Morgan carefully rested his weight on the old sink and looked into the bathroom mirror. He was looking so very haggard now. Pale skin and lank black hair, dark bags under milky hazel eyes. He was getting visibly worse by the month.

The unnamed ailment had really started to impact him severely in the last year. It had started out with a loss of energy; barely being able to drag himself out of bed. Then, his mind started slipping, depression and anxiety had hit him in full force on a miserable day in January and had been constant companions ever since.

Then, a stream of muscle cramps, which washed him out of his warehouse supervisor job. He was so tired all the time, tired of his body failing and no answers as to why. He was a district six kid; his highest aspirations were to be a supervisor at a warehouse or factory, and now he couldn’t even do that. At least he now had a way forward, as strange as that way was.

To be placed into a game. He'd never really gotten into gaming, immersive or otherwise, preferring to go out and drink with friends when he was younger. Later, as the years passed and the sickness within him grew making him lethargic and sore, he tried in earnest but couldn't find the concentration for it and after a few efforts largely gave up.

Moon, the family's dog, a handsome black Labrador, nudged the bathroom door open, as if to summon him. Letting out a deep sigh, he splashed some water on his face and prepared to head downstairs to dinner.

They'd pored over the documents provided by Dr Nolen and Eleos as soon as they got back, test reports and pamphlets covering the dining table. Nestled amongst them was a contract, stipulating Morgan's conditional access into the game, and attached to the contract, a cover letter.

What the contract seemed to boil down to was in return for using the capsule, he had to not only play the game, but was effectively employed in-game by Eleos; though the specifics of that employment were ambiguous. They would have all rights to the data from his capsule, and his clinical data for up to ten years after. The minimum contract length was for a year, which according to Dad, who had been recently in touch with the research team who were working on his case, should be enough for them to at least finish their work on stopping the spread of this disease through his body.

Dad then told them the rough story of the company as he knew it. Apparently, Eleos had been set up two decades before by a philanthropist named Earnest Stubbs, a working-class man living in a cramped tenement that today would be part of district seven, who had worked his way up the corporate ladder in telecommunications. He then used that salary to invest, mainly in up-and-coming companies the tech sector. His investments had almost all worked out very much in his favour, again and again, making him obscenely wealthy.

Earnest then turned to founding his own businesses, deciding to put his vast fortune to good use. Obsessed with technology, he managed to gather some of the world greatest minds to create Eleos, to which he acted as patron. The company had been working on both the immersive virtual reality and the capsule technology since its inception, alongside countless other innovations, both minor and major.

They sat down to a meal of jacket potatoes and started to discuss what they thought it all meant.

"Of course, they'll want your capsule data; you'll be amongst the first people to be..." His Dad paused to find the right word, "Encapsulated for a whole year. And when you come out the other side alive and well that'll be reassuring for everyone else who wants to give it a try. Did you see the report in there about the six-month trials? Two out of a thousand had to finish early due to some 'technical problems' and seven backed out of the program due to 'unforeseen schedule conflicts'"

"They probably got scared" interjected Claire.

"They probably got scared" repeated Dad. "The other nine-hundred-and-ninety-one came out just fine, and if the reports are to be believed, in all cases their aging had slowed dramatically, though by varying amounts. A handful of participants came out far healthier than they went in by the looks of it."

Morgan decided to chime in "It didn't say much about the actual game. I've had a look online and there isn't a lot of information there either, even though the game has been out a year, it's like they're hiding something."

"Of course they're hiding something, I heard that discussing the games mechanics will get you banned." Said Claire. "Didn't you catch all the ruckus when it first launched? Two of the major game critics and an entire streaming content company got lifetime bans and fines for posting media containing what amounts to spoilers. I heard that one of them was super gory. And that's just the really high-profile cases."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "So, everyone who goes into this goes in blind? I got to say, I respect that."

Claire laughed "Yeah, because you're too lazy to do any research anyway."

"Not lazy, I've just always approached gaming with a suitable lack of commitment; for what is supposed to be a relaxing pastime" Morgan tried to defend himself.

"Yeah whatever, your school coursework begged to differ." She grinned at him.

"Are you sure you're comfortable going through with this Morgan?" Asked Mum.

He took a piece of cheese from his plate and snuck it under the table to Moon as he replied.

"I really don't see much choice if I want to see what Christmas is going to look like in a couple of years' time. And I'll be in a game - a game! Sounds like it could even be fun, even if I will be technically an employee. Maybe I can get weekends off to slay baddies or something." He said to her before Dad re-joined the conversation.

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"The employment details are a bit hazy. 'You must perform the monthly tasks and objectives set for you by Eleos. Failure to complete these tasks and objectives may lead to termination of this contract.' he recited from one of the many sheets that covered the table. "They don't specify, or even allude to what the 'tasks and objectives' may be. We just have to hope that they're reasonable requests, I suppose."

"Again," Morgan said "I don't really feel like I've got an option. The big hand of the corporation has decided to scoop me up and look after me. A blessing from our benevolent overlords to keep me 'in the game' if you'll pardon the expression, as their indentured servant" he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Claire looked him up and down. "Well, servant or not, I'm excited about this. Despite the signs to the contrary, I do quite enjoy having you around. If you've got to earn your keep, then so be it. At least we get to keep you in the long term."

He looked around at his family. "I'll get to keep in contact with you all, even if I won't be able to visit for some time." Mum caught his gaze.

"You know we're here for you, and we'll support you in any way we can. We'll call the surgery tomorrow, if you feel it's the right thing to do. Now everyone, it's time for bed."

The surgery was called, and a date set up in two days' time for Morgan to be sent to the Lab in the third district, for what was ominously referred to as 'processing'. Morgan, and Claire when she got out of college, spent those couple of days hunting down any information they could about Oneiroi. Everything that came up in searches were promotional videos released and obviously heavily edited by Eleos.

Montages of men and women of varied in-game races training, travelling and fighting on their way from rags to riches, zero to hero. A dashing young man in plain, homespun attire. A sequence of training with soldiers, the man's armour becoming progressively heavier, his jaw more chiselled. Our new soldier in lockstep with his comrades, marching towards a dark plume of smoke at the end of the road. Heavily cut flashes of battle in a burning village against a green skinned foe; our hero and his shining sword, striking foes and saving friends. The man in his dashing armour kneeling before a throne in a vast cathedral of a room, getting up and rising to his feet to the cacophonous sound of applause.

There were clips of heavily cut group battles, with players versus beasts, or players against other players. A sequence showing a dwarven craftsman creating a wonderous heavy spear. Videos showcasing sprawling landscapes, massive cities, mountain ranges and vast deserts. It seemed like the company, while showing off the realistic fantasy splendour of their game, was not only trying to hide the mechanics of the game but also hide the blood and viscera that the modern technology was capable of imitating.

All the footage was eerily realistic, and details such as the dust kicked up as parties travelled and fought, a squall turning the ground into a muddy mess with those travelling hooves and boots covered in muck, the sunbeams piercing the forests canopy and glinting from the iron hub of the wagons wheel, this all made it seem like a camera crew had shot it all live, magic, goblins and all.

Although the details on mechanics were vague, the pair could work out a little more about what Morgan could expect. A magic system was evidenced by bolts of lightning and ice coming from players, so elemental magic was in. A mage that surrounded himself with a shimmering translucent blue barrier, hinting at a mana shield and the arcane. In one scene, a player in gold lined heavy armour chanted as he drove his longsword into the earth beneath him, while a huge wolf armoured in the same style took blows from a massive troll. As a green energy sprang up from the ground around the sword, the wolf glowed brightly and the wounds on its head and flanks started to heal. That was healing for sure and probably some kind of pet system.

Another clip showcased a party of a dozen adventurers, one casting spells to speed them as they raced along an ancient looking cobbled road, heading to a gloomy and abandoned looking temple at the end of the track. The party was shown ascending the front steps of the temple, moving slowly and with great caution, before a horde of undead emerged from the wide entrances.

The temple looked like a dungeon, or an instance - places to go to fight the environment and monsters in it for chances of great treasure. There were player versus player fights shown, but with no context at all; who knew in the videos who fought for what - but everybody involved looked the grand hero as they laughed and bashed and bled and raged at each other. There seemed to be two main factions, which for all the information provided may as well as have been red versus blue.

The clips left most things vague, but alongside the magic there were plenty of insinuated analogues to modern gaming. Magic to damage and heal, to buff and debuff. Stealth skills were alluded to, and from the sight of a small elf withdrawing a bardiche longer than she was from a bag, Morgan knew the inventory system was going to be interesting.

The pair discussed at length what type of character Morgan should choose should he get the opportunity. Morgan himself thought a dextrous melee type fighter would be just his speed - before the illness had started laying waste to him, he'd been athletic enough. He'd in fact entered and placed respectably highly in a fencing competition at high school, though he wasn’t sure how good he’d be now.

He wasn't big or beefy enough to feel like he qualified to be a heavy, and although magic seemed like a compelling option, he decided he wasn't comfortable with the lack of fortitude that caster types seemed to suffer, especially if he was physically in the game and able to be hurt.

However, he didn't really see himself as an upfront sort of hero, cast of muscle and lionheart. He'd played rugby in the past, and his instinct upon seeing another bulling their way towards him was not to throw himself at the onrushing figure for the requisite tackle, but to get the hell out of their way. Perhaps if he'd not supressed that instinct his left wrist wouldn't have broken bad enough to leave the field in an ambulance. Maybe he could try something sneaky?

Claire was only half-jokingly chatting up the charisma-based roles, "Think of it, you could be a dashing bard; your weapon a Lute, you stay clean and warm and make money partying and being the centre of attention."

He rolled his eyes at Claire and replied. "Perfect for you maybe. Unless the game comes equipped with an awesome autotune I don't think I'll make it on the singing circuit, and let's face it, I've never been the most sociable anyway."

Claire frowned at that. "Remember, Morgan, as my friend's brother's uncle once said; 'Knowledge isn't power without people.' Do be nice and try and make some friends."

Morgan replied with a laugh, "Look at me, basking in the wisdom of my powerful sister. I hear you though, I'll do my best."

As there wasn't a lot of information about character or class selection, they couldn't come up with anything definitive, but both agreed that he'd probably do best as a light armour character, something with swords and a cool cloak. He also vowed to branch into crafting if he could; though he'd never been particularly creative, he had gotten along well with crafting systems in games he'd played before. After spending the days mustering information and discussing it all with his family, he was now thoroughly looking forward to the strange fate that awaited him.