MetaCraft Cybernetics (4)
As I stepped into the second research building of MetaCraft Cybernetics, a chill seeped into the air. The dark interior was lit only by orange emergency guide lights, but the flood of beams from the squad members' shoulder lamps kept our visibility clear. Thick black shadows stretched from drums marked with biohazard symbols, forklifts, pallets stacked high with boxes.
I was skimming the data we'd secured from the second-floor computer hall moments ago. Thanks to it, I'd learned about two technologies under development here. The first was a VR training system. It let soldiers repeat real-combat experiences without the costs, injuries, or deaths that came with actual training. What proposal could excite generals more? That's exactly what they were researching here.
VR training itself was already a reality abroad, but few nations had it, and they guarded it fiercely, forcing self-development. Plus, what they were working on here was a step further: VR with full sensory implementation. The awkward part? Its core tech had been developed for VR pornography.
The VR simulation they're researching here isn't just infantry combat—it's a comprehensive training program that includes operating all kinds of equipment too.
"There are a lot of hurdles to clear, but the development logs look smooth. If research had continued normally, they could've commercialized it within five years. They might've mass-produced experienced elite soldiers."
"Making elite soldiers with VR? That's like mass-producing cyclists by perfecting training wheels."
Elite soldiers were forged in real combat or combat-like reality, not video games.
Typical reaction from a veteran soldier encountering new tech, huh?
"This isn't just stubborn bullshit or distrust of new tech. The problem is the side effects when you're trying to make people whose endgame is the battlefield."
Modern tech can simulate incredibly realistic experiences now. With sensory stimulation systems, they can even replicate crisis awareness and survival instincts that VR often ignores. You can't tell it from reality.
Was she a VR training advocate? Cyberspace was like her homeland in a way. My words might sound like I was badmouthing the place she'd lived her whole life.
"No matter how real it feels, VR isn't reality. When you fuck up big in VR, you don't get injured or die—you just lose points. That's the problem."
I'd seen those side effects manifest on the battlefield.
"One of my squadmates finished a year of VR training in the States. He'd cleared 120 combat scenarios based on domestic ops like the Korean War, armed communist infiltrations, and Aden Dawn, plus foreign real-world battles."
He strutted around like a legendary war hero starting a second life.
"Top of the leaderboards every time, full of energy and drive. He dove into courses that even the boldest hesitated on."
Sounds good, right?
"The problem was treating it all like a training sim. He saw his actions as part of a game."
He never admitted it, no matter how many times squadmates pointed it out.
"Charging into battle like it's a game, brimming with confidence but deluded into thinking he's serious. Exactly the ideal mindset the brass hoped VR would instill."
Did he die?
Artemis, who'd been listening silently, finally spoke. She must've recalled the general's son I'd mentioned before.
"Yeah. Horribly."
I still remembered it vividly.
"Right up to deployment, he was cocky and fearless. Then two machine-gun rounds shredded his gut like a rag, spilling his intestines everywhere. A squadmate tried shoving them back in with shaking hands, but they were torn to shreds too."
On the helo ride, the sandwich he'd scarfed while cracking dumb jokes oozed out between his guts.
"Right before he died, our eyes met. Know what emotion was in them? One word: 'Huh?'"
Huh? Or Huh? This isn't right?
"When the pain, cold, and terror of death hit, he finally grasped cold reality. VR just mass-produces fake heroes numb to it all."
I remembered him reaching a fading finger toward empty air as he died. Searching for a reset button? Hallucinating? No way to know. Didn't want to.
The second tech was beyond imagination. Tentatively named the "Neural Response Amplifier." The original VR aimed to transplant users' senses—and even their minds—into virtual space. But something intriguing happened: test subjects counting slowly to ten in VR experienced only three seconds in reality.
Researchers first saw it as a glitch hindering VR access. Then they wondered: what if we controlled it in reality? Boost neural response speed, keep cognition and motor skills high, make real time feel slow. Bullet time from games and movies, made real.
Huge potential for sports, medicine—especially military. But the emails between researchers suggested the process wasn't exactly ethical.
About two hours later, a reply log.
"Hmph."
Twenty years ago, this would've been unthinkable in Korea. But right before the infection outbreak? Not surprising. Worse happened. At least they used illegals before their own prisoners—a small mercy.
What happened to those prisoners was obvious. Lab H1-1 was full of skeletons. Bones in orange prison jumpsuits, strapped to white experiment tables, dead. Cables jutted from their neck vertebrae to machines below—VR access gear, probably.
They didn't die from experiment failure. Every skull had a bullet hole.
The full story came from a PDA in the corner. Next to it, a soldier slumped against the wall, gun barrel in mouth, top of skull blown off.
I played the PDA.
Lab H1-2, marked similarly, had bodies with headshots too. The real issue was H1-3. Empty experiment tables and shredded soldier remains were all that lingered.