I swung the spear in the large empty room. I was standing on a leather mat now. The character creation menus had disappeared along with my double. It was just me and my weapon now.

It felt unfamiliar in my hands, but not ungainly. I could spin it in my hand without dropping it about half the time, which was probably a fat lot better than I could pull off in real life.

"Do I have some skill in spear handling now?"

"You noticed that," said Saint Peter. "You do, but it's just a base amount."

I thrust the tip forward. I did it again and added a hop for effect. "Will I get better with practice?"

"Only incrementally. This is an MMORPG after all. There are basic expertises that you become versed in through practice, things like building a campfire and pitching a tent. These are called proficiencies. They're about competency rather than resources."

I nodded. "And skills?"

"True skills are varied and class dependent. Your weapon use is a skill, which means it mostly improves through the expenditure of skill points. It's straightforward that way. You gain experience, you level, you receive new skills points and spend them. When you begin the tutorial, you'll have the option of selecting two other starting skills. We don't force you to pick them off the bat, in case you wanted to play around and learn about the environment first."

"Makes sense, but... tutorial?"

Saint Peter smiled patiently. "Of course."

"You're not gonna start me off in some lame RPG school that gets attacked by airships, are you?"

Saint Peter didn't answer.

I sighed. "Will it involve combat?"

"Of course."

I stopped swinging the spear like a jackass. "Um... will it... hurt?"

"What kind of Heaven would have pain?" Saint Peter leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "Listen, as far as sims go, pain is a real brain response. But when you're talking about conducive online environments, focus testing indicates pain isn't an asset. You can take damage, lose abilities and such, but you won't feel intense pain. Instead you'll get real-time notifications of your status as it changes. What is pain, after all, if not the body's status system?"

"So if I get stabbed?"

"You'll feel a watered-down representation of pain and take some damage. If there's blood there won't be a wound unless it's a more critical blow. Most of it is in place to support the idea of damage, to represent it to others. It's a game, of course, so you can always be fully healed."

"Cool," I said. "That doesn't sound too bad. I guess I'm ready to kick ass then."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Not just yet. You have one last detail to take care of." He gestured to the new screen that appeared before me.

       Name: _

The blinking cursor waited for my input. I smiled. This was the easy part. I always picked the same name. Not Tad, not Lonnerman, but a combination of the first few letters of each name. I voiced my input.

"Talon."

The prompt flashed in confirmation and disappeared.

Saint Peter nodded. "You're lucky. We just had a universal wipe and reboot. Everyone's level 1. You'll come out of the gate on the same footing as everybody else."

I paused. I kinda forgot there'd be other people to deal with. Even if they had their levels reset, they were familiar with the game. I'd still be the noob.

"Don't worry," he said, sensing my unease. "You'll do fine. It's a big world out there, but my job is to accustom you to it. Remember what I said. Take it in slowly. Over time. Haven's not the type of game that comes with a rulebook. Focus testing indicates it's better to keep the initial choices simple and let residents ease into the rest. You'll learn about skills and enemies and all that good stuff organically. And, if you ever find yourself in absolute need of guidance, just press that giant green help button up there."

I followed his signal and two large buttons appeared in the sky. One was green with a question mark and the other was red with a spider icon.

"Help will summon me," said Peter. "Use it wisely because you won't have access to me forever. The red button is how you file bugs."

"Bugs?"

"Don't be daft. This is a beta test and you're a developer. You're expected to report any bugs you encounter in detail. Such is the price of admission."

"Easy enough."

The thought of being immersed in a buggy simulation could've been disquieting, but the knowledge had the opposite effect on me. Like he said, I was a programmer. This world wasn't magic. It was a set of logical instructions to simulate an environment. The fact that bugs existed supported the idea that the system wasn't all-powerful. It normalized the whole thing to view it as a game. As something familiar.

"It should be easy, yes," said Saint Peter. He picked up his tablet and typed in some commands. "Our A/B tests indicate easing residents into the simulation results in a smoother transition rather than throwing them into the fire. Turns out that could be traumatic."

A/B testing is developer jargon that means testing multiple alternatives at once and comparing the results. Does scenario A play out better than B or vice versa? It's a great way to find superior processes quickly.

"Why would you ever think it's a good idea to throw someone into the fire after telling them they died?"

Saint Peter shrugged. "There was a theory that the postmortem mind should be kept busy."

I hefted my spear over my shoulder. "Yeah, well, sign me up for the smooth transition."

"Oh." Saint Peter's face darkened as he referred to his tablet. "Unfortunately, our A/B testing is still technically ongoing and open for trial, and despite the overwhelming evidence that says you'd be better off easing into your new home, we can't slant our conclusions based on early evidence."

I crinkled my brow. "What are saying, Pete?"

"You're in the B group."

I blinked. "What? The traumatic inferno?"

"Well said. Thanks for being a good sport about this."

"Whoa, now. If it's one thing I'm not, it's a good sport."

I tried protesting more, but all the whiteness in the world began to fade to black.

"Oh, one more thing," said Peter. "During the opening tutorial, and for the purposes of gathering play-test data, that giant green help button will be disabled."

"What?"

"We need to gauge your ability to learn and adapt organically. We don't want a clunky game, after all."

"But what do I do to avoid the serious trauma?" I asked desperately.

The world completely blackened as his disembodied voice answered.

"Don't worry about a thing. We've analyzed every detail of your background and employment history. You have a logical thought process. In a way, you could say this tutorial is perfectly tailored just to you, Tod."

"It's—"

And then the world was gone.