《Spectres & Skin: Exodus》


 Prologue

    <h2>Prologue</h2>


    London, England ¨C 10 months until the Exodus


    Anderson Hendrix looked out of the window from his twentieth-floor office at the grey dust that had once been the city he loved. He thought about how easy it would be to throw open the latch, step onto the balcony, and then throw himself off of it.


    Easy, yes, but who would be left to do what only he could do? What only he had the bravery to do?


    He pushed his spectacles up and rubbed his eyelids hard. He wasn¡¯t a psychopath. He wasn¡¯t a murderer, and he wasn¡¯t evil. He knew these things for a fact, but he also knew another fact: he would go down in the annals of history as all of these things.


    Because humanity as a whole would need to make sense of what he was about to do.


    Anderson saw no other path. He had a direct link with the President of the United States, and a smattering of other important world leaders. The Earth was doomed to shrivel and die, and every day it was eroding a little more, with a scorching hiss like the end of a cigarette butt. But he could delay its death for long enough that the Planet X3 Project could go underway.


    The problem was overpopulation. The problem was that the X3 Project was underfunded.


    His assistant stepped into his office after several knocks that he could only bring himself to mumble a response to. Her heels clicked across the linoleum as she made her way to his desk. Her calves were pale and shapely. Her pencil skirt fit her tight frame perfectly, and her white blouse was open by enough buttons to show the swell of her young cleavage. Between her breasts nestled a swirling vortex of green and gold in the form of a chunky pendant, and the colour matched her eyes, he appreciated, which were almost concealed by the sweep of her white-blonde hair.


    Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips pinched thin, and Anderson wondered ¡ª or knew ¡ª that this was because he was openly staring at her. But why bother to hide that he was attracted to her any more? The world was going to damn well end in a handful of years anyway, because he had found no clean solution to his two problems. He would solve problem number one first and foremost, but would the extra couple of years he gifted Earth be enough for the scientists to complete Project X3, and the mass exodus of humans to the Earth-like planet before their own planet literally crumbled beneath their feet?


    Outside, the visible pollution curled ominously around the nearby skyscrapers.


    There had been a time that Anderson Hendrix had believed that he¡¯d earned a seat in heaven, among the clouds, but he¡¯d soon realised he had earned a chair in hell, among the smog.


    ¡°Mr. Hendrix, I have an unexpected visitor for you,¡± the assistant said, bringing his attention happily back to her full lips.


    He imagined what they would look like, exploring his ageing body.


    He wondered what she would taste like, too; young and lithe as she was. Probably nothing like his rapidly souring wife, who had not even pretended to love him for a half decade now.


    And then, he wondered what his punishment would be for taking what didn¡¯t belong to him, in a world like this one. Would she be worth the slap on the wrist that a ¡®lifetime¡¯ in jail had become?


    ¡°Mr. Hendrix,¡± she snapped, and he looked back up into her sharp green eyes.


    ¡°You know that I don¡¯t take unexpected appointments,¡± was all he said, and he slid his chair back underneath his desk.


    ¡°Well, I thought you would make an exception for this one. He has a reputation that precedes him, and he wants to help you with your ¡­ problems.¡±


    Anderson sat up straighter. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Bryson Mayer, sir,¡± the assistant said. ¡°He made his way into the billionaire club when he released his latest VR technology: The Afterlife.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it,¡± Anderson said, and turned away slightly.


    She sighed, clearly unperturbed. ¡°Well, the money speaks for itself. He has rather an interesting proposal, Sir. He thinks that he can help you. With all due respect, I think it would be well within your best interests¡ª¡±


    ¡°How would an assistant understand what my best interests are?¡± he asked, his laughter cracking like a whip and making her flinch backwards.


    ¡°Sir,¡± she began coolly, ¡°I graduated first in my class for International Relations at Oxford, and then at my Master¡¯s degree in Cambridge. Which you know, since you hired me. I would appreciate it if you didn¡¯t reduce me to ¡®an assistant¡¯,¡± his assistant said. ¡°My role here is vital, if I may say so myself.¡±


    Anderson nodded. He was struggling to keep listening.


    ¡°Send him in,¡± he said.


    She clicked out of his office and soon a young, scrawny man with a trendy haircut and a wide, gap-toothed smile strolled in and immediately picked up Anderson¡¯s desk plant and inspected it with a squint.


    Anderson was taken aback, and felt the need to stand and motion for the young man to return his cactus to his own hands. Bryson made no move to do so, however, and simply turned it around in his hand with an amused stare.


    ¡°Listen, can I help you?¡± Anderson asked, his tone already falling well into the category of ¡®irritated¡¯, and they had interacted for less than twelve seconds.


    Bryson pulled in a whistling breath through his nostrils and let it out again before opting to make eye contact. ¡°This is a Rat¡¯s Tail cactus,¡± he said finally.


    ¡°Yes. So? Put it down.¡± Anderson was feeling quite agitated and riled up and he didn¡¯t know why.


    ¡°I just wonder why a man would outwardly advertise something so ugly when he has the pick of the rest of the ¡­ floral community,¡± Bryson finished, spreading his lips wide and revealing crooked teeth.


    Anderson sat down and rubbed at the salt and pepper stubble on his neck. The man was trying his patience. And his assistant had been snarky towards him. That was it. The younger generation had no respect.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Mr. Hendrix,¡± Bryson said, setting the plant back down on the desk before sliding down into the only other chair, and then threading his fingers awkwardly together as if he had seen the move on television. ¡°I have heard, through the grapevine, of your predicament.¡±


    Anderson watched, sour, silent.


    ¡°I think ¡ª ah! No, I know ¡ª that I can help.¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡± They were never going to be close friends, but if the man actually had a solution, who was Anderson to shoo him away?


    ¡°I started something a number of years ago. Before The Afterlife, in fact. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of that, at least.¡±


    ¡°I have not.¡±


    Bryson ignored the statement as if it were insane. ¡°A billion dollar game. 50 million copies sold and counting. Millions of people online at once at any given time. An average, excluding much higher outliers, of 55 hours a week per person spent in-game. Do you know what that means?¡±


    ¡°That people like video games.¡±


    Bryson nodded encouragingly. ¡°People want to escape, Mr. Hendrix. My generation has never even seen what the Earth looked like in her glory days. Your generation probably barely remembers clear water ¡ª clear skies ¡ª am I right?¡±


    Anderson didn¡¯t feel like replying.


    ¡°My new game is better than The Afterlife. It¡¯s ten times bigger. Cultures have sprung up. Tribes. Natural selection. Wars. Religions, some following gods that actually exist in-game and some following false gods. Isn¡¯t that fascinating? Flora was my favourite aspect to implement. I meticulously added plant after plant, and I tweaked the code until they all behaved accordingly. There are species I invented, in my mind, Mr. Hendrix, that exist symbiotically with each other in ways I didn¡¯t even plan for! I have created something that meets all official parameters for being considered an actual bona fide parallel universe. Do you understand what that makes me?¡± Bryson¡¯s eyes were wide and his hands trembled.


    Anderson didn¡¯t want to hear the answer he expected, so he changed the course of the conversation.


    ¡°What does this have to do with me?¡±


    Bryson paused, his lips quivering with the urge to keep speaking. ¡°It¡¯s a clean, fresh utopia. It¡¯s packed full of infinite ways to live one¡¯s life. It¡¯s realistic ¡ª my beta testers say it¡¯s more realistic sometimes than reality. There is colour and vibrancy that really only exists in movies here on Earth.¡± He paused to take a deep breath. ¡°Hearing the essays of praise that my game has received, Mr. Hendrix, and hearing your issues and the issues facing humanity, I had an idea.¡±


    ¡°Mm, and what was that?¡± Anderson was not a patient man at the best of times. He was growing hot under the collar with irritation.


    ¡°We invite humans to move their lives to paradise. And we charge them for the privilege,¡± Bryson said, spreading his fingers wide. ¡°The money goes to the X3 Project. The people remain semi-comatose, requiring barely any sustenance and oxygen while they are in-game. We could even fire them off to a space station or shove ¡®em underground.¡±


    Anderson paused, wide-eyed, and then scooted his chair closer and laid his palms on the surface of his desk. He was interested now, that was for sure.


    ¡°We charge people ¡­ to leave the Earth?¡± he asked, breathless. ¡°How many people would go? A few thousand?¡± That would buy them a little while longer.


    Bryson laughed and shook his head, and Anderson felt himself getting hot again. Was he overshooting? Overexcited already? ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear me? The Afterlife was a rushed, shoddy filler game while I worked on S&S. And people spend more time there than they spend on full-time jobs. They chose to spend the time of a second career there, in that world, instead of with their beloved families. When the reviews come out for S&S those numbers will double. Triple. Millions of people will willingly shut their eyes and leave Earth, Mr. Hendrix, do you understand me now? Millions.¡±


    ¡°And¡­¡± Anderson¡¯s mouth was dry. ¡°How much can we charge them each?¡±


    Bryson grinned ear to ear. ¡°The Afterlife, all in, cost each player almost ¡ê400, or $500.¡±


    Anderson reeled. ¡°Five hundred million dollars towards the X3 Project, and several extra years? That would ¡­ that would really help us out.¡± He was dizzy, and had to remind himself that good things didn¡¯t just fall into one¡¯s lap like this.


    ¡°I got my people to run numbers and with less sustenance needed for these people, Earth might survive another six years.¡±


    With a few hard blinks, Anderson thought back to his own numbers and his own predictions. Even with a few extra million dollars, the project was still ten or twelve years away from completion. He deflated and rubbed his face with his hands.


    Moments passed, during which neither men said a word to each other ¡ª apparently Bryson was content enough just to sit in an uncompaniable silence ¡ª until Anderson lifted his head and croaked, ¡°What about ¡­ safety?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s safe,¡± he said, chipper. ¡°It¡¯s very safe. Especially if we ship ¡®em all off. Their bodies and minds are sort of disconnected while they play. Their consciousnesses are essentially uploaded into the cloud, which is a technology Mayer Enterprises alone owns ¡ª you don¡¯t get immersion like that anywhere else. Every other company has things like haptics to allow you to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please, I¡¯m getting a migraine,¡± Anderson hissed. ¡°I just need to know the basics so I can digest all of this information over the next few days.¡±


    ¡°Right. I forget that not everybody I talk to is a part of my company,¡± Bryson said with a small laugh. ¡°Anyway. Our technology is such that their consciousnesses are protected no matter what happens to their physical bodies. So we just need to mass-store the bodies for the next few years somewhere and keep them on IV drips.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s the most likely scenario that would annihilate every body hooked up to your video game?¡± Anderson asked tentatively. ¡°For prevention.¡±


    ¡°Well, a natural disaster. Lava. Earthquake. All impossible here in bonnie old England.¡± Bryson let out another odd laugh. ¡°You can rest assured that the generators keeping the bodies alive will be backed up by as many as money can buy.¡±


    ¡°Money?¡±


    ¡°Mm, some of the profits will need to go towards storage.¡± Bryson nodded a few times. ¡°I think we can agree, though, that this is the best plan we have.¡±


    We? Anderson clicked his tongue. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure to meet you, Mr¡­¡± He chewed his lower lip and realised he had forgotten the man¡¯s name. He allowed himself to trail off, and nodded towards the door. ¡°As you can imagine, I have a lot to think about.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to helping in any way I can,¡± Bryson said politely.


    He waited until Bryson had let himself out and the door had shut before he used the intercom to summon his assistant back into his office. ¡°Please,¡± he said, when he saw her still-annoyed face in his doorway. ¡°Set up a line with the President.¡± He gestured lazily to the screen to his left.


    His assistant nodded curtly and left again. Once the door was shut, a large countdown appeared on the screen. 3 ¡­ 2 ¡­ 1.


    The tired, drawn look of the American president appeared, a little too close for comfort since the HD quality allowed Anderson intimate knowledge of every pore on the politician¡¯s face.


    ¡°Mr. President,¡± he said politely, with a small nod. They had passed the point of standing to greet each other during a video call.


    ¡°Mr. Hendrix,¡± the President said, his voice drawn and hoarse. Through the sliver of window behind him, Anderson could see the outside world was as bleak and grey there as it was in England. ¡°Good news?¡±


    ¡°How much time would eighty million, give or take a body, buy us?¡± he asked, his voice low.


    The President allowed his head to loll thoughtfully in one direction. ¡°Just under eleven years for a hundred million.¡±


    Anderson¡¯s face tightened. ¡°Add about a half a billion dollars to the equation.¡±


    The President¡¯s lips drew up, but the rest of his face was in mourning for something and didn¡¯t join in with the smile. ¡°And then, Mr. Hendrix, you just might save all our asses.¡±

 Chapter 1

    <h2>Chapter 1</h2>


    Canterbury, England ¨C six days until the Exodus


    I could swear it wasn¡¯t the alcohol in my system that was making me dance like a lunatic, that what I was doing to this unsuspecting dancefloor was 100% pure proof Matthew Blake, but we all know I¡¯d be lying.


    The club wasn¡¯t as full as it usually was ¡ª probably because better ones had come out this week ¡ª and it didn¡¯t take me long to get served. I wrenched the four sambuca shots from the sticky bar and held them tightly between my fingers as I turned and weaved my way through the crowded dancefloor. Bodies slipped past me, gyrating and moving to the thumping music, everyone locked into their own worlds. I reached the corner table I had left my potential conquests sitting at.


    Two pretty but scowling young ladies turned and regarded the offering with interest, but then turned and looked right beside me instead, and their eyes grew three sizes.


    ¡°Hey ¡­ you¡¯re that guy, from the ad!¡±


    My puffed out chest deflated like a balloon and without looking to see who had just joined them, I instead jerked my chin upward once in greeting. ¡°Hey, Luke,¡± I said. ¡°I got you a shot.¡±


    ¡°Shit, Matt, you can have any drink you want, and you choose sambuca?¡± my best friend asked with a low chuckle, but relieved me of two of the shot glasses anyway. The girls tittered at his comment. Luke handed one of the women ¡ª the prettier one, I noted bitterly ¨Cone of his shots, leaving me to hand the other girl my extra one.


    ¡°So, what do you girls¡ª¡± I began.


    ¡°What was it like meeting Cormoran Lake?¡± the prettier girl asked Luke loudly. ¡°You looked like you were such close friends!¡±


    Luke chuckled again. Even his laugh was more handsome than me. I regarded my best friend up and down in the strobing light of the club. Luke hadn¡¯t even needed to enhance his looks before going out, what kind of bullshit was that? All he did was add a tattoo or two to his skin. One was obvious now as his fingers casually brushed the girl¡¯s: the Japanese character for ¡®power¡¯ on his wrist, which just looked a little like a big ¡®K¡¯. Somehow, it still looked cool on him.


    I was tall, but Luke was two inches taller, and though he was less broad-shouldered, he was well-muscled and had very little body fat. His eyes were a grey-blue and his hair a muted ash blond. I, on the other hand, was a little wider, a little shorter, and had the most boring combination of brown hair and brown eyes.


    That, combined with the fact that he was a fast-rising actor with charm for miles, was why girls never noticed me when I was out with Luke.


    But what was I going to do about it? No one had ever been more understanding, or offered more than my stupid best friend had, so I wasn¡¯t exactly going anywhere.


    I guess I just decided a long time ago that I was going to have to get used to being second best. At the very best. At whatever I tried. I was never going to be first while Luke was around. And I had no particular interest in life without a friendship as good as this one. So I was stuck.


    Things could be worse.


    We all tilted our heads back, and I could almost feel the burn of the liquid in my throat. This thing was so close to being realistic; I could hardly believe it. I tried to pull one of the girls over to dancefloor, but she giggled and shook her head, which was a disappointment. That was all I had over Luke: I was a pretty good dancer.


    So, obviously the universe had felt it was important to take that away from me a few years ago, so that again I would have nothing.


    I was starting to get really bitter, as I often did after a night out in one of these bars, so I turned to Luke and gave him the eyes. The ones you shoot to your buddy when you¡¯re really not feeling it and you¡¯re thinking of taking off. Around us, music thumped and people bobbed. Not a single unattractive person in this joint, and yet I just didn¡¯t feel any semblance of self-confidence. I wasn¡¯t going to get laid or anything, so I thought I may as well go back.


    ¡°You thinking of heading off, man?¡± Luke asked, away from the girls. I shrugged a little.


    ¡°Maybe, don¡¯t know if I¡¯m feeling it. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry. You came out for a few hours, that¡¯s all I wanted. Thanks for celebrating with me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an amazing accomplishment. Your second ad campaign, and this one you¡¯re right beside a full-fledged A-lister. It¡¯s amazing, dude, congrats.¡±


    He grinned at me. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said again. ¡°Feels great. I feel like running a mile, you know?¡± His face paled as he realised what he had just said, and I waved him away as we strolled towards the big double doors to the bar.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, I¡¯ve told you things like that don¡¯t bother me,¡± I said. But Luke wasn¡¯t the kind of guy to say things without worrying they might upset other people. He was good at getting what he wanted without stepping on anyone¡¯s toes, that was for sure. That was probably why he had chosen that ¡®power¡¯ symbol tattoo for his wrist. Discreet, unassuming, but very much there.


    ¡°Is something bothering you, Matt?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m just bummed out I haven¡¯t been able to find a job and we graduated, what? Four months ago?¡± I shrugged again as if to pretend I didn¡¯t really care, but I obviously did. Why couldn¡¯t I find any work?


    ¡°Have you thought about the paths you¡¯re trying to go down?¡± he asked, raising his voice as the music changed and became even more oppressive ¡ª normally I love club music, but I was really not feeling anything that wasn¡¯t my bed back home. ¡°You know technology and computer stuff is just so saturated right now.¡±


    I nodded slowly. He was right. Everyone was in tech, and everyone was a computer genius. I wasn¡¯t special. I hadn¡¯t thought I was. ¡°What should I try to go into?¡± I yelled over the drum beat. ¡°Acting?¡± I joked.


    ¡°Labour or something is always hiring,¡± he said leaning against a wall, and then he screwed up his face with guilt.


    ¡°Dude, I told you, it¡¯s fine,¡± I was quick to assure him.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry, it¡¯s just seeing you like this¡­¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± I smiled. ¡°Anyway, I can¡¯t do labour even if I were able. My muscles are purely aesthetic.¡± I pushed up my shirt to expose my six pack and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. ¡°I¡¯m off now,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to you later.¡±


    ¡°Course, thanks again for coming out,¡± he said, raising his empty shot glass to me and smirking. Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°See ya,¡± I said, needlessly repeating goodbyes as I scrolled through the menu screen. I reached out and tapped on the floating ¡®Log Out¡¯ and my haptic glove in real life vibrated to make it seem like I was touching something real, as ever.


    Everything went black, and then I slowly opened my eyes.


    My real eyes.


    They were dry and uncomfortable and I groaned audibly as I hauled myself out of bed and onto my chair. I needed some water. When it came to virtual reality I always found myself caught in the dilemma of being too thirsty when I returned, or risking staying too long and wetting the bed. The latter hadn¡¯t happened to me yet, but I already had issues with the nerve endings in my lower body.


    Once securely in my chair I ran my hands over the wheels and glided smoothly through the dark and dingy one-bedroom flat so conveniently close to the university I had already graduated from, and into the kitchen. I always liked the way the wheels clicked over the threshold and made a different noise on the linoleum.


    I reached up high for a glass and rolled my way to the tap. I hadn¡¯t always been in a wheelchair; I wasn¡¯t born this way. Luke and I had had an extreme sports phase, and I had tied a knot wrong when rock climbing one day. I¡¯d landed with my spine squarely on a goddamn rock. I can still remember the pain. Sometimes the memory keeps me up at night ¡ª it¡¯s the kind of pain that transcends time itself.


    But when I went into my VR games, my brain could happily pretend I had fully working legs again. It was pretty miraculous, I had to admit. In some more advanced software I could even feel below my waist again, if a little ¡­ dulled.


    The Afterlife was my favourite game because it was the closest I had ever come to feeling like I truly had a working lower body since my accident. Bryson Mayer was a goddamn genius. I had posters up, and I spent most of my time in the game.


    If was going to be honest with myself ¡ª just for a moment ¡ªthen a big reason I didn¡¯t have a good job yet, despite having a great degree and a repertoire of relevant skills ¡­ was because I just couldn¡¯t stomach the thought of being outside The Afterlife for too long. I would apply for a job and reward myself with six hours in the game. Then I¡¯d finally feel a little guilty, or worry that I might need to piss in real life, and I¡¯d come back and eat and apply for another. Repeat forever.


    I scooted to my VR hub and tapped on it to check my credits. 800 left. I blew out some air. I actually needed some money soon or I wouldn¡¯t be able to afford in-game luxuries like shots of sambuca. And if I did buy things like that, I shouldn¡¯t just immediately port back to reality where I would no longer feel the effects of any alcohol. I was wasting my life. I had no more spare cash to transfer into credits.


    I leaned back and readjusted my feet before typing a message to Luke to apologise. He came back instantly, so I figured he had unplugged and gone back home too. I turned to look out the window to give the real world outside a scowl. It was, in a way, the pollution that had crippled me like this. My oxygen mask had slipped while we were climbing that mountain and I hadn¡¯t had the time or the hands to fix it. My vision blurred, I slipped, and the knot wasn¡¯t tied right. I could have died.


    I was lucky I hadn¡¯t. I had to remember that sometimes, instead of blaming everything in the world but me for what had happened.


    ¡®I have to stop spending money until I find a job,¡¯ I tapped out to Luke, and hesitated before pressing ¡®send¡¯ because I knew it would just upset him, but I felt I had to make the point anyway.


    ¡®Why not move back in with the mother?¡¯ he asked.


    ¡®Because of the stepfather. He still hates me.¡¯


    ¡®Pfft.¡¯


    I let myself smile at his reply, then tap out some more. ¡®Maybe should start to prioritise real experiences over virtual ones, anyway??¡¯


    Luke lingered over his response but it came through after a minute. ¡®Virtual experiences are just as real as reality if they feel real. My uncle has a great spiel about all that shit.¡¯


    I smirked. His uncle was a coder for Mayer Enterprises. That was, of course, the only reason I had been able to get a copy of The Afterlife at all. There was no way I¡¯d be able to get my hands on something that expensive otherwise.


    ¡®Legend,¡¯ I typed noncommittally.


    ¡®Smog looks a bit clearer than it did yesterday.¡¯


    I heard this a lot from people, but to be honest I never saw it. It was always swirling, circling, or lifting into the sky in plumes. It was horrific. I didn¡¯t respond, and he sent me another message.


    ¡®Have I mentioned I¡¯m freaking out about those S&S beta reviews?¡¯


    I sat up straighter. ¡®They¡¯re out??¡¯ I responded with a smile on my face. He had talked about literally nothing else for months.


    ¡®SERIOUSLY THOUGH? Shit is INTENSE. It¡¯s so realistic that people actually cried in his arms when he pulled them from the beta. People are saying it makes the real world look like it¡¯s in greyscale. Omg. I cannot wait.¡¯


    I wondered how best to put this. I hated the thought that Luke might think I was ever using him, but ¡­ it had to be said, there were some serious perks to his friendship. ¡®I need this game.¡¯


    ¡®I¡¯m on it. I heard someone was giving out free codes like candy on some forum but the poster deleted his account and my uncle can¡¯t seem to get any.¡¯


    ¡®I mean¡­¡­ lean on him,¡¯ I said. I had heard some seriously crazy things about this game. That the game world was actually bigger than the Earth, and there was stuff to do in every nook and cranny of it. That the creators hadn¡¯t physically placed each object, but set the world in motion years ago and watched it grow. How incredible is that? My heart pounded every time I thought about it. People were saying that it made The Afterlife look like Space Invaders.


    ¡®Could just save up for it I guess,¡¯ I wrote, though I knew it would cost me half a month¡¯s wages at any job I was likely to get, at the very least. It¡¯d be a blow, but I was one hundred percent sure it would be worth it.


    ¡®Did you look up how much this one costs?¡¯


    Aw, shit. No. I headed over to search for the answer on another tab and the figure was bold at the top of my screen. I nearly retched. I nearly fell out of my chair. Not half a month of a graduate salary. No.


    Try fifteen fucking years of a graduate salary.


    I covered my mouth and shook my head, then went back to type to Luke. ¡®Noo,¡¯ I said. ¡®Why?¡¯


    ¡®Because dude ¡­ it¡¯s not a game. It¡¯s a new life.¡¯ There was a long pause where I hoped he was happy about what he had just said. Because it had made me mad for some reason. ¡®The money goes to fund the x3 planet shit. Your body goes into storage. So you¡¯re giving up your life savings or life insurance, I¡¯m not sure. Then when you come back from living in the game you go back to your body and they fly you all to join the rest of the people over on x3.¡¯


    For a life outside of this one ¡ª living in the hell humanity has created on Earth ¡ª I would pay all that money and more. If I had it.


    Shit.


    ¡®Listen. Listen. I just got an email back. He says he might have a way we can get in!¡¯


    ¡®For ten years?¡¯


    ¡®No dude just to test it. Poke around. For FREE.¡¯


    I chewed on my lip hard. Just poke around? I knew myself. I was going to spend the next week in that world, coming out only to eat and drink and go to the bathroom. I couldn¡¯t wait. If I could have, I¡¯d have been squirming in my seat.


    ¡®Everyone who pays gets to test it for a bit. Then if they hate it they get a full refund, and have a week to opt out and go back to reality. We can just go for the week and opt out but without paying the upfront fee he says.¡¯


    I read and reread his message. It was too good to be true. But just a week? Of the greatest experience any of those testers had ever had? Ever?


    I knew one thing: it was going to be really, really hard to unplug myself when the time came.

 Chapter 2

    <h2>Chapter 2</h2>


    Canterbury, England ¨C four days until the Exodus


    I sat in front of the VR hub with my hands clutching the headset and my eyes on Luke, who sat calmly in front of his own. We were in a part of the Mayer building that Luke¡¯s uncle, Carl, told us people didn¡¯t normally go to. It had been a testing room for VR tech so it was fully stocked with meds and IVs and the like, but the building was so freaking huge and this particular testing room was so unused that nobody was likely to come in in the next week. That¡¯s what Carl told us, anyway.


    We had to believe him. Mayer uses a specific type of technology that means the body and consciousness sort of temporarily ¡­ separate. Which means for one thing that you can experience all parts of life through the brain in-game, because it¡¯s an incredible, magical organ, but also that force-unplugging someone who is in-game can have really disastrous effects. There are reports of people who are paralysed afterwards. Completely. I think one guy died from it. It¡¯s scary stuff.


    And I have to admit, it¡¯s one of the reasons I wanted to live alone. No risk of that stuff happening. But here, in the Mayer building, they all know that stuff. So even if someone happens upon my and Luke¡¯s bodies in here, they can¡¯t unplug us or force us to come out. They have to wait until the week is up and we come out voluntarily.


    But being in this separate, secluded room will mean that it is less likely we¡¯ll wake up back in the real world and be in trouble, so that¡¯s something.


    ¡°You guys excited?¡± Carl asked, pacing back and forth and peering at the screens.


    ¡®Spectres & Skin¡¯ hovered in front of me in the air by the hub and I popped on my headset and looked at it closer. It suddenly looked amazing. A three dimensional splash screen depicting the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen in movies or in pictures. It showed a sloping hill dotted with vibrant, exotic flowers. Hyper-realistic trees waved in a silent breeze and in the background a clear blue sea with dots of faraway boats turned into foamy surf on a faraway beach.


    I was going to go there.


    I was going to take my shoes off and plunge my toes into the sand, and feel it again. I could not wait.


    ¡°Uh, you ready?¡± Carl asked. ¡°You sure?¡±


    Luke laughed. ¡°We¡¯re ready, jeez!¡± He leaned back with a grin. ¡°Matt? You ready?¡±


    I lifted the headset, feeling that my cheeks were coloured with excitement. ¡°I¡¯m so ready,¡± I said. ¡°A week in paradise?¡±


    Luke nodded once, looking right at me. ¡°Shall we try to meet up?¡±


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I said.


    Carl lifted a finger and wrinkled his nose. ¡°Actually ¡­ your starting position will be determined by a little quiz. And it¡¯s a good quiz, if I can just toot on my own horn for a second. You¡¯re not the exact same person so you probably won¡¯t end up in the exact same starting place.¡±


    A quiz to determine your starting position? I thought about it, and actually it was a pretty cool idea. I thought back to the scene I¡¯d seen and I couldn¡¯t decide if I¡¯d prefer to be up in the crow¡¯s nest of a huge pirate ship, searching for treasure and dispatching foes, or just ¡­ picking apples in an orchard somewhere.


    Wherever I started off, I was sure I¡¯d find something to enjoy. Something simple


    ¡°It¡¯s like we¡¯re going on vacation,¡± Luke declared. ¡°OK ¡ª is there a landmark we could try to meet at, Carl?¡±


    Carl thought about it. ¡°I mean ¡­ your starting location could be anywhere in the most civilised landmass we have. That¡¯s like if someone asked ¡®where should we meet in Africa? But ¡­ without transportation.¡¯¡±


    ¡°If you had to pick somewhere,¡± Luke pressed.


    ¡°Alright. If you are in the South, get to Dawnspire. Meet outside the spire itself, it¡¯s huge,¡± he said.


    ¡°And the North?¡± I asked.


    Carl grinned at me. ¡°If you¡¯re in the North ¡­ well, you¡¯d want to meet at the castle.¡±


    I nodded at Luke who nodded right back. We had it. It might take us all week to find each other, but at least I would have some sort of direction when I got there, instead of wandering aimlessly. And playing a game like this one with a friend, and with full use of my body, would be a lot of fun. I couldn¡¯t wait, and we were only seconds away.


    ¡°OK. You¡¯re ready, guys?¡± he asked again. ¡°Anything else you need to know?¡±


    ¡°Yes, give us some cheats,¡± I called over, and he pretended to swat the back of my head. ¡°There are no cheats. There is only praying to RNGesus. You might roll well or you might roll badly. That¡¯s the hand you¡¯re dealt. Kinda like real life.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon, Carl, we¡¯re only there for a week. How do we optimise our characters to get the most out of it in a short time?¡± Luke pushed.


    Carl shrugged slightly. ¡°Alright, well, I guess you¡¯re coming back out again, so there¡¯s not much harm in a little something. There¡¯s ¡­ an extra set of questions in the quiz that I programmed in. It was just meant to be for staff working on the project who wanted to go in, for a bit of a boost.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the boost?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    ¡°It¡¯ll depend on your starting faction,¡± he said. ¡°When the game asks you your favourite TV series, tell it ¡®the second season of Firefly¡¯. You¡¯ll unlock extra questions. Answer them honestly. And don¡¯t tell anyone I told you that. Good luck, boys. Try not to die. Hurts like a bitch. And put skill into Stealth. Bye!¡±


    I pulled my headset back over my head and looked at the beautiful landscape. The boats had completely changed position, and so had the clouds. I wondered if it was on a loop or if I was actually looking through a real-time window to one part of the game.


    Now text appeared under the name of the game.


    Spectres & Skin.


    Bryson Mayer was a weird-ass guy for calling his his pet project such a weird-ass name.


    LOG IN


    I reached out and touched it and the haptic glove thudded as I made contact, tricking my brain into thinking there was an actual surface against my finger. I grinned, unable to help myself, knowing that when I was logged in fully it would be sending signals directly to and from my brain itself, not my real life body. It would go straight to the source, and input information in, well, almost exactly the same way that real life did.


    I licked my lips and that was the last I felt of my real body before everything went dark and I was floating. The background noises ¡ª Luke and Carl and the machinery ¡ª was gone, like it had never existed.


    Then there was a room, made out of knotted wood with grass underfoot, and a big tree trunk spiralling up through the centre. Branches jutted out of the trunk but were cut short. On one of the branches sat a creature that looked like a flying squirrel, or maybe a Furby, but a bit less creepy.


    ¡°Hey!¡± it cried.


    Its friendliness immediately lifted my already high spirits. ¡°Hey there!¡± I called back. ¡°Where am I?¡±


    ¡°This is the quiz! I¡¯m called Charon. I¡¯m going to guide you through to the world of Ilyria. For some people the big change can be a little bit jarring!¡± it said. It had a cute voice, but one that would definitely annoy me after a couple of hours ¡­ luckily, it would just be a short personality quiz.


    And then I would go see if I could still cartwheel.


    Other VR had me standing and walking, but I hadn¡¯t felt my lower body like this since the accident. I could feel the temperature ¡ª moderate ¡ªand the weight of my body on my legs, and the cool grass under my feet. It was incredible. Exactly how I had remembered it. Mayer really hadn¡¯t skimped on this game.


    ¡°You ready to get started?¡± it squeaked, tilting its head at me from its branch.


    I smiled up at it. ¡°Sure am.¡±


    ¡°Great! Easy one. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Matt. Matthew Blake.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯d like your character to be called too, Matt?¡±


    It just said my name flawlessly back to me. Amazing. I stepped to the left, and then to the right. Charon¡¯s eyes followed me.


    ¡°Why are you dancing, Matt?¡± it asked. I let out a small laugh. What a cute AI.


    ¡°Yes, my character can be called that too.¡± It was just a week, I didn¡¯t need to fuss around with creating a name ¡­ like Vlad the Destroyer. Or Destructo. Destracula. Des ¡­ never mind. Matt was fine.


    ¡°What¡¯s your favourite city on Earth?¡± it asked, readjusting itself so that its tail curled comfortably around its fluffy brown and white body.


    Easy. ¡°London.¡± I went to university in Canterbury, which was gorgeous, but London was where I grew up, and I had a lot of affection for the place, despite its flaws. And the fact that the pollution was at the point where oxygen masks didn¡¯t cut it; you had to protect your eyes as well. And skin, for long periods of time outside.


    But I had seen what it used to look like in TV shows and it was really beautiful and distinctive. I was confident with my answer.


    ¡°That¡¯s a great answer, Matt,¡± it praised, and I found myself laughing again.


    ¡°Thank you, Charon. Would you have said that no matter what I answered?¡±


    I didn¡¯t expect it to have an answer ready for this kind of statement, but the programmers were clearly ahead of the curve. Charon tilted its head the other way before it responded. ¡°Actually ¡­ yeah! You¡¯re right, I would have!¡±


    I wasn¡¯t even in the game yet and I was having a pretty great time already.


    ¡°What is your favourite Earth cuisine?¡±


    Hmm. ¡°Italian, probably,¡± I said.


    ¡°Pizza and spaghetti? Forgeddaboudit!¡± the creature said in a silly Italian accent. Who had programmed this little thing? Carl? Charon was such a random feature to have. It could have just been floating white text on a black backdrop but this whole interaction added so much and hinted at what was to come.


    ¡°In a crowd, do you like to stand out? Or blend in?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but think about the metagame. Was this going to lead to my class? Almost definitely. I was sure a hack and slash character would answer the first way, and a sneaky archer might answer the second way. I had literally no idea which kind of character I wanted to be, though, so I just answered truthfully.


    ¡°I like to stand out if it¡¯s positive, Charon,¡± I said. ¡°If it¡¯s negative attention, I¡¯d really rather not be seen at all.¡± I knew it would be too complicated for the game, but I wanted to know what other phrases they had programmed the little squirrel-imp to say to me.


    ¡°Oh, Matt, that¡¯s pretty understandable,¡± it said. ¡°I¡¯m not a fan of negative attention either. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re alone in that. OK, next question.¡±


    I raised my eyebrows. ¡°Wait, hang on, you don¡¯t ¡­ just speak in stock phrases?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a stock-phrase?¡±


    That was a fairly normal thing to programme in for if the AI didn¡¯t have an answer for a question, but something about its cadence made me wonder.


    ¡°A stock phrase is something a programmer asked you say to respond to me, and you can¡¯t say anything else.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the creators? I wouldn¡¯t talk about the creators when you get into the main game, Matt, only I know about them, after all. And they didn¡¯t programme stock-phrases into me. They just sorta made me talk! And I love talking!¡±


    I was taken aback. I had thought it was an advanced AI, but I hadn¡¯t realised how advanced. It could just ¡­ hold a conversation?


    ¡°Are all NPCs like you?¡±


    ¡°Again, don¡¯t say words like ¡®NPC¡¯ in the game, OK? They won¡¯t know what you mean. And yeah, they can all talk to you like people talk to each other. The creators called it OI, instead of AI. It¡¯s Organic Intelligence! Isn¡¯t that cool? I don¡¯t know what it means.¡±


    I blinked a couple of times.


    ¡°Next question is: what¡¯s your favourite animal?¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°Dog,¡± I answered quickly.


    ¡°Quickfire! I like it! What is your dream career?¡±


    I thought about it. ¡°Programmer, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been told they¡¯re great people!¡± I laughed again. ¡°If you found a wallet on the street with a loooaaad of money in it, and the address to return it was right across the street, what would you do? Be honest, now!¡±


    I thought about it honestly. ¡°Yeah ¡­ I¡¯d return it.¡±


    ¡°With the money?¡±


    I looked down at my feet in the grass. ¡°Man, I don¡¯t know. If it was a little, then I don¡¯t think so. But if it was a lot ¡­ maybe I wouldn¡¯t be able to resist.¡±


    ¡°Cool, Matt, it¡¯s great chatting with you. A couple more. What¡¯s your favourite weather?¡±


    ¡°Mild, warm, sunny?¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s your favourite season of TV?¡±


    I swallowed. ¡°The ¡­ second season of Firefly?¡±


    Charon blinked its huge eyes at me and was a bit taken aback. ¡°For real?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how to answer that. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s pretty interesting is all. Hey, one more thing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°You must be powerful and wrong, or weak and ethical.¡±


    I waited. ¡°Charon?¡± I prompted, but the creature was looking off into the distance. I clicked my fingers, and it looked back at me. ¡°What¡¯s the question? Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± it said. ¡°Do you pick one?¡±


    Powerful and wrong, or weak and ethical. ¡°Do I have the opportunity to become strong if I start weak?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh, pretty good answer,¡± it chirped. ¡°OK, you¡¯re ready to go to Ilyria! I think you should start off in the South.¡±


    The South. All I had to do was make my way to some spire and maybe Luke would be there too? This game was already pretty exciting, and I couldn¡¯t wait to play through it in a small party. We could choose to complement each other¡¯s play styles and we¡¯d probably advance faster. And time was of the essence if we wanted to see as much of the game as we possibly could over a week.


    A week. It already felt so short.


    ¡°The stretch of verdant lowlands in the South of Ilyria is called the Veldt. The capital is Dawnspire. The rest is up to you to figure out. You can log out at any time during your first week, and there will be a timer telling you when your time is about to run out. If you miss it, you¡¯re a lifer! Any questions?¡±


    I struggled to think of any specific questions. ¡°Is ¡­ fighting and levelling up kinda self-explanatory?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry about a thing, Matthew Blake!¡± Charon sang. ¡°I can already tell you¡¯ll do great!¡±


    The chirpy voice faded as the world turned black again, and I already missed the creature a little. The world was going to be a huge and intimidating place until I got a couple of levels under my belt, I was pretty sure about that. Especially since there were multiple starting areas. The enemies would be pretty varied.


    Then the blackness faded and I heard a chorus of birdsong as bright green plantlife and pink flowers slowly came into focus, right in front of my face.


    It was already all so beautiful.


    How could a false reality be so much more perfect than the reality I had known my whole life? Every other VR programme I¡¯d run through was not a patch on this, already, and all I could see now was a collection of bushes.


    But the way everything moved. The breeze calling up goosebumps on my flesh. None of it seemed in any way fake.


    I could already tell that waking up back in that anteroom in the Mayer building was going to be a shock to my system. Can one be disappointed to death?


    I realised quickly that I was sitting in a half-crab position, with my palms behind my butt, splayed onto the cool grass. I picked up a green blade and rolled it between my fingers, feeling the sensation of its damp freshness. The grass on Earth was crisp and dull-coloured. I felt tears threaten to spring to my eyes. Even the single greatest experience I had had to date ¡ª The Afterlife ¡ª had nothing on this, and I hadn¡¯t even started yet.


    I got to my feet and looked around. I was in the capital of the South, Charon had said. I wiped my damp hands on my sackcloth trousers and began to walk. The sensation was unusual, stilted, at first ¡ª unlike my experiences in other VR, where I could move my avatar around but couldn¡¯t feel anything I couldn¡¯t feel in real life ¡ª but then muscle memory kicked in from the years before my accident, and I was strolling around the sunny, green landscape like a pro.


    To my back was a spread of carefully manicured bushes and flowers, and to the right was a smattering of saplings with manure heaped around the growing trunks. I could smell it. It smelled disgusting. It was so real!


    From behind me was a sudden harsh, throaty growl, and I barely had time to spin around on my feet when a scrawny canine shape launched itself from the trees and aimed itself right at my throat. I held out my arms and managed to create enough distance to stop the attacking creature from latching its slavering jaws around my flesh, protected by the sparsest of clothing, and then brought my knee up to slam fully into its jaw.


    The wolf ¡ª at least, that¡¯s what it kind of was; small and wild-eyed and missing patches of copper fur ¡ª fell to the ground, but then with a wet throaty cry launched at me once again. This time I was just about ready, having done more than my fair share of combat in The Afterlife, though barely ever without a weapon, and I pivoted and slammed my foot into its ribcage. It cried out, a pitiable yelp that made me wary about other wolves nearby approaching to investigate.


    ¡°Shush!¡± I hissed. ¡°Good wolf. Be quiet.¡±


    It tilted back its head and let out a baneful howl.


    ¡°Uncool,¡± I told it, and took a couple of careful steps back to eye it up.


    The creature was so real, I couldn¡¯t fault a single aspect of its design for anything. The way that it favoured the legs on the side that I hadn¡¯t kicked it on, and worked its jaw as if feeling real pain. I spotted a large rock nearby and knew that I could put it out of its misery, but I had a peculiar feeling, especially being in a virtual world: I didn¡¯t really want to end its ¡®life¡¯.


    The only indication that this wasn¡¯t the world I was used to was the red health bar hovering above its head, already at just below half. I guessed that it probably hadn¡¯t been fully healthy when it had approached me.


    But it had no problem ending my life. When it had recovered from the kick, it aimed for my ankle and clamped down hard before I could move, and I screamed. I saw a faint flash of crimson and the red bar in the top left had a chunk of about 20% knocked out of it instantly. That meant I could only take four more bites before I was done for. Luckily no status condition cropped up, so it perhaps wasn¡¯t as diseased as it looked.


    I fumbled for the rock, groaning through my teeth at the agonising pain. The very real, very awful pain. I could feel the detail of every one of its wet needle teeth piercing my skin, and it should have been one of the most unpleasant feelings I had ever experienced, but ¡­ it wasn¡¯t. All I could really think about was the fact that I could feel my leg so vividly. I could feel all of me. Being here, among the plants and the air I could breathe without getting hazy, feeling real pain in my body ¡­ it was like I was finally awake.


    The rock was jagged and cool in my hand and I winced and half squinted as I lifted it up and brought it down on the back of the wolf¡¯s head just as it released my leg. There was a horrible yelp, and the hit point bar hovering above it dropped from 40% to zero.


    You have discovered a hidden skill!


    Improvised Combat: What, swords and shields just don¡¯t cut it for you? I guess a win doesn¡¯t count as a win unless you carry out a coup de grace with a potted plant, right? So quirky.


    Related Attribute: WIS


    You have defeated Scrawny Wolf (Level 2)


    You have gained 15 EXP!


    I stood, and gathered myself for a moment. The pain was really intense, and the novelty of being able to feel below the waist was now rapidly wearing away. I needed to find some light healing item or it would take me a while to walk anywhere with this injury. At least I appeared to have gained some kind of skill, though it ¡­ definitely didn¡¯t look like one that I would be rewarded by the game for levelling up.


    After a five minute walk towards some farmhouses, I spotted my first human in the game and quickened my pace as best I could.


    An NPC woman was crouching nearby and tending to some weeds by a patch of flowers, and I walked over, clearing my throat along the way.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I asked. The woman looked up at me with big, shiny brown eyes. Her long dark hair was wrapped in a cloth and she was wearing dirty, sparse clothing. She dipped her head slightly at me as I approached, in what seemed like a sign of respect, and instinctively I returned it, which seemed to unsettle her. ¡°Could you tell me exactly where I am?¡±


    ¡°Brother?¡± she asked, her eyebrow twitching. I frowned deeply at her. I was someone¡¯s brother in this game? That would be ¡­ interesting, I supposed?


    ¡°I¡¯m your brother?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    Her eyes glittered momentarily as she tried not to laugh, but then she threw back her head and laughed. ¡°No, you are not my brother. From the symbol around your neck I thought you were a Brother of the Collective. Are you not? Are you a thief?¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I traced a hand down from my neck to my chest and felt the cold hardness of a bronze pendant, which I fished out and peered at. It was a fair-sized circle, and the top half was a half-circle disappearing upwards, with a peak underneath breaking through it. I squinted at it for a moment, and then I realised that I knew nothing about my own character.


    Rookie mistake.


    The personality quiz was supposed to have decided the basics about the character I¡¯d start off with ¡ª the skills I was more likely to lean towards and the play style I might want to try. Right? I wasn¡¯t sure how the questions I¡¯d answered were going to work to achieve that, but if I trusted anyone to provide a good gaming experience, it was Bryson Mayer.


    ¡°Sorry, excuse me for a moment,¡± I said, and stepped away again. Amused, the NPC (Charon was right: the word really didn¡¯t seem respectful or appropriate when it came to this woman ¡­ and presumably all of the other characters in this astonishing new world) smiled and shook her head, going back to the weeding.


    I knew the most likely command since I had spent an inordinate amount of time playing Mayer¡¯s last game, so when I wanted to bring up my character sheet I just concentrated briefly and swiped my hand through the air where I wanted it to appear.


    A hovering screen flickered quickly into view and I was glad I hadn¡¯t fumbled for long, since I¡¯d played a similar game before. This game really didn¡¯t give much help to people, did it? Or maybe it had, and I¡¯d just skipped past it without even noticing?


    Name: Matthew Blake ¡ª Level: 1 ¡ª Progression: 15%


    Race: Human ¡ª Specialization: None


    Faction: Dawnspire Collective ¡ª Rank: Acolyte


    STR: 12


    DEX: 10


    INT: 8


    WIS: 5


    FORT: 9


    CHA: 9


    Atk: 6 (+0) ¡ª Def: 5 (+0)


    Alliances:


    Dawnspire Collective ¡ª Friendly


    Extras:


    None


    Skills:


    None


    Abilities:


    None


    Yeah. OK. I wasn¡¯t afraid to admit it: I had no idea what an Acolyte was. But it was what I was, apparently, so I¡¯d have to find out some time. Who was the Dawnspire Collective? I concentrated hard on the text to see if something else would come up, but it didn¡¯t seem to be clickable. My best guess was that the world here altered and changed so much, for the programmers to add in text information for each new person or faction as it grew and changed would take literally forever.


    I couldn¡¯t log out to search the web for terms or for guides, because I wouldn¡¯t be able to log back in ¡­ ever. And I wasn¡¯t willing to give up this experience for anything; not until I absolutely had to go home, anyway.


    I returned to the young woman kneeling in the dirt and I knelt beside her. I couldn¡¯t explain to her that it seemed like, yes, I was a part of something called the ¡®Dawnspire Collective¡¯ ¡ª which honestly sounded a little ominous to me ¡ª but actually I had no idea what it was or my role in it.


    This game really would never be accused of handholding, that was for damn sure.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said, and she looked up at me with a funny smile and then looked back down at the dirt.


    ¡°Are you quite alright, Brother?¡± she asked, but her voice was a little strained, as if she was uncomfortable talking to me at all ¡ª so then why wasn¡¯t she telling me to fuck off? Was I trespassing or was she just having a bad day?


    ¡°I¡¯m¡ª¡± I looked around. The sky was a clear blue with just a few fluffy white clouds gliding slowly across. The smell of her gardening was sweet and earthy and alien but ¡­ it awakened something primal inside me. It was as if I knew that the world was supposed to be like this. I couldn¡¯t quite put exactly how I felt into words, so I just smiled. ¡°Apart from this wolf bite, I¡¯m doing pretty great.¡±


    Her gaze trailed down my body to the bloody tooth marks on my ankle and she wrinkled her nose. ¡°Here,¡± she said, and stood to hand me a bandage from the little pack beside her. I didn¡¯t want to accept at first, but she looked alarmed when I waved it away, so I took it.


    I bent down and tied it tightly around my ankle.


    You have discovered a hidden skill!


    First Aid: Don¡¯t trust doctors? Grab your trusty herbs and bandages and tie a comrade, or yourself, back together after a tricky combat encounter.


    Related Attribute: INT


    Oh, cool! Good to see that something useful may have actually come from that unfortunate encounter with the wolf earlier. It had been pretty unlucky of me to spawn right next to a hostile enemy in the first place, but what else was new? I¡¯d pretty much always been the unluckiest person I knew.


    I rolled my ankle and grinned, watching as my health bar slid up closer to 100% ¡ª stopping at 90. ¡°That¡¯s so much better, thank you,¡± I said. Were all characters as helpful as her? This game was going to be a cinch if so.


    ¡°Glad to hear it,¡± she said. ¡°Is there anything else I can do for you?¡± She still wasn¡¯t really looking up at me, just spreading fertilisers, or something, around the bed of new trees.


    ¡°Are you safe here? There are wolves,¡± I pointed out. She gestured to her pack beside her without saying anything, and I could only assume that she had some good weapons, or something, inside there. ¡°Could you just point me in the direction of the spire?¡± I asked. ¡°I am new here and I¡¯m just kinda turned around.¡±


    She peered up at me like I was trying to test her, but hopefully saw the genuineness on my face. She gestured behind me, and I turned. ¡°It¡¯s that ¡­ big spire over there.¡±


    Just beyond the little patch of farmland, and beyond the rickety homestead that I assumed this woman lived in, was ¡­ yeah, a towering spire. I could see it now. It was one of the largest things I had ever seen. Probably, I realised getting to my feet, no bigger than a skyscraper, but when nothing around here stretched taller than a tree ¡­ the spire was noticeable.


    More than that: it was intimidating.


    I took a few steps so that I could see past the farmhouse and folded my arms across my chest as a cooling breeze rippled across my skin, and chilled me as if my sackcloth wasn¡¯t even there. The city gates surrounding the spire came into view, and for a moment I wondered if I would have any trouble breaching the gates as a newcomer, but then I recalled that I was one of the people that lived there. Presuming that this Dawnspire Collective operated out of Dawnspire itself.


    I considered for a moment asking the woman still kneeling nearby if she would clear up a few things for me, like who my people were and where their headquarters were, but she didn¡¯t seem to like interacting with me, particularly.


    Instead I thanked her and she gave me a cursory nod, and I took off in the direction of the spire.


    I hoped idly that Luke had spawned somewhere nearby. We were similar people, after all, so maybe he had answered the questions similarly? Hopefully he wasn¡¯t in the North, anyway. Then there was literally zero chance I was going to find him during this short week, and it would be fun to play a little together when we had so little time here.


    It occurred to me as I crossed the beautiful arable land towards the thick, tall walls of Dawnspire that maybe I should try to level up a little before I got into the city, because maybe Luke would be waiting there after all ¡ª and knowing his incredible luck, he¡¯d already be at level 40 and have a harem of beautiful local women following after him and giggling.


    I looked down at myself, tugging on the coarse, loose-fitting clothing the game had given me, and glanced around momentarily before I pushed my shirt up. Yes. The game had selected my usual avatar: the one I used in every other VR experience. I was stocky and built and my body made me look like the kind of dude who spent all his time working on it. I did not have a problem with this.


    When I got to the gates of the capital city, a guard jerked his head towards me from a watchtower by way of greeting.


    ¡°Acolyte,¡± he said.


    I nodded back up at him, though it hadn¡¯t seemed to be a question. With a groan and scrape, the gates slid open in front of me, and I took in one last look of the gorgeous landscape behind me: the bright green grass bent by the breeze; the tall swaying trees, and then turned around again when the gates finished their journey.


    At that moment, I felt totally ready for anything.


    <h2></h2>