CDSA

When one creates a virtual environment of any kind, not least of which the looming metaverse, one also inevitably recreates the world’s problems along with it. In 2016, we witnessed Tay enter the fray. Microsoft’s artificial intelligence chatbot joined Twitter. It trolled.

The project was discontinued only 16 hours later.

Inequalities are likewise unintentionally launched upon our new horizons. The intent of course is that people can choose who they wish to be — a commendable ideal, but one which is often rooted — ironically — in a fantasy utopia. Without global access to the very technology and communications networks on which the metaverse is to be based, we immediately disqualify a significant amount of the global populace from it to the detriment of all.

First then, we must examine practical questions. What is the metaverse?

Does the metaverse simply envision a world of worlds? Much as computer networks became the internet — an interconnected network of networks — will the metaverse spawn an Interneta-metaverse; an interconnected network of networked worlds of worlds? Who then, will patrol its gateways? What are the protocols and etiquette? Who enforces the rights of our digital denizens? What rights do they have; what rights should they have?

No matter how much legal attention is put to policies, terms, and conditions, you can’t design culture. It will evolve. OnlyFans encouraged its creators to produce unique and desirable content. Paying subscribers soon steered the nature of that content down an arguably predictable path.

Money talks. People listen.

Perhaps, as the COVID-spooked, climate-forsaking human race moves ever virtual, we will require less of such resources? Unlikely. In fact, we’ll doubtless be questing for more online currency and greater electronic liquidity.

Next, we may turn our attentions to the very recent phenomenon of technological existentialism. What is the metaverse supposed to achieve? What is it all for?

Social media promised greater communication between people across the world.

It over-achieved. It also connected criminals. It helped socialise violent extremism, introducing misanthropic ideologues to newfound audiences based on the principle of shared interests. Conspiracy theorists doubled down, unconsciously designing for their own communities the very totalitarian echo-chambers their creed habitually purports to forewarn.

So then, is this the fault of the technologists, or the persons misusing the systems? There are convincing arguments in either direction.

One thing is certain: “… a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest” – Captain Jack Sparrow. Honestly.  And organised criminal enterprise consistently remains one of the best platforms for such corrupt innovation. They know what the metaverse is for. It’s for money laundering. It’s for counterfeiting and digital piracy. It’s for identity theft. It’s for gleefully and profitably navigating the pervasive haze that exists around a host’s ability to not only detect wrongdoing, but to then prevent it reliably and unilaterally.

It’s important to stress these activities remain uncommon. Most avatars are operated by law-abiding fun-seekers of various ages, who want to use technology to communicate with their friends — and make new ones — whilst expressing themselves via platform-specific emotes, or, in the case of some online games, regularly launching explosive rockets at each other’s faces with frenetic fervour. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.

There is though, a question of branding. What brand of virtual rocket to launch? Gucci combustibles, or Armani ordnance? What immaterial haute couture shall be woven on the binary loom? Well, if you don’t make it, someone else will. If the existing worlds of online gaming are anything to go by, then fandoms can quickly escalate into illicit ventures.

If you are a brand owner, a content producer, a rights holder, and you’re not participating in the metaverse then you can be sure someone will fill that gap in the market for you – and in short order.

As I write this article, I make a brief digression via my web browser.

I direct it to Linden Lab’s Second Life marketplace. Released in 2003, Second Life remains an active virtual community. A metaverse. I am greeted immediately by a list of “what customers are buying now”, which mostly consists of simulated designer lingerie. I attract concerning glances from my colleagues.

The destination guide then invites me to take a trip to a drive-in cinema, to visit the “Bayjou Theater” – promising 12 hours of movies with no repeats – or to attend the multimedia arts centre for jazz dances, DJ nights, and live music.

You see, the metaverses already exist, and they are full of creative people. Creative people who can potentially make a lot of real-world money from their creations.

And where there is real-world money, there is crime.

The solution in theory is simple, and already foretold in film. We take the blue pill and remain blissful in our ignorance. But that’s not the way the story turns. We’ll take the red pill. We’ll stay in Wonderland and see how deep the rabbit hole goes.

By Matthew Lane, CEO, Co-Founder, X Cyber Group

Matthew Lane is the CEO and co-founder of X Cyber Group (XCyber), having previously spent over a decade advising UK and foreign government entities on their covert cyber requirements. An analyst by trade and mindset, Matt has pioneered many innovative investigative techniques over the years and has found solutions to a wide variety of complex, enduring, intractable, and typically multi-jurisdictional digital issues faced by individuals and businesses alike. XCyber provide specialist data that helps their clients make the Internet safer. They collect and organize digital artefacts associated with digital risks. ([email protected])