**Ring ring **

I've seldom been so relieved to hear my mobile phone as then, as it rescued me from the tedious task of monitoring airplanes.

"What's that?" White Flower inquired in my thoughts.

I replied while picking it up,

"It's the telephone. It's my mother! Hello!?"

"Hi, Dolores? Where are you, dear!?" my mother's voice came through.

"Hi, Mom! I'm outside, jogging!"

Alright, that sounded plausible, I thought. However, my mother's tone indicated that something was amiss. She immediately asked about my whereabouts, which raised suspicions and had to be connected to my nemesis, Clara.

"Why is Clara telling me she doesn't know where you are?"

Bingo! My mother's question confirmed my doubts.

"Because she was in the shower when I left. Mom, I don't need to tell Clara when I'm going jogging. I'm eighteen, you know?"

I could hear her sigh on the other end of the line.

"Dear, don't act like such an independent grown-up now. It's normal to let your housemates know when you're going out, not just disappear like that."

I nearly snorted in response.

"Mom, Clara can spend hours in the shower, and Lola was asleep. Should I skip my jog because of that?"

"What about breakfast? Did you eat anything?" she asked, ignoring my banter.

I answered truthfully, "I had eggs, butter, bread, and some veggies."

Well, technically, I wasn't lying. The butter was an oddity that the old man had stored underwater, in a glass, but it existed. If only she knew that my breakfast was what a couple of homeless people had shared with me...

She sounded relieved.

"Alright then. When do you plan on going home? Clara and Lola want to go shopping!"

"Again? No, Mom, I'm not up for shopping with them. I'd rather go jogging and then read a book. If they need to reach me, they can call my mobile instead of telling you."

"Clara mentioned that she called you, and you didn't answer!?"

I inwardly groaned. Clara was already on this.

"Uh, well... it's possible," I admitted reluctantly, "I might not have heard it."

"Dolores, it's not polite to ignore their calls!"

I tried to defend myself, "I didn't ignore it on purpose, Mom!"

Truth be told, I did. All Clara's calls go automatically to my phone's voicemail, which I rarely check. I could almost hear Mom's exasperated sigh.

White Flower added fuel to the fire, stating, "It's not nice to lie to your mother!"

Attacked from two sides, I almost came out in a kamikaze attack. I came close to saying out loud: "Oh, just hush already."

I almost let it slip out. Fortunately, at the last moment, I remembered that I was on the phone with my mom, and that wouldn't have gone over well. So, feeling defeated, I bit my tongue and endured her reprimands without argument.

The call wrapped up in about five more minutes, unusually short. Obviously, Mom wasn't pleased with me. She had a habit of calling me regularly, and Saturday mornings were often designated for these calls, so hearing from her wasn't surprising.

What grated on my nerves was Clara's denouncement, but there was nothing I could do about it. Thank goodness she didn't know about the bike.

After the phone call ended, I let out a sigh and spoke to White Flower.

"Alright, now that you've kept me occupied watching airplanes on this field for so long, let's give some magic a shot."

She didn't completely give up on her now favorite sport:

"Sure, but if you hear an airplane, just look up, okay?"

I accepted, hoping she would not torment me for each and every plane.

"Sure... Oh, by the way, speaking of trying magic, could you conceal me from view so that nobody sees me waving my hands alone here?"

"Alright, I'll guide you through that. Give me the lead!" - she answered.

Finally, I could delve into some magic. Once she finished cloaking me, I began the exercises. She explained the steps, what I should be sensing, and how to focus. I gave it my all but to no avail. It was a letdown, but she tried to encourage me.

"Don't get discouraged after just half an hour. Some people take years to reach the initial stage and conjure even a small flame!"

Is she comparing me to those beings from that imaginary world? I only half-listened to her words as I struggled to concentrate on my task.

"Feel the mana," she said, "it's a part of you. Sense how it flows through your body!"

I tried, but I didn't feel a thing. How would this ever enhance my spellcasting abilities?

I heard a truck approaching, but I dismissed it since I was a few meters off the road, on a sort of makeshift path through the open ground. I made an effort to stay concentrated on the exercise, but there was something off about that truck.

The noise! Oh, damn it, that noise wasn't the typical sound of wheels on asphalt; it was the rumble of wheels over rugged terrain.

I swiftly turned, my alarm growing as I spotted an enormous wall of gleaming dark green metal and silvery glass hurtling toward me at high speed.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Let me tell you, a truck is a seriously impressive sight, especially when it's barreling straight at you. My heart rate instantly went from normal to overdrive, and my hair seemed to stand on end like it had been charged with electricity. I locked eyes with the driver through the windshield, and in that instant, I saw in his eyes the same terror that was gripping me: that truck was about to run me down.

In my panic, I twisted, lost my footing on my bicycle, and tumbled away. The truck let out an otherworldly wail as its massive tires screeched to a halt, but they continued to skid in my direction, kicking up clouds of dust and sending stones flying like bullets. The metal behemoth leaned forward as if some ancient beast was lowering its enormous head to take a bite out of me, producing all sorts of eerie sounds as it devoured my bicycle.

It came to a stop just inches from me, teetering precariously. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but my voice was drowned out by the deafening cacophony of the truck.

Then, for what felt like an eternity, silence descended as if everything had been frozen in time; even the dust seemed to hang motionless in the air.

Finally, I heard the driver opening the cabin door and stepping onto the metal stairs.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” he repeated like a rhythmic chant.

He came around the truck, his face filled with disbelief.

“Oh my god, oh my god, are you ok?”

I couldn't even muster a response; I just stared at him. Seeing his incredulous expression was reassuring, confirming that I hadn't been flattened.

He reached out and helped me to my feet, his eyes scanning for any squished parts. I still couldn't utter a word, just trembling in shock.

“I haven't seen you! I haven't seen you! And suddenly, you were there, right in front of me! I haven't seen you! I am so sorry!”

In my dazed state, it took me a moment to grasp what had happened.

Of course, he hadn't seen me. It was my own doing. I had asked White Flower to cloak me, to make me invisible to others. She must have done it quite effectively. He only saw me after he passed by what she called a 'mirror,' one of her mirages. Thankfully, she hadn't used one of those spells that redirected light around me; otherwise, I'd be more than a little squished by now.

Life as an invisible girl can be rather challenging, I thought. I still felt guilty that I hadn't explained it to him, but what could I have told him?

My bicycle ended up beneath the truck, but thankfully, it hadn't been crushed by the massive tires. Retrieving it was a bit of a challenge; he had to reverse the truck a few meters to free it.

I was relieved to see that my bicycle had survived the ordeal with only minor scratches. The handlebars were slightly misaligned, but he managed to straighten them out.

Both of us were still shaken and shocked by what had just happened, but in the end, no harm had come of it. I had come dangerously close to being run over by that enormous truck due to my own foolishness. The truck's wheels were nearly as tall as me, and it was hauling a load of gravel.

The poor driver had only wanted a brief break to eat a sandwich.

Strangely, there was a silver lining to this misadventure. During our conversation, I discovered that he was aware of the gamers and that his route took him near their new location. It was just another abandoned factory across the street, a bit farther from their old spot. He kindly loaded my bicycle onto the bed of the truck among the gravel.

This unexpected turn of events allowed me to climb up into the high cabin and see the world from his perspective. White Flower was quite excited about the experience.

Upon reaching my destination, he unloaded my bike and left me in front of a massive ruin. The truck let out a couple of honks as it drove away. It was as if we had become best friends, or perhaps he was simply honking, expressing his gratitude to all gods that nothing terrible had occurred.

The factory stood roughly 100 meters from the road, enclosed by a fence. I left my bicycle by the roadside, cleverly hidden behind some bushes, and squeezed in through a gap in the fence. Later on, I discovered that a section of the fence could actually be opened, but there was a simple trick to it, and of course, no one was around to clue me in.

Inside, the gamers were a sight to behold. There were around a hundred people scattered throughout the vast building, making it appear almost empty. As I entered, I encountered something akin to a checkpoint at the entrance. The two guys even inquired about my name, or rather, my gamer handle: Zetta.

What the gamers were up to here probably wasn't entirely illegal, or at least not all of it. The authorities tolerated the gamers as a means for young people to blow off steam, something relatively harmless compared to various hacker groups and shadier organizations.

Although I did recognize a few faces from the old days, most were new to me. A couple of guys cast suspicious glances in my direction, but no one questioned my presence. Many were engrossed in playing, lounging on makeshift mattresses or in small, half-open bunks, while others formed small groups from five to fifteen, huddled together to strategize their next moves. Success in most multiplayer games demands a good deal of planning.

There was even an impromptu board displaying a schedule for discussions and a chart outlining different gaming areas. Naturally, Mephi was the dominating topic of conversation.

I made an attempt to strike up a conversation with a couple of folks who were sipping on some sweetened soda perched on barrels that formed a makeshift bar.

"Hey there!" - I said with a wide grin on my face.

The girl shot me a weary look. "Hello. What brings you here?"

"I'm looking for information about Mephisto Hardcore."

The skinny boy grinned, sipping from his drink. Damn, they've got plastic straws here! I need to take some home; I hate those paper straws I have at home, but I haven't found any plastic straws lately.

"You too? The game's locked!" - he said.

I observed him, a bit puzzled.

"What do you mean? I played it earlier this morning..."

The girl cut me off with a shrug. "You got lucky. Now it's showing a message that the game's inaccessible."

"Really? Did it crash?" I wondered.

"Hmm, possibly. The odd thing is, some folks are still inside the game, so it's not entirely down."

"So, it's not crashed?" I asked, seeking clarification.

The boy followed with a shrug of his own. Since no one chimed in to provide more details, I inquired further,

"Do either of you happen to know where Claude or Markus is?"

The girl replied, "I haven't seen Markus in about a year. I think Claude might be one of the guys still inside Mephi. He knows it's off-limits now, so he'll probably stay in as long as he can."

Since nothing more was forthcoming, I eventually left them and started searching for others to talk to, hoping to get a more comprehensive picture of the situation.

In a corner, there was a towering stack of cans glinting in the dim light. It was probably a ton of expired cans or perhaps part of a load "lost" by an automated truck. Robberies targeting automated trucks had become increasingly common, and there were discussions about equipping them with some non-lethal defenses, like electric shocks.

Robocop comes to the rescue - I thought.

"Mind if I take the lead? I'm curious to try some of that soda," White Flower suggested.

I chuckled. The other half of my brain, the one that acted like a three-year-old watching airplanes, was now strangely eager to taste the potentially poisonous beverage.

"That stuff's pure poison!" I exclaimed.

A passing guy couldn't help but grin. "You've got that right!"

Inside me, White Flower just shrugged. "I'd still like to taste it. That guy looked way too happy sipping it..."

Ah, whatever.

"Alright, you lead!" I conceded.

Once she took over... It never ceased to amaze me how differently she moved and acted when in charge. It was still my body, and yet... could I say it was not the same soul? What defines us? What determines how we move and how others perceive us?

Several guys were now eyeing me with interest. This was an unusual kind of attention for me. I wasn't accustomed to guys looking at me like this.

How had they suddenly become aware of my presence? Why had I gone from being 'invisible' to suddenly visible?

I felt a bit like Little Red Riding Hood must have felt when the big bad wolf was eyeing her.

But then something strange happened.

Somebody yelled, then another one.

Panic spread through the crowd as people began to run back and forth. Some individuals who had previously been lost in Dreamland, immersed in their dream interfaces, were now sitting up and vomiting their breakfasts. It was a classic breakdown of the dream interface, with no normal way to exit.

"What's going on?" White Flower wondered aloud.

"Let me take over," I urged.

I didn't fully understand what was happening, but I felt more confident when I was in control. Well, except for those times when she had to unleash her powers. In those cases, I was more than happy to let her handle things, but now? No. Was this the final crash of the game servers?