Congratulations! You just won the National Lottery - and your prize is to spend a day with Palmer Luckey, the only boy in the entire fiefdom to be the head of his very own virtual reality company!
Oculus VR is the company that's going to bring virtual reality to the masses, which makes Palmer the "luckey-iest" boy in the land!
Quickly now - it's time to leave for your day with Palmer! Don't forget to pack some organic quinoa bites!
Oculus VR is the company that's going to bring virtual reality to the masses, which makes Palmer the "luckey-iest" boy in the land!
Quickly now - it's time to leave for your day with Palmer! Don't forget to pack some organic quinoa bites!
You arrive at the Oculus HQ in Seattle, travelling in a small, brown, plane.
The brown aircraft touches down on the street outside the front doors of the building. You step out, and the pilot waves you adieu.
"Don't forget," he shouts over the noise of the brown engines, "Seattle rhymes with 'Beatle'".
Bearing this in mind, you head towards the building.
The brown aircraft touches down on the street outside the front doors of the building. You step out, and the pilot waves you adieu.
"Don't forget," he shouts over the noise of the brown engines, "Seattle rhymes with 'Beatle'".
Bearing this in mind, you head towards the building.
You enter through the main doors of Oculus HQ, and Palmer Luckey is sat on the stairs, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes, and huffs as he sees you.
"Finally!" he sighs. "I've been waiting ages. You must be the winner of the National Lottery."
You nod, by way of confirmation.
"Then I bid you greetings, winner" chirrups the cherub-faced billionaireboy, abruptly. "I'm Palmer Luckey, the boy-king of VR; the Luckey-iest boy alive!"
Palmer extends his hand, and you reach out to shake it. But as you do, he whips it away and runs it over his face and neck, while making a whoop-whoop-whooping sound.
"Psyche!" he laughs. "Now c'mon - let me show you around my crib."
"Finally!" he sighs. "I've been waiting ages. You must be the winner of the National Lottery."
You nod, by way of confirmation.
"Then I bid you greetings, winner" chirrups the cherub-faced billionaireboy, abruptly. "I'm Palmer Luckey, the boy-king of VR; the Luckey-iest boy alive!"
Palmer extends his hand, and you reach out to shake it. But as you do, he whips it away and runs it over his face and neck, while making a whoop-whoop-whooping sound.
"Psyche!" he laughs. "Now c'mon - let me show you around my crib."
You head up the stairs, and along a corridor, following the skipping Palmer, who occasionally stops to swing on overhead beams.
"Check this out," laughs Palmer, pointing at a sign with his fingers.
"This is the sign for my company. It's called Oculus VR Inc. It produces magic binoculars which make amazing things look as if they are real. Even dragons, and Facebook friendships. Retail price only $600."
Palmer raises a leg and breaks wind.
"Better out than in," he says, gravely, as blood tickles down his leg.
"Check this out," laughs Palmer, pointing at a sign with his fingers.
"This is the sign for my company. It's called Oculus VR Inc. It produces magic binoculars which make amazing things look as if they are real. Even dragons, and Facebook friendships. Retail price only $600."
Palmer raises a leg and breaks wind.
"Better out than in," he says, gravely, as blood tickles down his leg.
Then Palmer's face goes scarlet, and he presses his chin against his chest, straining.
"Palmer need toilet," he groans, stamping his foot, and shaking his head.
"Palmer need toilet now! Will you come with me? I don't like it in there. I once had a nightmare where I froze to death on the lavatory and was eaten by a she-wolf. I'm somewhat scared it'll come true."
"Palmer need toilet," he groans, stamping his foot, and shaking his head.
"Palmer need toilet now! Will you come with me? I don't like it in there. I once had a nightmare where I froze to death on the lavatory and was eaten by a she-wolf. I'm somewhat scared it'll come true."
Reluctantly, you lead Palmer to the nearest restroom, and stand guard as he disappears inside a cubicle.
"Thank you," grunts Palmer from behind the door. "Thank you, so much."
You wait outside the cubicle, shuffling your feet, as Palmer beings to hum what appears to be the main theme from Back to the Future.
"Thank you," grunts Palmer from behind the door. "Thank you, so much."
You wait outside the cubicle, shuffling your feet, as Palmer beings to hum what appears to be the main theme from Back to the Future.
Seven plops and three complete performances of the Back to the Future theme later, and Palmer bursts out of the cubicle, holding a microphone.
"This is Palmer Luckey reporting for Oculus news," he says. "Reports are coming in that Palmer Luckey is the luckey-iest boy alive, and he has better toys than all the other boys, and he's strong enough to lift a truck!
"Let me show you the main office," honks Palmer, before running off at incredible speed, shouting: "I hate girls! Girls are stupid and smelly!"
As you struggle to keep pace with his youthful exuberance, you reflect that he neither flushed, nor washed his hands, after using the toilet.
"This is Palmer Luckey reporting for Oculus news," he says. "Reports are coming in that Palmer Luckey is the luckey-iest boy alive, and he has better toys than all the other boys, and he's strong enough to lift a truck!
"Let me show you the main office," honks Palmer, before running off at incredible speed, shouting: "I hate girls! Girls are stupid and smelly!"
As you struggle to keep pace with his youthful exuberance, you reflect that he neither flushed, nor washed his hands, after using the toilet.
You catch up with Palmer in an office, where a group of Oculus VR employees are dancing on the spot and laughing, in a way that feels strained and undignified.
"Please get help," whispers one of the executives, as he gyrates closer to you. "We've been doing this non-stop for three weeks. He's a maniac."
Palmer Luckey stands and watches them, his face impassive and unreadable.
"Please get help," whispers one of the executives, as he gyrates closer to you. "We've been doing this non-stop for three weeks. He's a maniac."
Palmer Luckey stands and watches them, his face impassive and unreadable.
"Stop dancing!" bellows Palmer, eventually, before leaning forward, rubbing his thumbs and forefingers together, and making a smacking sound with his lips.
"Why are you doing this, you babies? You should be making more of the magic binoculars - not dancing for no reason."
"You... you told us to do this," stammers another of the executives. "You told us to start dancing, and not stop until you said it was ok to do so."
"Clear your desk, fatty," snaps Palmer, furiously. "And then go and die. Nobody will even miss you, least of all me."
With his head bowed, the executive leaves.
Palmer claps his hands together, then rapidly rubs his palms against one another. When he has finished, he offers them to your nose.
"Smell these," he pleads. "Smells like a hen's fanny, right? Fanny is the American word for arse."
You give his hands a light sniff. They do indeed smell what you imagine a hen's fanny to smell like. Palmer looks pleased.
"Palmer is pleased," he confirms. "Palmer is 'over the moon'."
"Why are you doing this, you babies? You should be making more of the magic binoculars - not dancing for no reason."
"You... you told us to do this," stammers another of the executives. "You told us to start dancing, and not stop until you said it was ok to do so."
"Clear your desk, fatty," snaps Palmer, furiously. "And then go and die. Nobody will even miss you, least of all me."
With his head bowed, the executive leaves.
Palmer claps his hands together, then rapidly rubs his palms against one another. When he has finished, he offers them to your nose.
"Smell these," he pleads. "Smells like a hen's fanny, right? Fanny is the American word for arse."
You give his hands a light sniff. They do indeed smell what you imagine a hen's fanny to smell like. Palmer looks pleased.
"Palmer is pleased," he confirms. "Palmer is 'over the moon'."
The next stop on the tour is a room where two men stand on chairs.
"These guys are playing a virtual reality diving game," smirks Palmer. "Just watch what happens."
The two men dive off the chairs, and smash into the floor. One is rendered unconscious immediately, the other rolling around in agony, sporting a number of unsightly carpet-burns.
Palmer nods in approval.
"Now get up and do it again!" he croaks, strangely, while twitching and twisting his torso. The one conscious man returns reluctantly to his position on the chair, while his colleague expires on the floor.
"These guys are playing a virtual reality diving game," smirks Palmer. "Just watch what happens."
The two men dive off the chairs, and smash into the floor. One is rendered unconscious immediately, the other rolling around in agony, sporting a number of unsightly carpet-burns.
Palmer nods in approval.
"Now get up and do it again!" he croaks, strangely, while twitching and twisting his torso. The one conscious man returns reluctantly to his position on the chair, while his colleague expires on the floor.
You walk with Palmer to a nearby annex, where a hooded figure appears to be extruding an old computer monitor from his face.
"This is our birthing room," explains Palmer. "Every day, this guy gives birth to something new, through his face. Yesterday it was an anchor. The day before it was a bag of Turkish delight. We don't even know his name."
The two of you watch the figure strain and whimper, as the monitor emerges from his facial aperture.
"This shouldn't even be possible," says Palmer, poignantly. "He's in terrible pain."
"This is our birthing room," explains Palmer. "Every day, this guy gives birth to something new, through his face. Yesterday it was an anchor. The day before it was a bag of Turkish delight. We don't even know his name."
The two of you watch the figure strain and whimper, as the monitor emerges from his facial aperture.
"This shouldn't even be possible," says Palmer, poignantly. "He's in terrible pain."
"I'm feeling pretty good about myself right now," says Palmer, apropos nothing, as together you wander away from the birthing room. "Do you like me?"
Unsure what to say, you settle on a nod, and another, more shallow, nod.
"Cool!" responds Palmer. "I like you too. Let's be best friends.
"Now come on - I've saved the best room for last!"
Unsure what to say, you settle on a nod, and another, more shallow, nod.
"Cool!" responds Palmer. "I like you too. Let's be best friends.
"Now come on - I've saved the best room for last!"
"This is The Room of a Thousand Peaches," reveals Palmer, as he opens the door onto a room full of balloons. "Peaches are the official fruit of Oculus VR. Please, won't you try one of our delicious peaches?"
You go to protest that these are merely balloons, but before you can open your mouth, Palmer has forced a balloon into your face, so hard that it bursts.
Palmer laughs hysterically.
You go to protest that these are merely balloons, but before you can open your mouth, Palmer has forced a balloon into your face, so hard that it bursts.
Palmer laughs hysterically.
"Before you leave, there's someone I want you to meet," insists Palmer. "He's the smartest man in all of creation, and the co-creator of the magic binoculars that we are selling for $600.
"He's right through here. Please hurry. I've got playdate in an hour, with Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol."
"He's right through here. Please hurry. I've got playdate in an hour, with Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol."
Palmer opens a door onto a room, in which a strange man squats upon a desk, writing upon a blackboard.
"Yip yip!" chirrups the strange man, by way of a greeting, nodding frantically at you.
"This is Simon the Pooh", explains Palmer. "He got so smart that he turned blue."
Palmer begins singing: "Simon the Pooh, Simon the Pooh, Got so smart that he turned blue! Went to the bathroom and did a big poo, Simon, Simon, Simon the Pooh!"
Simon the Pooh starts shuffling around the room on his haunches, with his arms above his head, like a chimpanzee being taken for a walk.
"I probably shouldn't tell you this," confesses Palmer, "But I am in love with Simon the Pooh's mother."
"Yip yip!" chirrups the strange man, by way of a greeting, nodding frantically at you.
"This is Simon the Pooh", explains Palmer. "He got so smart that he turned blue."
Palmer begins singing: "Simon the Pooh, Simon the Pooh, Got so smart that he turned blue! Went to the bathroom and did a big poo, Simon, Simon, Simon the Pooh!"
Simon the Pooh starts shuffling around the room on his haunches, with his arms above his head, like a chimpanzee being taken for a walk.
"I probably shouldn't tell you this," confesses Palmer, "But I am in love with Simon the Pooh's mother."
All at once, your vision cuts out, to be replaced with a flickering test card.
"Pray, what is happening here?" you ask yourself, aloud.
"Pray, what is happening here?" you ask yourself, aloud.
And then you remember that you haven't been experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime day with Palmer Luckey after all: you've merely been playing through a sophisticated virtual reality simulation.
Heavily, you remove the VR headset from your eyes, braced for the scene that you know awaits you.
Heavily, you remove the VR headset from your eyes, braced for the scene that you know awaits you.
You are back in your grandmother's house, where you have been all along. An old woman sits in her rocking chair, , emitting the faint whiff of colic and broccoli - just as she was when you left her.
"Did you have a nice time, dear?" she fails to ask.
You recall, with great sadness, that your grandmother passed away weeks ago having spent too long in the prone position. She has been inexplicably replaced by this horrible old witch who never asks if you had a nice time. It's like she doesn't even get you, and she is always doing well bad spells and that.
"Make my dinner!" snaps the old witch. "Or I shall turn you into a barramundi fish!"
With the memory of your great VR adventure already fading, you do as you are told, and begin preparing a hot plate of peas for the evil old witch...
If only real life could be as fun and exciting as virtual reality.
"Did you have a nice time, dear?" she fails to ask.
You recall, with great sadness, that your grandmother passed away weeks ago having spent too long in the prone position. She has been inexplicably replaced by this horrible old witch who never asks if you had a nice time. It's like she doesn't even get you, and she is always doing well bad spells and that.
"Make my dinner!" snaps the old witch. "Or I shall turn you into a barramundi fish!"
With the memory of your great VR adventure already fading, you do as you are told, and begin preparing a hot plate of peas for the evil old witch...
If only real life could be as fun and exciting as virtual reality.
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