fast tra•vel
/fæst ˈtrævəl/ (n.):
The instantaneous transportation of consciousness between proxy bodies via quantum tethering, utilizing digitized soul files to achieve near-instantaneous translocation across physical space.
Welcome to the age of Fast Travel—where death is obsolete, and distance is meaningless.
You stand at the precipice of tomorrow, where the laws of physics bow to human will. In this future—the future envisioned by the thought leaders in ether and soul technology—your consciousness becomes a bullet, fired across the cosmos at the speed of thought.
Picture this: Your body—no, your bodies—scattered like chess pieces across Earth. Proxies, they call them. Perfect clones, sleeping in stasis, waiting for the moment you decide to inhabit them. From New York to Tokyo, from the Arctic to the Amazon, these vessels await your arrival. And when you need to be somewhere else? You don’t travel. You become.
One moment you’re in a London boardroom; the next, you’re standing on a beach in Rio. The journey that once took hours now happens in heartbeats. And this is just the beginning…
Visionaries speak of a future where we’ll leap between planets as easily as continents, where galaxies become neighborhoods in humanity’s ever-expanding reach.
“We’re not just breaking the sound barrier anymore,” declares Dr. Sarah Chen, lead architect of Fast Travel at SoulTech. “We’re shattering reality itself.”
The secret lies in the Ghost File—your digitized soul, your essence encoded in quantum streams. Through the mysterious science of Tethering, you disconnect from one body and resurrect in another.
But paradise has a price…
Every jump drains your Ether Cores—ECs, the currency of tethering itself. Use them all, and you’re grounded, waiting for the regeneration cycle while the world moves without you. The Great Core Collapse of the 3rd An’jel taught us this lesson the hard way: three days of darkness, three days without the Etherverse & Fast Travel, three days that nearly toppled civilization.
“I watched the riots from my office window,” recalls Marcus Wright, former CEO of TransMarine Industries. “People couldn’t comprehend being trapped in one body, one location — anymore. We’d become addicts to omnipresence.”
Now AI guardians monitor every jump, rationing Ether during peak hours like wartime commodities. The system breathes with calculated precision, making hard cuts when demand spikes.
“It’s not about fairness,” admits the Ether Management Council. “It’s about survival.”
And survival comes with side effects.
The vertigo hits first—that stomach-dropping sensation of reality catching up. Veterans call it “proxy sickness,” a natural defense mechanism against rapid tethering. Push too hard, and the fog descends. Some minds crack entirely, consciousness scattered across multiple bodies, unable to reassemble for weeks (or sometimes months).
“My brother jumped seventeen times in one hour,” whispers Maria Gonzalez, a trauma counselor at the Neural Recovery Center. “Three years later, he thinks he’s living three lives simultaneously.”
Then there’s the drift…
Each consecutive jump degrades your navigational accuracy. The calibration systems strain under repeated use, precision bleeding away with each leap. Horror chapters circulate: the executive who materialized inside a concrete pillar (which has been debunked), the tourist who aimed for Paris but landed in the Pacific.
Even rumors like the most recent popular one to resurge, suggesting that you lose a piece of your “soul” whenever you close your eyes while fast traveling…
Yet humanity Adepts. Jump Stations emerge—shared waypoints where travelers pool their Ether Cores, creating mutual survival networks. The wise conserve ECs, the reckless burn them out…
But the revolution doesn’t stop there. Enter proxy sharing—the game-changer that shattered the final barrier to true omnipresence.
“Why own a body in every city when you can rent one for an hour?” asks Yuki Tanaka, founder of ProxyBnB, the platform that turned dormant proxies into profit centers. “My grandmother’s proxy in Kyoto earned more last year than her pension.”
UPDATE: Soultech acquired ProxyBnB for an unknown amount of credits — several months later announcing and coining the proxy sharing term.
The math is simple: billions of proxies lie unused at any given moment. Your Tokyo body sleeps while you work in São Paulo. Your Arctic research proxy gathers dust between expeditions. Now these idle vessels become income streams, rented by the minute to travelers who need a quick jump without the investment.
“I backpacked across Europe without leaving my apartment,” boasts digital nomad Alex Chen. “Thirty cities, fifty proxies, all for the cost of a traditional plane ticket. Who needs to own when you can share?”
The sharing economy exploded overnight. Premium proxies in prime locations command top credits—that athletic body overlooking Sydney Harbor, the frost-resistant model near the Northern Lights. Budget travelers settle for basic models in suburban sprawl, trading luxury for accessibility.
But sharing breeds new nightmares…
Identity thieves hijack rental proxies, leaving their crimes on your ghost file’s record. “Proxy-jackers” override return protocols, squatting in bodies they’ve rented for minutes. The horror chapters multiply: the executive who found his rental proxy married in Vegas, the tourist whose shared body woke up in a police cell.
“We’ve democratized consciousness,” declares the ProxyShare Collective. “But the criminals have weaponized it.”
Meanwhile, entire industries collapse and transform. The mighty cruise ships that once carried millions now float as vertical cities.
“We used to transport bodies across the seas,” Captain James Morrison says, overlooking his converted vessel, now a dry-docked apartment complex. “Now we develop entire communities for them.”
The greatest transformation? AetherPoint—built with ships which were once the crown jewels of oceanic travel, now a sprawling metropolis of decommissioned vessels. Centuries of cruise ships, container vessels, and luxury liners, all dry-docked and converted into a vertical city. Where captains once commanded waves, gang leaders now rule steel corridors. The district sprawls south of Neo Manhattan, its rusted hulls housing millions — with millions migrating there annually — in what’s become the world’s most notorious haven for those living outside the law.
“We’re salvaging ghost ships from the ocean floor now,” Captain James Morrison admits, rubbing his weathered hands. “Yep — we’re dragging up century-old wrecks, anything with a hull we can patch and stack. The Titanic’s sister ships, cargo vessels lost to storms, warships from forgotten conflicts—we’re resurrecting them all. The demand for proxy housing in AetherPoint is insatiable. Every rusted hull becomes multi-plex apartments, every sunken deck a new floor. We’ve gone from maritime transport to underwater archaeology, because there simply aren’t enough ships left floating to house the people.”
The auto industry bleeds too. Autopods—those sleek, self-driving vehicles that once revolutionized transportation—gather dust in abandoned lots.
“Why own an autopod when you can be anywhere instantly with your mind?” asks Kenji Nakamura, former CEO of Velocity Motors. “We went from selling millions to struggling to move thousands. The highways — although busy — are ghost towns compared to what they where thousands of years ago during peak jump hours.”
NOTE: Last year Velocity Motors was forced to close there doors globally after over 600 years serving the automotive industry. The flight industry has also seen devastating declines in the past 50 years…
And still…
This is your inheritance: a world where distance died, but limitation lives. Where omnipresence demands sacrifice, and consciousness itself becomes a managed resource.
The question isn’t whether you’ll master Fast Travel. The question is: Can you afford the cost of being everywhere at once?
Your next body is waiting. Your Ether Cores are regenerating.
All you have to do is let go.
