Around a table in a fast-food outlet in a certain city on Earth, a conversation was taking place. The people involved weren't special, nor was the conversation unique. Rather, thousands of similar instances were taking place throughout the city and beyond.

"I gained a level yesterday. Got it from cooking dinner," commented a voice before biting into a burger.

"Oh? Any effect?" asked a second.

"Nope. Just like everyone else, I gained a soul point, but no change to my stats. Can't spend it, because it complains about my soul being in flux."

"Pah. Souls don't really exist," complained a third voice, slightly muffled by the way it had to squeeze its way out through a mouthful of chips.

"A couple of months ago, I'd have said the same about dragons."

"Dragons don't exist either. This is all a government conspiracy. They're using us as research subjects for some sort of inhumane experiment."

"If you think you're part of an inhumane experiment, why are you still here? It's not like the city is quarantined."

"Well, they say that, but I bet that if I tried, I'd be dead from 'natural causes' within the hour."

The first voice emitted a sigh. Normally, it would berate the third for getting embroiled in yet another stupid conspiracy theory, but this was one case where the alleged reality was tougher to believe than any fiction. A group of researchers, attempting to develop a new renewable energy source, had accidentally opened a portal to another world? And some planetary-scale computer in that other world had burrowed back through the portal and started messing around with Earth? Who the heck would believe that? The only reason the first voice believed it was because if the government was going to lie, they'd surely have come out with something more plausible.

"What I don't understand," said a fourth voice, waving around a coffee like some sort of conductor's baton, "is how they were holding talks with the other side. I mean, this [Language: Common] skill we all have must be the language they speak over there, but we can hardly hold a conversation in it. Do you think someone on that side bought the [Language: English] skill and it let them magically speak English?"

"Not at level one, it wouldn't."

"Who's to say they follow the same rules as us?"

"The place that was doing the research has been open since before I moved to the city. Fifty years, their website said. They've probably been travelling back and forth between worlds for ages. Plenty of time to learn each other's languages."

"Yeah, maybe it's not our government doing the inhumane experiments," said the second voice, pointing a chip at the third. "Maybe they're letting that side experiment on us in exchange for something."

"What I want to know is when my soul will stop being in flux. I want to see what's in the skill shop. We have a mana stat, even if everyone's is zero. That means magic!"

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That voice was not the only one wanting to know what was in the skill shop. In rather more upmarket locations, with a far lower quota of chips but an even higher coffee content, voices wrapped in expensive suits complained about how one country didn't have the right to unilaterally engage in diplomacy with an alien world, and loudly demanded that all previous recordings and transcripts should be shared, while pointing out that they were the obvious choice for continuing the research, for reasons of budget, logistics, or having the biggest guns and threatening to shoot anyone who didn't agree.

Religious figures got red-faced as they showered TV cameras with spittle ranting about this new proof that souls existed. Gamers posted strategy guides about how best to raise attributes. Edgy teenagers moaned about how their city wasn't the one chosen for such a cool experiment, and filled the internet with their hopes of randomly getting transported to that other world, which was obviously so much cooler than this one. Celebrity scientists tried to guess what had happened, and how the new status interface worked.

And on an unpopulated island in the pacific ocean, at least a hundred miles away from any human settlement, a group watched a radar display, which showed numerous dots.

"Shipping here is too dense. There will never be a point where there isn't a vessel within a hundred miles of us."

"Shipping anywhere is too dense, unless you want to set up in the middle of Antarctica."

"I don't want to set up at all! It's far too risky to open another portal."

"It's risky, yes, but the rewards..."

Everyone present turned to look at a whiteboard, on which a photo of a glowing white orb was stuck in a corner. Some graphs were drawn beneath it. The numbers on one axis were followed by lots of zeroes, and even more exclamation marks.

"We don't need a permanently open portal; we just need a supply of those monster cores. Once we get going, each portal will need to be open for ten seconds at most as we each toss goods through."

"This is still a bad idea. What are we going to do about the ships? The first crew that gets dinged is going to give away what we're doing."

"Simple—we're not going to hide. An internationally agreed exclusion zone is being set up around this island."

"... And what's that going to cost us?"

"... All further negotiations will be the responsibility of an international committee. We don't get any special dispensation, other than you having an honorary position on the negotiating team. I think the hope is that Peter, and the dragons who seem to be in charge over there, will be more favourably disposed to us than to the rest of the team, who they don't know."

Dr Harry Withermark sighed. "Really? A committee, an international committee, and you talk about the portals being open for ten seconds each? They'll debate for weeks just to decide who stands where in front of the portal. And even that much will probably involve a skirmish or two, if not a full war. And why the heck am I on it? Surely that's your job!"

"Alas, I'm on it too," sighed Gregory Charles, who had now been officially appointed the minister of extraterrestrial affairs. "I'm our government's official representative. Your place is an extra, in recognition of your role in making contact possible. But keeping a portal open for the full duration of negotiations is the one part that's not going to be a problem."

"Huh? How so?"

"I've been informed that with some preparation and extra equipment, a modified hazmat suit can be kept sealed for a few days. Congratulations. As recognition of your achievements in interdimensional transportation, you'll get to be the first human to deliberately set foot on an inhabited alien world."

Dr Withermark, being a rather intelligent man, took all of three seconds to work out what sort of 'preparations' might be involved when forgoing access to such things as toilets and external food sources for multiple days.

"I don't suppose I can turn down that honour?"

Gregory smiled the predatory smile of someone who was absolutely determined to spread his pain and suffering as widely as possible.

"I'll assume that's a no, then."