I’m already tired of hearing the word “metaverse.” My wife and friends turn to me, the resident Prophet-Nerd, whenever news reports from various talking heads on TV mention and re-mention “metaverse” every evening on a seemingly neverending loop. Most people believe the metaverse is nothing more than a cleverly disguised re-branding of Facebook (as Meta) in the wake of recent privacy snafus, disinformation sharing, and whistleblower come-forth-ings to appease shareholders and change the narrative. Others, like me, see a cascade event brought on by a global pandemic: Facebook, along with Apple, Google, and Microsoft, injecting critical-mass-level investment dollars into the second act of the internet as foretold by the Wachowskis in my favorite movie The Matrix.

I believe that the past 25 years of my 50-year-old, technology-laced life have only been an incubator for a silicon chrysalis designed to blur the lines between virtual, augmented, and real-reality. I’ve been anxiously waiting for this breaking point, like the priest Vito Cornelius in The Fifth Element, with my two sons Caleb (age 21) and Evan (15) listening to my predictions from my virtual lectern. They know, like I have, that the metaverse has been here for a while. Always up for the next big thing, we’ve been living in and exploring it for the past three years, with each of us having distinctly different experiences.

Horizon Venues

In his critically acclaimed 1992 metaverse novel Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson wrote, "Software development, like professional sports, has a way of making thirty-year-old men feel decrepit." So for example, I wonder how he would have felt observing me in the virtual lobby of Facebook’s Horizon Venues, a meeting place for users looking to attend live events together. I wanted to attend the virtual Billie Eilish concert, and I found myself just yards from the virtual front door and part of a group of young men discussing the fledgling metaverse of recent Zuckerberg fame.

As I approached, "EagleClaw001" turned and pointed to the username above my head ("MLydick"). He took an adolescent dig at the familiar and hurtful permutations of it, transporting me immediately back to high school in my mind. The others laughed and pointed, poking fun at the virtual placard above me. This wasn’t what I had been expecting. Not at all.

They were engrossed in a closed conversation about Meta and discussing why we didn’t have virtual legs. We were all torsos hovering over circles, animated from the waist up. We could move our arms and tilt and turn our heads, and our lips moved when we were talking. The voice quality was in ultra-high definition, and it sounded as though they were standing next to me in real life.

I wished I had chosen a cooler profile name like "Optimus." I recoiled at their snickers and wondered if it wasn't too late to change it. I made a note to Google how as soon as I left.

They were new here, like me. Avatar "Jordan" explained he had just visited a much higher resolution version of a new world somewhere that sounded awesome. The young men fist-bumped each other in agreement, and as their knuckles touched, powerful color-filled virtual circles flew out from their fists. When they high-fived, a bouquet of yellow thumbs-up hands flew upwards into the air.

I left the group, feeling disappointed about my first metaverse experience. Determined to make a friend in here, I moved over to the next individual who was standing alone.

His name was Jules, and he had a purple jacket with a stylish pocket handkerchief. I introduced myself and asked him if he could hear me, and I smiled in both worlds as he affirmed that he could with a head shake and a “hello!” He extended his hand out to fist-bump me (yes!). I asked him how long he had been coming here, as he explained he had been here on and off the last few weeks…another newbie. A few other guys joined us and introduced themselves. They were from Detroit and New York, respectively, and Jules instantly steered the conversation toward the legality of weed in each of our states. I stood and cocked my virtual head to the side as if to appear interested.