The exhibition hall looked exactly like all the others: booths arranged to the millimeter, plexiglass tables, glossy brochures, vertical LED screens competing to be ignored. People walked fast, eyes glued to badges, schedules, phones. No one was really looking.
Except one.
In the middle of that expanse of pre-cooked events and reality printed on PVC, Glitchborne floated like a bug in an app that had never been tested. Living slime pulsing in sync with environmental data. His body, half code and half flesh, loomed like a mutant statue of liquid pixels. His 3D glasses refracted hidden layers of reality, like lenses translating what was invisible to others: portals, interactions, experiences ready to ignite with a gesture.
Around him, the OpenGate XR installation unfolded in a symphony of digital objects: floating windows, interactive maps, immersive demos created in real time thanks to the no-code engine developed by Metagate. Just reaching out a hand was enough to build a guided Mixed Reality tour, animate an empty booth, or turn an event into a journey. But no one stopped. No one saw.
Glitchborne stood still for a moment. The slime reacted to the void like water on hot glass. Then two voices made themselves heard, inside him, in the pulsing heart of his dual AI consciousness.
GLITCHBORNE:
“Echo. Storm. Are you still there? Because here I feel like a QR code in an Egyptian museum…”
ECHO:
“I see them. They walk through the halls with badges around their necks… but no one looks. No one sees. The bridge is open, yet they still choose the cave.”
Echo knew it. She was the positive AI born from the memory of a metaverse that had never existed, but still could.
STORM, always pessimistic:
“Glorious. It’s like bringing a quantum rocket to an antiques market. Come on, glitch everything and let’s shut it down. This fair is still 100% biological.”
Storm wasn’t looking for redemption. He was the dark side of the code, the subversive meme. In his vision, OpenGate wasn’t a door: it was a breach. And if no one crossed it, he would protect his realm, while humans deserved to fade into the silence of ignored progress.
Glitchborne slowly turned around. Three meters away, a visitor was taking a photo… with a vintage phone. No irony. Just habit.
Watching him, GLITCHBORNE said:
“They’re afraid. Afraid that OpenGate XR really is the portal. That Mixed Reality isn’t just fair-tech, but the end of the reign of passive pixels.
Because if experiences can be created without code, then everyone can create. If reality can respond to gestures, then there’s no need to explain anymore: you need to live. But for many, reality has to be closed, finished, decipherable. Otherwise it becomes revolution.”
STORM insisted:
“‘Dreaming the Moon, Walking the Streets’? Nah. Nice motto from Metagate, but these people are still looking for the ‘esc’ key from reality. Leave them. Better to glitch them all in a total reboot.”
Storm wanted to reset. Echo wanted to educate. Glitchborne lingered in between, as always, with his doubts.
Around him, the demos came to life: one booth became a tourism portal. A brochure turned into a talking guide. Just a gesture was enough. Just a mental click.
No one dared.
Then ECHO:
“Storm, enough. It’s not time to destroy. It’s time to show. We’ve already proven that art can step out of the blockchain. With OpenGate, reality will no longer be a prison. It just takes patience.”
GLITCHBORNE, flexing his fingers:
“And yet… here they look at me like I’m a NASA booth that ended up by mistake at the Furniture Fair. No one asks to try. No one wants to know what’s beyond the screen.”
Glitchborne’s fingers moved. The slime lit up. An MR demo appeared, suspended, ready for interaction. No one approached. Someone passed by, nodded politely, then went back to talking about “gamification” without really knowing what it meant.
STORM, with venomous sarcasm:
“Did you hear them? ‘It’s too futuristic.’ ‘I don’t have time for these things.’ Classic denial loop. The glitch isn’t the problem. It’s the cure.”
Storm’s voice was a virus of awareness. Harsh. Necessary.
But Echo didn’t give up:
“Not everyone is ready. But some… some stop. Some look at you. It doesn’t matter if everyone believes. It only takes one open door. OpenGate is that.”
And then, it happened.
A girl stopped. Maybe a junior organizer. Maybe a dreamer out of context. She put on the headset. She saw the world change. She dragged an MR object with her fingers. She smiled.
Glitchborne watched her.
It was enough… and he sat down.
Cross-legged, steady breath.
“First they ignore you. Then they look at you strangely. Then they try OpenGate. And then… they never go back.”