A fantasy, by Juan José Millás

Mark Zuckerberg aims to create a virtual reality that is analogThat’s what the Metaverse seems to us to be about: in other words, squaring the circle. It is understood. I’d rather be made of bits, but I’m made of atoms. My liver, my lungs, my urethra, all of me, in short, I am an atomic whole, often on the verge of exploding. Atoms will kill me; in fact, they kill me every day. My migraines are analog, the same as my toothaches or my existential anguish. I dedicate the day to caring for this body of flesh and blood, blood and skin, glands and viscera. I feed him three times a day (five times), I dress him, I take him out for a walk, I give him enriching readings, I take him to the movies, and I put him to bed and tuck him in every night wishing him happy dreams, because tomorrow a Monday awaits him. agitated. I have, instead, a virtual me that doesn’t give me any job. He lives his life without physical or mental problems and when I visit him on Facebook I only receive good news from him. If possible, I would trade his life for mine.

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That is what the Metaverse is about, it seems to me, of passing with weapons and baggage to the other side of the mirror. If it were possible, we would all be there for a long time. We would have abandoned our real bathrooms, our real kitchens, our messy bedrooms. In the Metaverse you don’t have to clean mold from shower tiles, grease from your kitchen, or lint from under your bed. It does not smell like cabbage or fried or vanilla deodorant. I guess in that world that is beyond and that is the reverse of thisYou can be a firefighter without taking oppositions and put out fires without burning yourself. Maybe you can even write without writing. The latter, to be written, is one of my dreams. At the moment, I have barely managed to be spoken: I open my mouth and ideas that do not belong to me come out of it. I am a kind of repeater station of what I hear on radio and TV talk shows, in the editorials of the press & mldr;

In the Metaverse, I would write the novels at the dictation of another or others, but I would collect the copyright. What Zuckerberg sells us is a fantasy, a unreachable showcase, a square circle. The strange thing is that there is a line to buy it.

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A fantasy, by Juan José Millás