Likely Normal

When the metaverse first emerged as the next big thing, corporations eagerly jumped in, visions of digital dollar signs dancing in their heads—only to immediately face the existential nightmare of accounting for assets that may or may not exist in a world where a virtual yacht costs more than a real one. Take virtual real estate, for example. Companies proudly listed their pixelated land parcels as strategic investments, while their CFOs quietly panicked over how to value a plot of code that could plummet in worth if Zuckerberg decided to change the virtual zoning laws—or if users collectively realized they’d rather touch grass than attend another awkward VR board meeting.

Next, there are NFTs, those glittering tokens of unique ownership that now clutter corporate balance sheets. Sure, the CEO insists the $200,000 Bored Ape is a brand-building asset, but the auditors are stuck debating whether it’s an intangible, a collectible, or just an expensive hyperlink to a JPEG that might someday vanish if the hosting platform goes under.

What about payroll?  Will employees be offered salaries in Bitcoin, Ethereum, or—in a truly dystopian twist—company-issued metaverse tokens that fluctuate in value based on how many interns can be convinced to HODL? Meanwhile, the marketing team is expensing virtual Gucci outfits for their avatars, leaving accountants to ponder whether digital fashion depreciates faster than real-world trends. As auditors don VR headsets to inspect virtual warehouses full of NFT inventory, they’re met with the grim realization that their job now involves verifying the existence of things that, by any traditional standard, do not exist at all. In the end, most corporations just shove it all into intangible assets and hope regulators are too confused to ask follow-up questions. After all, in the metaverse, if you ignore the losses hard enough, maybe they’ll just pixelate into oblivion.