

Meta released the social network in the United States and Canada last December and is slowly rolling it out to the rest of the world, much as Facebook did with college campuses in its early days. I chatted with some Brits who had only just been able to join Horizon. I quickly realized that the metaverse was, with the exception of its games and exercise apps, best experienced sitting down. The first time I did this, I got motion sick and nearly fell over. I moved around using a joystick on my hand controller. Perhaps because I am not a gamer, the first thing that always struck me as I traveled from world to world in Horizon was the sound of other people: a child complaining about being made to eat, say, or someone coughing, which made me flinch even though the real-world germs were very far away. I traveled to the Plaza, the social network’s brightly colored, central gathering place, where one can shoot hoops on a basketball court, climb treehouses, throw paper airplanes and play a floor piano’s rainbow keys – somewhat odd options for an app supposedly reserved for those 18 and older. The rest of the family was sound asleep, so I pulled my headset on with hands that were out-of-control itchy thanks to a poisonous plant I had touched while weeding in the real-verse. One Saturday morning, my dog woke me up at a painfully early hour, whimpering to go outside. The avatars of other users interact with Kashmir Hill, a technology reporter for The New York Times, during her visit to Horizon Worlds, Meta’s virtual reality-based social network. Meta has an impressive track record, fundamentally changing the way its nearly 3 billion users socialize, share information and waste time. ,” said Vishal Shah, the executive in charge of “the spatial co-present version of the internet” that the company formerly known as Facebook has staked its future on. Horizon is “Meta’s universe in the metaverse

“I do not want to hear this,” says someone who sounds as though he’s standing to my left, though I’m alone in my office. “Want to hear a story about my school?” he asks in a youthful voice that suggests a tale of sixth-grade woes.


He stares at me in reply, so I float away.Ī baseball-capped avatar takes the stage and picks up the mic. When I enter, a man in a gray hoodie comes up to me. I choose a world with a four-story comedy club under a starry sky. I could meditate, cardio box or kill zombies, but I am here for Horizon Worlds, Meta’s VR-based social network, where at least 300,000 people hang out as cartoon versions of themselves, building virtual mansions, nightclubs, gardens and theaters – known as worlds. This breathtaking spot (which I can change, like desktop wallpaper) is a glorified lobby, where I choose an app to load. I turn my head to gaze at a distant river and a golden sky dotted with hot-air balloons. I am transported to a mountainside villa. When I power it up, the cries of “I want Mama to do bedtime” fade away, replaced by the sounds of a gentle breeze and birds chirping. on a Friday, I put on Meta’s $399 virtual-reality headset: the Quest 2, a bulky, white visor loaded with all manner of cameras, microphones, speakers, eye displays and sensors. Shutting myself in my home office at 7 p.m. My two young daughters are both crying as I tell my husband that he’s on his own because I’m going to the metaverse.
