Peter sat on the uncomfortable pleather seat of the bus, shielding his eyes from the intermittent blinding flashes of the cursed day star. He grimaced as the uneven road caused the suspension to sway and let the sun peep around his hand. His morning had started when he flipped the sheet off his face, wincing as the dried tears stuck the fabric to his face.

Yep, the real world still sucks.

The apartment had been quiet, and lit only by the light leaking under his parent’s bedroom door. I guess the “no closed doors” rule only applies to me Peter grumbled as he slid silently out of bed. Padding gently to the window, he had parted the curtains and gazed out at the city below. It was still early enough in the night to be busy, the streets pulsing with vehicle lights, putting Peter in mind of electrons flowing through a particularly complex circuit.

Curiosity had overcome his fear of being caught, so he’d tiptoed his way down the hall to the kitchen, listening intently for any sounds that might indicate that his mother might be awake. Nothing.

The clock on the microwave ticked over from 01:59 to 02:00, the sudden shift in illumination of the seven segment display had caused Peter’s bowels to tighten and ice water to run in his veins. When you’re wound this tight, any changes in the environment can seem world-ending. Taking a calming breath, Peter checked the key bowl for his Dad’s keys, found they weren’t there, and snuck back to bed. What does that mean? Where is he at this time of...

The AI controlling the bus slammed on the brakes to avoid running over an oblivious cyclist, but the unexpected change sent Peter sliding off the seat and under the one in front, completely disrupting his train of thought. He extricated himself painfully and returned to where he’d been sitting. Rather than fight the weariness that gripped him, he relented and laid back against the cool plexiglass window and closed his eyes. With the bench seat to himself, he swung his legs up and hung his feet out into the aisle.

At least he had a good time last night. He thought back to the exchange he had with Pham and Dani after they had looted the goblins.

Peter’s pick had dug into the mining node and stuck, forcing him to wrench at the handle with a grunt. When it released, the floor was showered with small stones and several fist sized pieces that he had come to recognise as ore.

“Soooo... you’re telling me that Maya is a girl?” Peter asked as he scooped the lot into his inventory.

Dani had been making the strangled noises one makes when struggling to suppress a laugh.

Pham didn’t even bother trying. “The name wasn’t a tip off?”

Straightening, Peter examined the node with Appraise. Depleted Copper Mining Node. “Ok, next one,” he said, pointing down the tunnel. “And, yeah, I thought it weird that a guy would have a girls name, but who knows what customs half-ogre half-dwarves have for naming their kids?”

That had brought the two amature comedians up short. “Half what and what?” they exclaimed in unison.

Even now, feeling like an elephant was sitting on his frontal lobe, the look on their faces brought a smile to his. He was especially proud of how he had handled himself next.

Deciding to play it cool, Peter started swinging his pick at the next node. “Ogre and dwarf,” he explained between swings. “You two have been here heaps longer than I have, are you trying to tell me you didn’t know?” It was a good thing that the glare from his helmet lamp had hidden the smirk on his face.

Pham shrugged. “Never been to this mine before. In fact,” he paused as he stepped up and took his turn swinging at the node, “I’ve always just bought my metals as ingots from a blacksmith or on the auction house. Sure, I mean, it’s cool that I’m getting some strength points up here, but I’m focussed on the fine work. It’s not often anything survives my traps, not in the long run, but if they do, that’s what the old inch and a half is for. Ugh, Dani? You ready for a go?”

Peter frowned at the memory of what happened when Dani stepped forward and got to work on the node though. Notably, that when her strikes hit they produced a different tone to his and Pham’s. Something to check on later, the thought sleepily.

“Still,” Peter had continued as he watched, “she isn’t wearing a shirt. Just that beard that covers her whole chest. There’s kids about. What if they see something they shouldn’t?”

Pham sidled up to Peter and whispered in his ear. “You mean you’d like to see something you shouldn’t? Eh? Eh?”

Peter felt the heat rise in his face again as it had last night before he shoved Pham away. “I’m not like that. Come on.”

“Don’t worry. You can’t see anything. There’s safeguards. Waz tried going into one of the clubs in the city about a month ago and the doorman let him in because he’d done the quest line and paid the entry fee. He said that the dancers were all there but fully clothed. Never seen the poor guy so sad. You’re up,” Pham explained, then shoved Peter towards the wall as Dani stepped back and shouldered her pick.

The bus turned a corner, momentarily lifting his head away from the cool of the window. It was good to know that there were systems in place to protect players from inappropriate content corrupting their minds, but Peter felt that he could maybe do with a smidgen of corruption, just to know what it was he was being protected from. Not from Maya though, she’s hella scary. The bus completed its maneuver and Peter let his head fall gently back again. He let his mind wander back again.

“Dunno what you two lovebirds were whispering about,” Dani had chided as she checked up and down the tunnel. The fresh traps Pham had set glinted in her helmet light, hanging from the walls. “But Maya’s just Maya. I knew she was Dwarfkin but not pureblood. You know that Dwarves don’t make that big a distinction between girl and boy, they care more about whether you can pick up a hammer or not. If you can, you’re either a fighter or a smith.”

Peter began working the node, but after two swings the pick shattered into motes of light. His hands felt like they’d been slapped by an atomic drop low-five, the sort where the deliverer climbs on a chair and jumps off for extra height and acceleration. They’d been all the rage at school a year ago. The sharp pain made him yelp and thrust his hands between his legs. “Ow, dang it.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, what if you can’t pick up a hammer?”

“If you can’t, you’re not a dwarf. Here, let me finish this,” Dani took one last swing at the node, the pick leaving a golden trail through the air. When she tugged the tip free, every piece that came out was ore, not rock, and a small green gemstone as well. Scooping it all up, she dropped the gem into a pouch and handed the rest to Peter. “Here you go. Not bad for a day’s work, eh? What say we head back topside?”

Stolen novel; please report.

The bus pulled up with a squeak of brakes and someone slapped Peter’s feet, causing his legs to slide off the pleather and pulled him forward, nearly tipping him into the footwell again.

“Jerk!” he called after the anonymous slapster without opening his eyes. In fact he stayed that way until the last student had trooped down the aisle and out the door. Then he opened his weary eyes and hauled himself off the bus.

Too exhausted to be bothered with his locker, Peter stumbled his way to his homeroom, found his desk and laid his head on the blessedly cool formica. Fellow students started to fill the room, but as usual, nobody cared enough to disturb him. He was disturbed enough by what had happened next.

After Dani suggested pulling up stumps for the day, like a flash, Pham was away down the tunnel to where he’d set his traps. Peter took the proffered items and added them to the piles in his inventory. He had smiled at the curled up furball in one corner and noted that he was all out of food again. He had ruffled DB’s fur and smiled as a tiny eye cracked open for a moment before closing again with a huff. “Sleep well buddy, a mine is no place for a rat.”

“You talking to yourself again, Pete?” Pham called from where he was poking at a device with a long brass spike.

“Only when I need expert advice,” Peter shot back, lobbing a piece of rock in Pham’s direction. “So,” he continued, turning back to Dani, “there’s no dwarven mages? Scholars? Is that how it works?”

The two started slowly towards the entrance as Pham stashed his devices and caught up. “There are, but they’re all either smiths or fighters first,” Dani explained. “So, you will definitely see dwarven farmers and tavern keeps and such if you visit their towns and cities. But, here’s how it goes. Every spring equinox, every dwarf in their hundredth year attends the Naming Day ceremony. They all get one chance to lift this ceremonial iron hammer and ring one of two iron bells. One has an axe on it, one has a shield. When they ring the bell, they’re given their Second Name from the list on the bells. Then they all go get drunk.”

Peter remembered how he had paused at a junction and listened intently. “Did you hear that?” he had asked, hesitantly. Oh how I wish I’d ignored that sound,he grimaced, rocking his head back and forth.

“Other than you two nattering on about dwarf balls?” Pham pushed between them and continued up the tunnel. “Nope. Now, let’s get out of here before any more of those weird-ass gobbos show up. I don’t wanna log off in here and I’ve got homework to do.”

“Dwarf bells,” corrected Dani, “but Pham’s right Peter, the sooner I see sunlight the happier I’ll be. I’ve never seen a shade corrupted creature before, and I can’t say I want to again.” She followed Pham, her helmet light bobbing along as she half-jogged to catch up.

The bell rang to indicate homeroom had started and their teacher logged in with his customary flair. Probably. Peter still had his head on the desk with his eyes closed, but the flickering on his eyelids was a fair indicator. Roll was called and though his voice was muffled due to his face being mashed into the desktop, he was marked present. The end of homeroom bell rang and he pried himself off the desk.

It was increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open as Peter made his way across the compound to the first class. The sun was uncomfortably bright and his eyes kept closing themselves of their own accord. Peter opted to let his other senses take over the job of navigating, running a hand over the walls and handrails, listening to other students for voices he recognised.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a long trip. Fighting the weight of his eyelids as long as he could, Peter thanked every god in every pantheon he could think of that assigned seating wasn’t a thing in his school, and slumped into a desk at the back of the room. The moment his butt hit the chair his eyes forced themselves shut again and Peter gave up struggling against it. He let his head loll back and let the memory reclaim him.

The tunnel had darkened as his companions left, taking their light with them. Peter stood, listening intently as their footsteps receded. He even tried a trick his grandfather had taught him, closing his eyes and opening his mouth. He could hear the drip of water on stone from the passage up which they had come. He could hear a slight breeze moaning from the other tunnel. Neither of which felt like the sound he had almost heard. A frown creased his forehead.

“Oi, dumbass,” Pham’s voice echoed down the tunnel. “You coming or not?”

Peter’s frown deepened. “Gimme a minute. Actually, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

For a brief minute, silence reigned. Some sand fell from the ceiling, scattering across the floor with a soft hiss. Peter could hear the mountain settle on itself. They really put some effort into the realism here, he thought.

“Hey, what about me?” Dani called, ruining the moment.

Peter heaved a sigh. “What about you?” he shouted back up the tunnel.

“Should I wait for you or not?”

“I, er, what?” Peter stuttered, his train of thought derailed as a small pile of pebbles bounced off his shoulder. He looked up, the light shining across rough stone above. Nothing stood out as unusual, but for some reason he couldn’t shake it just looked wrong somehow.

“What?”

Turning his head to project his voice better, Peter yelled “I’ll catch you back in town. Now, can you be quiet, I’m trying to listen to something!”

“Fine!” Dani huffed. “Don’t blame me if something eats your face though.”

“Nothing’s going to eat my face,” Peter muttered as another stream of sand and pebbles hit the floor near his boot. This time he heard the sound that had been lurking at the edge of his hearing, like a subconscious itch.

He looked up just in time to see a short stalactite detach from the roof and drop towards his head. A webbed skirt flared out around the central spike then inverted as it struck him in the forehead, gathering around his neck like a noose.

Peter tried screaming, but the skirt just tightened around his throat, cutting off all breath. He tried punching himself in the head, but it only had the most obvious result. He tried running headfirst into the wall, again, with the most obvious of results. Peter’s legs gave out, depositing him on the floor as his air started to run out.

As his consciousness began to fade to black, his last thought was She was right. Dani’s never going to let me hear the end of this…

Peter woke up on the floor, his ears ringing and little lights flashing in front of his eyes. Where am I? Shouldn’t I be in Jacob’s crypt?

“Mister Fuller!” an enraged voice cut through the fog. “Would you mind not disturbing my class?” Mr Luck, the math teacher stood over him in all his holographic glory. Peter was thankful that the teacher was just a projection, because Mr Luck’s impressive girth looked even more intimidating from this angle. “It’s bad enough that you were sleeping, but some people are trying to learn. Take yourself down to the co-ordinator’s office.” A digital finger was thrust at the door. “And try not to take a nap on the way!”

To the collective amusement of the entire class, Peter collected himself and stumbled out the door. Tittering and whispers of “sleepyhead” and “scar-boy” followed him down the hall until the classroom door shut, but he barely heard. The path to the co-ordinators office was a blur. Ugh, why does my head hurt so much? Peter thumped the heel of his palm into his aching forehead. Oh, right. That.

After he had crept back into bed last night, sleep had been rather elusive. Not wanting to hang about in the void while his body was reconstructed, he had instead elected to read a book from his digital library. The implant bypassed the time-honored tradition of reading under the covers with a torch by simply suspending the words in front of his eyes, but Peter flipped the sheet over his head and made a tent with his arms anyway. It just felt right.

Trying to get a feel for the AoS&S world, he picked a Jules Verne book - Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea. There wasn’t any magic in it, but Victorian age science fiction was the epitome of steampunk, and he already had a pretty firm grasp on fantasy tropes and themes.

Words unfurled themselves under Peter’s eyes and pages flew past as he devoured chapter after chapter. Ships were sunk, giant squids fought and the wonders of the Nautilus unveiled. As with most books, Peter found it hard to stop reading. Especially a tale as enthralling as this.

Eventually, however, the real world intruded. He had only intended to read until he heard his Dad come home, but he had been absorbed by Verne’s world as completely as he was when playing AOS&S. Shocked out of his trance by the alarm, Peter tangled himself in his sheets and tumbled to the floor. Dad didn’t come home,he realised dejectedly. Where could he be?