: the facade cracked, walls covered in graffiti, partially hidden by flickering digital ad projections. Inside, the space was cramped and worn: a sagging couch with split seams, a small scarred table, and chairs that seemed borrowed from different lives. The only window, protected by metal bars and smart glass, looked out over the dawn spilling across the street, where delivery drones slid silently through the air and neon signs from cheap diners pulsed in the distance. The kitchen was like a capsule, with a battered kettle sharing space with a wall-mounted food dispenser that froze more often than it worked. In the corner, next to faded family photos and curling posters from another time, the cheap home AI flickered a tiny projector stuck on the same cheerful greeting. Despite the poverty, the apartment felt alive: the smell of synthetic coffee in the morning, the low hum of drones outside, the rasp of the virtual radio on the windowsill, and the breeze drifting in from the street, carrying the noise of the neighborhood where vendors shouted, children laughed, and electronic beats spilled from half-open bar doors.
Alex pulled on his worn gray sweatshirt with a hole in the sleeve, his faded joggers, and old slippers that had long lost their shape. He collapsed onto the couch, grabbed his phone, and opened the notifications.
"What the hell…?" he blurted when a message from his mobile bank appeared on the screen. His last paycheck. A tiny one. Enough for maybe a week, no more. He clenched the phone until his fingers turned white. "What the… yesterday they fired me, and today… this… Thanks a lot, damn it!" he shouted, as if someone were standing right there.
A deep sigh. His head in his hands. "How… how am I supposed to deal with this…?" he muttered, grinding his teeth. His heart was racing, and the hum of drones outside and the noise of the neighborhood only made the tension worse. "I need to figure something out… another job… at least for now… at least something to survive…"
The phone blinked again with another notification. Alex cursed, yanking his hand back, as if the device itself were to blame. "Okay, okay… first this… I'll handle this… then… then I'll figure out how to get out of this mess," he whispered to himself, clutching the phone like it held his last chance. Panic and anger twisted together inside him, his heart pounding faster, and for a moment it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to the size of this tiny apartment.
On his phone screen, Alex noticed a new message from his mother: "Hi, Alex! Can you call me when you have a minute?" His fingers trembled slightly, but he didn't rush to reply. His mind was still buzzing with anger and anxiety after the bank notification, and the thought of talking to his mother felt both comforting and heavy. He remembered how his parents had always supported him both emotionally and financially during his studies. His scholarship barely covered the cost of living as a typical student in America, especially in an expensive city like New York, and he often had to rely on their help. Guilt gnawed at him: he couldn't fully provide for himself, no matter how hard he tried. It had seemed that things were finally starting to stabilize a few months of work in the delivery service had brought some sense of security. But then he was fired and replaced by a delivery robot. That thought burned the most: all his efforts had been insufficient, and the future was hanging by a thread once again.
Alex hesitantly opened the contacts window in his messenger and tapped on his mother's name. His heart was pounding, his fingers trembling slightly. He took a deep breath and pressed the call button.
"Hi, Mom?" he said, trying to sound calmer than he actually felt.
"Good morning, sweetie!" came her warm, familiar voice. "It's already bright in New York, isn't it? How are you? What did you eat? How's work? And your girlfriend… what's her name… Ella…?"
Alex bit his lip. His mother had always been energetic and caring, and sometimes her questions felt like a tidal wave that was hard to stop. He felt both the warmth of her care and the weight of guilt for not being able to give her anything in return.
"Wait… wait, Mom," he interrupted, trying to take a pause and gather his thoughts. "One question at a time, okay?"
He smiled to himself, remembering how his mother always saw him as her little boy, even though he was long grown up. Her voice was an anchor that kept him from completely sinking into anxiety and panic about money and the future.
"Alright, sweetie," she agreed, a gentle smile in her voice. "Then tell me first how you're doing."
Alex took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Well… work is tough right now… I got fired yesterday… But I'm trying to figure things out…" His voice wavered, but he felt he could trust his mother. Inside, anger and fear were still boiling, but her attention gave him at least a small sense of relief.
"Oh, sweetie…" she said softly, and in her voice was the support that immediately eased some of the weight off his shoulders. "Everything will be fine. Your dad and I are always here for you."
Alex closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself take a deep breath. He knew he couldn't solve all his problems yet, but talking to his mother gave him a chance to stop thinking about them, if only for a little while.
"By the way", she continued, slightly changing the subject, "We've decided to extend our tour of Europe. Your father and I really like it here, even though he won't admit it. Нe's always grumbling about work and the clients waiting for him in Atlanta. And he even blocked his work phone so no one could bother him. You know him."
At that moment, she noticed someone in the room:
"Oh, here's your father. Ed, come over here. I'm talking to Alex. Go say hi to your son and put the bottle in the cabinet."
Alex smiled, listening to his mother's gentle tone and imagining his father awkwardly approaching the phone.
Alex heard his mother hand the phone to his father after a brief pause.
"Hey, Alex," came his father's voice. As always, firm and to the point. "Your mother said you're having trouble at work?"
Alex took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady:
"Yeah… I got fired yesterday. They replaced me with a robot."
"Hm," his father said shortly, his tone harsh, almost sharp, but care threaded through it. "That happens. Life doesn't wait for complaints."
"I know…" Alex replied, feeling both weight and relief. "It's just… I thought I was finally starting to get things together, and now it's all falling apart again."
"Listen, son," his father said firmly, but with a hint of warmth, "you can't lose your head. Setbacks happen, but you have to learn to get up and keep moving. Do what's necessary, even when you feel like giving up."
Alex nodded, even though his father couldn't see him:
"I'll try," he said quietly. "It's just… hard."
"I know," his father said, steady but not harshly to him. "Your mother and I are always here. You're not alone. But remember: no one is going to live your life for you. Act, think, find a way."
Alex felt a small warmth in his father's words, hidden behind the stern tone. He took a deep breath and, a little more confidently, said:
"Thanks, Dad. I'll try to handle it."
"That's good," his father said, handing the phone back to his mother. "Now go, talk to your mom. She wants to support you too."
"Alex, you remember our neighbors, the Browns, right?" his mother asked, her voice soft and curious.
Alex snorted lightly in acknowledgment, a small smile appearing on his lips.
"Well, recently their youngest kid messed something up in the backyard, and they took away his VR headset. That Carlin decided to sell it to the neighbors. A few days ago, she wrote to me, and I agreed to buy it — it's completely new, and she offered it to me for half the price. Good deal, right?"
She smiled faintly, looking at the phone screen, and continued, "Since we don't need it, I asked her to send it to your apartment. These days, young people prefer to work remotely, and I think it might help you with finding a new job."
Alex raised an eyebrow, a wider smile forming:
"A VR headset, huh? Well, that's unexpected… Thanks, Mom. Honestly, I didn't think I'd need it, but it sounds interesting."
He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the screen:
"Do you really think it could help me with work? I mean… I don't really see how VR could help with that."
His mother chuckled softly, her voice warm and confident:
"You'd be surprised, son. Nowadays, with technology like this, you can learn, practice, attend interviews, and connect with people from different cities. Give it a chance, and you'll see how useful it can be. I didn't work in advertising for nothing! I can even make the most ordinary gadget seem valuable."
Alex exhaled, feeling a mix of doubt and curiosity, and smiled:
"Mom, you could make something out of absolute junk…
"I didn't work in advertising for nothing,' huh?"
His mother laughed softly, and for the first time in a long while, Alex felt a small, warm spark of hope:
"Alright… I'll give it a try. At least it's something while I'm looking for a new job."
He smiled more broadly, feeling the anxiety ease slightly, and the thought of the future didn't seem quite so daunting anymore.
"Alex," she began softly, "the VR headset should arrive any minute now. So be ready."
Alex smiled, tilting his head slightly.
"Got it, Mom. Honestly, I don't know how skilled I'll be with it, but I'll try to make good use of it."
He let out a sigh, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement.
"I know, Mom… it's just hard to imagine how this could actually help me with work. I'm not even sure where to start."
They exchanged a few brief words of farewell, and Alex carefully hung up. He leaned back on the couch, trying to relax a little, gazing at the city rooftops outside his window. Suddenly, a sharp beeping sounded at his apartment door. Alex jumped — the signal was loud enough to clearly indicate that the delivery robot had arrived.
He stood up and walked over to the door.
Alex slowly opened the door and stopped, unable to immediately look away from the robot standing before him. Its humanoid figure had a sleek silver body, with smoothly contoured joints and a minimalist design, as if every detail had been created for precision and functionality. Its legs and arms moved fluidly, without the slightest tremor, and its multi-jointed hands could carefully hold objects of any shape. The robot's head was an elongated panel, with a soft blue glow instead of a face — no eyes, no mouth, no emotions, only cold, almost sterile visual information. Alex felt a mix of awe and slight unease — this was not just a machine, but the embodiment of the current era.
A steady, emotionless voice broke the silence of the apartment:"Identify yourself. Sender indicated as Carlin Brown. Complete the delivery procedure through the additional authentication terminal."
The robot smoothly turned its body and removed a compact scanner from its belt, which glowed softly with blue light. "Place your fingerprints for verification," it continued, extending the device toward Alex.
Alex stepped forward, his heart beating a little faster. He watched every movement of the robot, noticing how smoothly it held the device, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The metallic body reflected the light from the window, giving the impression that he was standing before a living, yet emotionless, being. Alex extended his hand, slightly trembling, and placed his finger on the scanner, feeling the gentle warmth from the sensor.
"Fingerprint verification…" the robot continued in the same even tone, "Identification initiated."
Alex tried not to focus on the coldness and mechanical nature of the voice, though a thousand thoughts swirled inside him: how could this technology actually help him with work, and would it all turn out to be too complicated and confusing?
Alex clenched his teeth, staring at the robot. Its movements were too precise, too "alive"—a reminder that machines like this had recently cost him his job. A mix of anger and hopelessness welled up in his chest: a man once valued for his skill and experience now rendered obsolete in front of this cold, merciless mechanism. At the same time, he couldn't help but notice its perfection—fluid motions, pinpoint accuracy, an almost flawless design—which provoked an irritating and conflicting sense of admiration.
The robot smoothly turned its back, and a large delivery compartment on its body opened. The locks clicked silently, and the mechanical voice intoned:
— Identification confirmed. Access to the compartment is granted. You may retrieve the package.
Alex stepped forward, clenching his fists and feeling the weight of his own powerlessness. Every movement of the robot was perfection, something he no longer had access to. With a bitter sigh, he lifted the package from the compartment, feeling the cold metal in his hands, and froze, watching the robot automatically close the hatch behind him.
— Compartment closed and secured. Delivery procedure completed, — the robot continued in its even, emotionless voice.
Alex remained standing, clutching the package, with a dull sense of his own uselessness. Yet deep in his irritated mind, a strange respect for this cold perfection flickered, a reminder that humanity, however it may be, was no longer always the most important thing in the world.
The robot added:
— Delivery completed by NeoLogix Couriers.
But Alex no longer listened to its words. All his attention was fixed on the container holding the VR headset.
With slow, deliberate movements, he turned the handle, feeling the slight resistance of the lock as it disengaged. The door clicked quietly, closing off the robot's cold presence behind him. Alex leaned against the door for a moment, exhaling deeply. The weight of the package in his hands grounded him, a small anchor in the pit of his chest, leaving him exhausted and irritated. Then, almost reluctantly, he turned and made his way back to the bed.
Opening the container, he found the headset itself and its charging device. The VR headset looked modern and minimalist: a smooth matte body with flowing lines, an almost organic silhouette, and thin blue indicators on the forehead panel. Alex had already seen this model — a new product from VirtuLife, the latest version, released just a couple of weeks ago. Their advertising slogan read: "Be the first to live two lives." The new full-immersion technology had made them market leaders, although, as he had gathered from reading online articles, its features and capabilities were still limited.
Alex carefully took the cable from the container and connected it to the port on the back of the headset. The plastic clicked softly as the connector snapped into place, and the first blue indicators flickered on the headset, signaling the start of charging. He watched as the faint glow spread along the lines of the casing, as if the headset were coming to life in his hands.
"Thomas", — Alex said in a steady voice, — "connect the headset to the internet."
Immediately, a soft, soothing voice responded:
"Connection initiated. Scanning network… Connection established. Headset ready for synchronization and software updates."
Alex clenched his fists around the headset and, almost involuntarily, felt a slight tremor in his fingers. All of it — sleek technology, perfect construction, new worlds accessible at the press of a button — seemed at once thrilling and unnerving. He placed the headset on the bed to ensure it was charging properly and lingered for a moment on the cold blue lights reflecting off the matte black body.
Although the headset was new and gleamed with technological perfection, Alex's mind still churned with thoughts that he would probably not find work quickly. After a moment's thought, he lay back on the bed and put on the headset. Alex drew a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him, and slowly sank onto the bed. Placing the package beside him, he removed his shoes and, as if trying to free himself from the burden of reality, donned the VR headset. A light press of the buttons on the headset's body was accompanied by a soft click, and the blue indicators flared brighter, as if responding to his touch.
"Begin system login," — he whispered, and the interface responded immediately.
Moments later, Alex felt a slight tingling on his scalp, followed by an unusual sense of space expanding. The room, walls, and ceiling dissolved, giving way to a soft light and semi-transparent interface panels. Before his eyes appeared a virtual welcome room — minimalist, almost sterile, with blue and silver hues harmonizing with the headset's color scheme.
"Hello, Alex, — said the familiar voice of the system, Thomas, now seeming closer, more "alive." — VR user session initiated. Connection to the network and cloud storage complete.
Alex felt a strange mix of anxiety and relief. Everything was so perfect, so carefully designed: the interface responded to his gaze, hand movements in the air were instantly mirrored in the virtual environment, and the headset's sensors tracked even the slightest changes in head position.
He raised his hands and saw virtual panels in front of him, filled with various applications: access to information resources, virtual workspaces, games, and simulators. Even knowing it was only an imitation, Alex felt an almost physical pull toward these possibilities.
"Thomas", — he muttered, — "open news and job market updates."
Neat charts, articles, and analytical reviews floated before his eyes. But the longer he stared at the numbers and forecasts, the stronger the mix of irritation and hopelessness grew inside him: the world was moving too fast, and he was left behind on the sidelines.
After a few hours, the virtual space had already started to feel exhaustingly familiar to Alex. The bluish glow of the interface pressed on his eyes, while neat panels with job listings flickered one after another like a mockery.
"Damn all of you…" he exhaled irritably, swiping away yet another list of offers with force. The job market board vanished in a cloud of pixel dust, but it brought no relief.
Nothing. Not a single decent position. Either they required skills he had never possessed, or everything was already closed, filled, "position unavailable." Those words flashed before his eyes like a cruel joke.
Alex felt a wave of helpless anger rising. He returned to the main screen, but even there everything seemed hostile: bright icons of new worlds, invitations to "start your journey," "create your own business," "be whoever you want." He smirked bitterly and harshly.
"Be whoever I want… If only it were that simple," he muttered, clenching his fists.
He closed his eyes, trying to disconnect, but the words from the latest news still floated in his mind: "The job market continues to shrink… Positions are being automated… Robotization is pushing humans out."
Somewhere deep in his chest, a feeling pierced through something like hopelessness. Even though the headset promised him "two lives," Alex increasingly felt that his real life was slipping through his fingers. Here, in the perfect digital world, everything was smooth and logical. Beyond its borders emptiness, uncertainty, and closed doors. He was about to log out when suddenly a new notification appeared in the corner of his vision.
A message popped up on the screen:
"Good afternoon! This is ArcanePulse. We're excited to announce that thanks to our collaboration with VirtuLife, we've developed a revolutionary game Smoke & Sorcery. Since the game is based on full-immersion technology, it's available exclusively to owners of this VR headset. Your second life begins very soon. The game launches in 58 minutes."