Adam’s Mom returns to Second Life
By Adam Reuters
The following was passed to me from Second Life resident Ines Phillip (real life name: Patricia Pasick), who also happens to be my mom:
In First Life when I return home I find everything where I left it hours ago, even weeks ago if I’m on a trip. The dirty coffee cup in the sink, still there. Also undone laundry and unpaid bills.A few days ago in Second Life, I returned to my virtual home after a long absence (there was a problem signing on after my credit card expired). SL has become a place to chat with my son, and a fun diversion from a tedious day.
My SL home was still there: view of the water, newly-purchased helicopter on roof. But what the hell was that object stuck into the wall?
A large, grey cylinder projected into the house. I right-clicked to Take it, then checked my inventory. It was listed as a bomb. A Bomb? A BOMB?! Was my helicopter a threat or an annoyance to some vengeful neighbor? Was this Linden’s punishment for an expired credit card? I deleted the icon quickly, fearing an explosion.
To soothe my rattled nerves, I felt like teleporting to someplace familiar and safe. NBC ’s virtual Rainbow Room high above Rockefeller Center would be a good retreat, I thought. I could sit at a white-clothed table and breathe easy, or go skating on the ice rink.
Bad, bad choice. I found myself, not at the charming spot where my son and I once practiced somersaults on skates, but amid some very ominous characters in capes and masks.
In seconds, I was set ablaze with orange and yellow flames. Avatars stood around casually, watching me being charred to a crisp. “What’s going on here?” I typed, feeling a little warm. “Goodbye, Ines,” someone typed back.
I glanced at the top line of my screen. Apparently NBC had rented space on what has since become Marijuana Island: Not a welcome place for avatars like me wearing a business suit.
Maybe they thought I was a narc.
