Week 6: The biological clock has Gone Digital
The last thing I expected to find while browsing the Second Life classifieds was an adoption agency. I teleported myself into the New Life Adoption Agency to find a brunette Fabio-type named Kenan in a black leather coat, surrounded by "children." 
Were these kids like the virtual "pet" my niece got for Christmas that requires feedings, medicine for toothaches and regular attention to avoid slipping into a morose funk? Or do they expect the full attention of a real parent/child relationship, with all its complexities and joys? Would the parents think ahead and refrain from dropping Linden on yachts and private islands so their kids could become educated with the stashed dough? Would life be like the Simpsons, where perpetually smooth-faced parents would stay frozen in time with a toddler, or would the tiny avatar grow ever so slightly, hitting puberty, causing problems, bringing home a gangly date in a pale blue suit for the prom?
Let's say, for the sake of the argument, that there are people out there who want to relive childhood and others who truly want to raise a virtual baby and "evolve" strong progressive families, as is the stated mission of New Life Adoption Agency. Kenan told me that he has seven children, and that they eat dinners of turkey and ice cream together.
Every night? Do they discuss the day's events? How does he keep these children out of trouble? And what happens to a virtual child when her parents are offline?
Daycare, Kenan told me.
Sure. Daycare. I haven't had time yet to train the virtual Rottweiler that I bought for $500 Linden when I heard that a peeping tom was loose on the island where I live. He's sitting in my inventory along with some tables that didn't work out and a relaxation rug that was better in theory than practice. Daycare? I could only imagine the screening process for those makeshift nannies. I asked Kenan how he can be sure that avatars looking for hardcore ageplay aren't going to exploit the adopted children, and he told me that the screening process is thorough. It isn't that kind of agency.
So here's what I picture. That tiny baby at my feet is actually a 98-year-old woman with her mind perfectly intact, surviving on a steady stream of oxygen in an assisted-living facility somewhere, surrounded by sepia-toned photographs of the people who once populated her real life, before her body gave out on her. I have interviewed numerous avatars who have taken refuge in Second Life after disfiguring accidents, from fires to collisions to the war in Iraq, took away their ability, or willingness, to connect meaningfully in real life. Many people have had their joy diminished by circumstance, such as advanced age or illness. Some are caring for sick spouses or parents and need an outlet for the impulses still experienced by healthy people who are selfless enough to commit to caring for those in need.
In the December 26 issue of PC magazine, columnist John C. Dvorak wrote, "Unreal Life? Get a Life," in which he asserts that the "computer, as useful as it is, should not be used as a device for socialization. People should not be meeting each other over the computer. They should not be doing deals over the computer. They should not be doing deals with each other in any way." While mocking Second Life residents, he wrote:
"Can you say Dungeons & Dragons dorks?"
The idea of the avatar, according to Dvorak, "must be a dream come true for phonies worldwide."
I can empathize with his desire to promote the traditional, face-to-face system we've all come to accept as the norm (to be clear, I much prefer it myself), but he might as well have snapped his suspenders and sucked on his corn-cob pipe as he launched into a speech about how when he was a kid he had to walk six miles to school with a lingering limp from his polio.
The fact is, whether or not deals ought to be done on the computer, or people ought to meet, that's exactly what's happening. Arguing about this is a bit like the media covering the Aniston-Pitt split or the exposed Brit-bits to nauseating excess while the world is on the cusp of the most significant turning point in the history of humanity, not to mention at war. The argument over gay marriage will be so passé when the mainstream catches on to the fact that complete strangers are forming virtual families...and adopting children with much less difficulty than Madonna faced when leaving Malawi with her little David.
Dvorak's closing advice: Get a life and get off the computer, for cripes' sake!
Too late.
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