The countdown to his fate on the Deputy Station Director's log kept shrinking with every turn of the page, as though the years and time itself were being worn away bit by bit in the process.
People always said that time was invisible, but with every turn of the page, it seemed to unfold right before his eyes.
Time passed too quickly—so quickly that by the time people reacted, a long while had already gone by.
The quiet streets no longer echoed with the noisy voices of the past, and the idle people no longer gathered on street corners, trying to find some way to make money.
The lower-class Middle Class communities in particular were so quiet they seemed uninhabited.
But in reality, they were packed with people.
The changes over the past year had been immense. Society had become considerably more "negative" after the emergence of the "New World," and most people had gone to the "New World."
In the Virtual World, they could obtain anything they wanted. Identity and status were no longer shackles binding them.
Some became bandits, some established gangs, and some farmed in the Virtual World—
Yes, you heard that right. They farmed in the Virtual World, and the returns were quite good.
Crops in the Virtual World generally ripened once every three months. In some tropical regions, crops could mature at least three times a year, and the profits they brought in were far higher than what people could earn working in factories.
Everyone could obtain the life they wanted in the Virtual World. Some became outstanding warriors, while others became rangers.
Some escaped the restrictions of the factories and became famous traveling bards.
Some sang their hearts out in the cities, while others danced gracefully onstage. People no longer simply divided humanity into