Colm was exhausted. He hadn't slept the night, and he hadn’t eaten anything. But he kept running, for fear of disappointing the old man, Viktor. And when he was done, Viktor made him wear the suit from the top of his head down to his toes. It adjusted around his body, and he looked ugly with it covering his entire face but his eyes. And then he floated into the air.
“Now, the anti-gravs are active. This suit is perfectly calibrated to accommodate a professional. Don’t modify it.” He stepped forward, holding a helmet. “Wear this. You have three hours before class. That’s two, discounting a shower. Have you told your sister to come here?”
“I did. Yeah.”
Colm wore the helmet.
“Two hours,” the old man said. He activated the helmet, and the world went dark. “Let’s see how well you adapt to combat now that you’re exhausted.”
“Am I being trained for the professional league or something?” He asked jokingly.
The old man laughed. “You’re far too weak for that. The players will decimate you.” The old man’s voice started getting weaker, until it was nothing but a faint murmur in the background.
Colm focused on what was in front of him. There were different games listed here. He was told to choose this one particular game known to four generations of humanity: COREPUNK.
And for good reason. Nothing would be more lucrative than the only game that uses real credits in its in-game economy.
He started the game.
And the suit clamped tight around his body, and suddenly, he felt as though he was floating. He didn’t feel like being in a room at all. His sense of touch and smell betrayed him.
He was in a library now. Bookshelves stretched to infinity from one corner, and then the other. Having never played nor researched Corepunk, Colm had no idea what to expect.
There was a counter in the distance. He walked towards it. The place smelled of paper.
There was a creature there—not a human, but a jumble of glowing squares stacked and spinning around each other. It arranged and rearranged. Books flipped open and closed and returned to the shelves.
Then, a deep voice: “This is where data is collected, archived, and processed. I find myself at peace in a sea of information. I hope the sound of pages calms you.”
Colm stood, looking up. “Who are you?” He wondered if his voice could leak out of the helmet, then realized that was a main reason why VR helmets exist, so there wouldn’t be any leak of information.
“You know of me,” it said. “I am Spirit. The first sapient artificial intelligence. I govern this world. Are you aware of the procedure?”
“I didn’t do my research.”
“Then allow me to extend my knowledge. In my world, you can choose where you spawn. You can, however, leave your choice to me, and I shall pick one sufficiently appropriate of your potential. If you have a companion, then you may discuss and select a place of your choice.”
Colm thought about it. “I’ll leave it to you.”
“Very well.” There was a pause in the conversation. Then, “Onto the final matter. I present to you two choices. On my right hand is a sphere—but it is no ordinary object. It is a sphere of Fortune, and there is a randomized chance you’ll achieve a very rare item, skill, enhancements, or any sorts. It is very valuable, but purely it is an element of luck. You may, for example, take this and get nothing at all. On the other hand,”—a grand gesture—“This is a primary set for new players. An unarmored suit, helmet, and other such necessities fit to the environment that I have chosen for you. Take your pick.”
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“What do you recommend?”
“Nothing at all,” it said. “Though, I must add, Fortune does favor the bold.”
Colm looked at both choices. The scent of paper filled his nose, and there was warmth here, but no sun. In the top-right corner of his sight was the time. It had only been ten minutes. In all his life, a simple risk could be the difference between thousands of credits or starvation. He had decided what was necessary because a mistake could kill you, and there was no room for mistakes. Not here, not anywhere else. If he treated this like a game, then he would, in doubt, pick the riskier option.
Now, he informed the Spirit that he wanted the primary set.
“Are you—“ it paused. “—are you certain?”
“I am.”
“There is still time to change your mind.”
“I made up my mind. And I have class today, so I would rather not waste any more time thinking about it.”
The being rumbled thoughtfully. “If I may inquire, what led you to choose the primary set over the sphere of Fortune? It is rather rare, after all. You may get a powerful creature to follow you, or a weapon you can sell that can make you rich. Or famous. Or both. There is an infinite possibility in this simple sphere.”
Colm shrugged. “I’m okay.”
“You’re... what?”
“I’m good. I don’t need that. I just...”
The being hovered closer, settling its cubes on the ground and staring deeply into Colm, which made him uncomfortable.
He continued. “I’m starving. It’d be nice if I can buy something to eat with what I get in the game. Maybe some ice cream. You know, the one with peanuts and marshmallows in it.”
“Rocky road?”
He gave a nod.
“If that is what you have chosen, then that is what you will get. Good luck.”
Colm blinked, and then there was darkness. He blinked again, and now the sun was blazing down from high above. He could feel the heat through his suit, piercing his skin. He was sweating bullets.
He felt his in-game clothes. It was the same black suit, but with armored parts on his elbows, knees, crotch, and feet. He took off his in-game helmet, which looked the same as the one he was wearing in real life, then he put it back on.
He had heard of some phrase many times, so he uttered it quietly. “Status.”
A screen popped up.
Information Statistics Status Name: Colm (Official) Class: Undesignated Vitality: 1 Race: Human (Official) Rank: Undesignated Agility: 1 Guild: — Skill Slots Available: — — Arcane: 0
Over in the distance—the desert. Here were small sandstone buildings and some dozens of other players scattered about.
“Move it. You’re blocking the portal.”
Colm stepped aside. Behind him was a large structure where players passed through and disappeared or reappeared. He walked away from it and then checked his suit. He had some sort of spear in a chamber and empty pouch belts. He reached for something magnetically attached to his back, which turned out to be an anti-gravity board. It had been a long time since he last used one. It was almost nostalgic.
As he walked around and observed, he found hotspots where players converged. There was an open market where goods were sold and traded and crafted. Tall, heavily defended buildings where, according to the receptionist, players could sleep with ease without being attacked since there was also a high-level of protection in the room. But the most interesting part was what they called the Hub.
The Hub was three stories tall, at the center of the village, and had an open double door on each side of the wall. It was a tremendously open space where players lounged and bustled. As Colm walked inside, he saw a circular space in the middle where the receptionists were talking to the players. He went in line.
He saw a board at the very middle, and hanging at the top, detailing monsters and their bounties and other players too. When it was his turn, the woman behind the desk looked at him.
“You’re new here,” she said.
Colm was confused. “How did you know?”
“The way you walk. It’s too stiff. There’s a clear difference between players who use the VR and those who don’t. Take a seat anywhere, and I’ll send someone to explain the system to you.”
Colm said he will and strolled around the first floor. Eventually, he managed to find an empty table and chair and sat there, he felt wonderful. No one knew him here. He doesn’t have to look at one corner for people like Anatolius, and there wasn’t any real harm that could be done to him other than artificial pain.
He also found that his suit stiffened to the point that while he was sitting on air, he couldn’t feel the difference in-game.
Just then, someone sat opposite to him. He was unable to see underneath the hood. The person looked around for a minute or so, and when the receptionist was walking toward him, the person stood up.
They took off their cloak. Some people looked at them, and Colm heard someone shout: “A Korvel! Take cover!”
There was a flash of light, and then—an explosion.