"Uhm, you can't play that."

Iter had finished laying down 6 tiles on the virtual grid in front of me. Or rather, he had laid them on the real board on the coffee table, while I was looking at a virtual replica of the board in AR on the kitchen table.

"We do not understand," Iter replied, his voice doubled in both my earbud and carried in from the next room. I could see him looking over at me questioningly from the couch from where I sat in the kitchen. The AR glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, giving him a studious cyberpunk librarian look. "We have placed pieces across the squares using a letter from the word 'down' that you have placed. The word We have formed using these letters has even captured the coveted "Double Word Score" square." His voice was questioning, but the smile he directed at me was smug. "Where is the problem?"

Sigh. "You've spelled "IGWLZQJ'." I looked down at the board and touched each of the tiles in question, highlighting them in the AR view, before physically turning and looking back at Iter.

"Yes. We are quite proud to have used a number of high scoring letters in Our turn. We believe that is 70 points altogether." He paused, unsure. "Should We have instead held these letters until we could reach the more powerful 'Triple Word Score' square?"

"No," I put my hand on my forehead. "I mean, that word is illegal. You can't play it."

"Why not? 'Igwlzqj is the breath, or 'qj' of the Igwlz tree. As it cools it forms an amber that is used by the Urlatonic tribes to create a tea used during their bonding ceremonies." Iter seemed indignant.

"Yes, I know," and oddly, I did. That was how the word was translated in my head, in vivid detail. I could envision the vapors flowing from the undulating bark of the Igwlz tree, coalescing in verdant pools at the base between its roots, hardening in opalescent layers over many ages of its lifespan. As Iter's description continued, I could see the brightly garbed but masked peoples of the Urlatonic harvesting the amber qj, bringing it to their herdmates and steeping the shavings in a seasonal tribute to the shared values of community, gratitude, and the labor of the young in service to their elders. This translation skill was pretty wild.

"We were disappointed that we could not add the prefix denoting the tea itself, but that tile does not seem to be among the set." Iter pursed his lips and scanned the rules pamphlet I'd left for him.

I closed my eyes and took a breath, pushing aside images of trees, tea, and Urlatonics I'd never seen or heard of before. "The problem is that the word is not English. It's against the rules."

"That seems unnecessarily limiting." Iter began gathering up his tiles and frowning.

"Well, I don't know that word, or any other words from different worlds, unless I hear them from you. Don't you think that gives you an unfair advantage?" Up until I saw that word on the board I never knew it existed. Or that the Urlatonic language (or whatever it was called) existed. Frankly, I was surprised we could use English letters to spell it.

"We are a God," Iter looked at me, eyebrows raised. "We are always at advantage."

I blinked. Then I sat back, closing my eyes and leaning my head back over the seat rest. "Why don't we stop here for now." We'd been testing Bushra's Augmented Reality Collaboration (or ARC) app for a while. First, we used some of the simple drawing tools included to play tic tac toe, which we both grew bored of pretty quickly. Then I tried the scanning features of the app, taking a short video of some basic dice and importing them. It worked amazingly well, even replicating the physics of the dice rolling in AR. I wondered how she'd implemented that. It was kinda weird, though, seeing disembodied purple hands roll dice in front of me, mimicking Iter's movement on the couch. I'd have to talk with Bushra about personalization options.

We were able to use the dice to play a simple game of Yahtzee pretty effectively. I thought Iter would appreciate the gaming aspect of the testing, but he seemed to lose interest quickly. I found an old Scrabble set I had on a shelf in the hall, and while it took some time scanning in each of the tiles, they were fairly easy to manipulate in AR. I had Iter use the physical board and tiles together with my virtual set to test out a mixed IRL/AR environment. It took a bit to figure out how to limit the available tiles so that we could play together with both physical and virtual pieces, but once I figured out how to map my AR objects to real-world items on Iter's account, limiting the virtual tiles available to it was straightforward. I wondered what use case that feature came from.

"We agree. We find these games unappealing." Iter had removed the AR glasses and set them down, and was already picking up the controller again. "There is no movement or advancement in those games. We prefer the progression in Wyrms Gate." He looked at me as the game loading screen appeared. "We do not wish to slight your companion Ms. Patel's creation, but it does not compare to the story in this game."

"What Bushra built is just the interface," I clarified. "Like the Communion, to pick a familiar example, not the quest." He seemed to give the point consideration, but the main menu soon appeared and he was engrossed again in the video game.

Quite frankly, I was impressed by the capabilities Bushra was able to implement so far. I can see why Complyze wanted to get its hands on it.

I watched Iter start up from his save and begin traversing to the next quest point. I considered for a moment. "While graphics are a limiting factor right now, you might be able to play something like a table top role playing game in ARC," I offered.

"And what is a 'table top role playing game'?" Iter replied genially, eyes glued to the screen.

"It's a story-based game that a group of people create together. There's usually a Game Master, or GM, who lays out the scenario and setting, and the players create characters to interact in that setting. The GM then describes how the elements and people in the world react to the players actions, and so on. It's kind of like the game you're playing now, except you use miniature figures and your imagination to handle the action. Well, the minis are optional, though some GMs create their own terrain maps," I was getting off track. "And instead of a computer telling a pre-generated story, the GM can adapt and evolve the story to the characters. It's pretty fun," I thought about the sessions I'd played with a group at the local game store, Epic Encounters. It had been a while, as the groups I was part of tended to come and go. I recalled my conversation with Bushra last night – the owner of Epic Encounters, Laci, was a big fan of AR and VR games. We'd had a discussion about it one evening when one of the game sessions had been unexpectedly canceled. He might be a good person to get some feedback from.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"So is this 'GM' a God as well?" Iter suddenly asked.

"Hunh? Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess?" The godlike powers of the GM were a running joke at our group's gaming table. "But not literally," I clarified quickly. "It's a game of shared imagination, but the GM acts as all the non-player characters and functions as referee on questions of the rules. So it's more like they play the role of the game world itself?" I wasn't sure I'd explained it very well.

"We should like to meet this 'GM'." Iter announced, before leading his party to a dungeon entrance and entering. I passed on clarifying it was a role played by different people in different sessions. I'd GM'd myself before, though I had more fun as a player. A mental image of Iter catechizing one of the regular GMs arrested my thoughts momentarily.

After closing our ARC sessions and putting away the glasses and games, I returned to the kitchen to figure out lunch. There wasn't much to work with. I wish I could say I'd eaten out a lot over the last few days, but this was a pretty standard frequency for me. Lots of people I knew enjoyed cooking. I wasn't one of them. But it wasn't the most frugal of lifestyles. I'd have to go to the grocery to stock up on some things to make at home at some point.

Luckily, I'd collected a sizeable sum this morning from the loot drops on Location – not enough to pay rent, but certainly enough to get some lunch. And I'd definitely spent some calories this morning, so a little splurging wouldn't hurt either my waist or my wallet.

"Iter? Want to come with me to get some Mexican food?

✦ ✦ ✦

In addition to an overabundance of breakfast diners, Alameda was known for its brunch spots. The two facts were probably correlated, if not causal. However, the spot I picked was a small converted home with a red tile roof known simply as Rosa's. Surrounded by an industrial zone that had grown up around it, it continued to serve up the most amazing Mexican food I've ever eaten. I have some acquaintances in LA and San Diego who scoff at the notion of Mexican food in Northern California, but to each their own. I'll take Rosa's.

It was busy on a late Sunday morning, expectedly so. The walls and booths were painted in stripes of light blue, yellow, orange and red, while green painted chairs sat at purple tables. The air was filled with the smells of frying oil and corn tortillas, the serving staff busying themselves between the filled serving room and the kitchen. In contrast, the matronly host sat seated at a podium up front, idly watching a futbol game playing on a large screen TV by the small bar.

The host took down our names and smiled broadly, before turning back to the game. I was back in jeans and a light blue t-shirt with a silhouette of Ultraman done in the style of the NBA logo, while Iter had gone for ivory-colored skinny jeans and a solid dove grey shirt that a hung like silk on his god-like frame. I'd hoped my Luck streak would hold out, but we ended up with a 45 minute wait for a table for two. Or maybe that was lucky – Rosa's was always packed on Sundays. My stomach groaned in anticipation.

Once seated and our orders taken (machaca con huevos and iced tea for me, water for Iter), I grabbed a tortilla chip from the basket and looked across the table at the god. Iter was looking around surreptitiously at the other dinners, an expression of mild distaste marring his otherwise immaculate features. It must be like being a vegan at a hot dog eating contest, I thought idly, dipping the chip in salsa and popping it in my mouth. Bearing some responsibility for his predicament, I offered, "You don't have to come with me, you know."

Iter turned towards me, eyebrows raised. "We have discussed this. We will support you wherever you go."

"Yeah, well, I eat 3 times a day," I chided good naturedly around a mouthful of chip, and picking up another. "Even if it makes you uncomfortable, I can't exactly stop." I paused, then offered, "You could stay at my house." He'd been doing that already, I realized. Somehow I'd acquired a more or less permanent guest now.

"We are content to remain at your side." He smiled softly.

I thought I'd be more worried about a man I hardly knew staying at my home. Maybe I should be. But Iter was entirely unthreatening, at least in a mundane sense. I felt entirely at ease around him, the realization of which made me frown in consternation. He wasn't exactly a burden, either, except for maybe an increase in my electricity bill. I wasn't sure about it in the long term, though.

"So what happens next?" I asked out loud.

"We thought you and Ms. Patel had a plan of action," he replied, leaning his head on his hand and narrowing his eyes like a cat.

"I mean, after all that. All of this," I waved away extortion, bribery, and legal threats like so much air. "Are you planning to stay at my apartment forever? When I get a new job, are you planning on following me to work?" The latter had occurred to me just now, causing my brow to wrinkle further.

"We need not intrude on all aspects of Our Hero's life. After you are settled into your role and path, We would be pleased to step back for a time." The corners of his lips turned upward in a reassuring smile. "Is that your goal, a new job?"

I sighed. "This app of Bushra's is pretty close to technically complete. I've seen worse alphas." There was definitely something of value there. I'd been expecting to find something wrong, some flaw, some reason why the product wouldn't work. Then I could let Bushra down easy, or better yet, direct her to some contact or company where she could leverage her work as a foot in the door.

But from what I've seen so far, it was the real deal. Bushra was incredibly talented, and her passion and drive were infectious. So why was I still holding back?

The food arrived at that point, the contents of the plate still sizzling. The aroma of spiced beef, peppers, onions, and eggs rose on wafts of steam. My animalistic brain overpowered all other non-essential thoughts to focus all its synapses on the urgent task before me. I took one of the flour tortillas they'd placed next to the larger plate, and began loading it with refried beans, rice, and machaca, followed by a dollop of salsa from the ever-present dish. I wrapped it to keep the contents within, then raised it to my mouth with ravenous delight.

"Oh my god, this is so good." I uttered between mouthfuls.

"We cannot take credit, but We will accept your praise nevertheless," Iter responded with an amused grin.

"Hey, well, if you could make this, you would have my undying devotion," I smiled back.

"Perhaps this skill is worth acquiring, then." He chuckled.

After three tortillas were built and consumed in a gastronomic orgy of delight (I was really hungry), I sighed and leaned back in my chair. It creaked audibly, but I ignored it, one arm across my bulging belly, the other dropped at my side. Fully half the meal still remained on my plate. Bless you, Doña Rosa!

"Are you sated?" Iter asked.

"Ungh. So good!" I groaned.

"Perhaps We will continue to follow Our Hero to establishments such as this in the future," he smiled, amused. "We can derive nourishment from simply being in the vicinity."

"Suit yourself," I sighed, "though you don't know what you're missing."

He narrowed his eyes and peered at me in appraisal, though his smile never left his lips. "Feeling better?"

I straightened up and looked at him across the table. He was resting his face in his hands, elbows on the table in a relaxed and measured pose. I considered.

"I do feel better," I acknowledged. "Still not sure about this company idea. I mean, what can I do? Bushra did all the work." That was close to the heart of it, at least what I wanted to say out loud.

"What is needed?" He pressed.

"Well, as Kris said, a business plan is a good start." I thought about it for a moment, then started listing things off. "We need a paying customer, we need a way to sell and provision the service, and we need money to cover our costs until those happen. We need to market and sell the product. And we need to establish a company to have an entity that can pay for services and collect money. Not necessarily in that order." I looked across the table. "We're starting from scratch. We need everything."

"Can you do these things?" Iter met my gaze.

"Honestly, some of it, but not all." I slumped my shoulders.

"Do you know anyone who can?"