It was much less a conversation than it was T.K. holding a lecture. The beginning of which I missed, the fog in my head still dissipating slowly. It wasn’t until I heard his warning, “–That’s not to say Inauris is a place devoid of dangers–” that he held my full attention.

“Wait, danger?” I said, fidgeting, “Can I die?”

"I reject any notion of afterlife that is devoid of choice or consequence," T.K. said, his visage flashing a predatory glare, but only for a fleeting moment before the man returned to a placid indifference. "The greatest of pleasures only taste as sweet when set against the bitterness of despair." he said.

“But yes, you can be injured, and as such, you can die.”

“But what will happen if I die?”

T.K. flashed me a wry smile, "Ah, again with that question? Uh–Well, in here, I can provide an answer. For those like you, death is but an intermediary step. You will simply be reborn at your starting location.”

I let loose a breath I hadn't known I was holding, "That's not to say you shouldn't avoid it at all costs." He continued, "First and foremost, it hurts. The pain and frustrations you felt on Earth in those final months are not foreign here. Second, and you would do well to remember this, while it’s true death in Inauris may be temporary, its effect on you is all too permanent.”

"What...affects?" I asked. "Corruption." He said, "Cognitive corruption, each death you experience means that your mind must then be re-built again, and such a process is never perfect.” He said.

“The A.I. prioritizes your most recent experiences when reconstructing your psyche in order to prevent further harm. Think of it as evolution through reincarnation.”

“For you now, it’s a perfect system. It ensures you start as the most pure version of yourself." He said before pausing and considering his next words. "After some time, however, you will begin to adapt to the life you lead here. If that life is violent, and you meet a violent, bitter end. Then the Brandon who returns from such a death may find himself a propensity–a desire even–for such violence.”

"If that were to happen enough times." He warned, "You may find yourself making choices that you as you are now, with your Earthly morals and beliefs, whatever they may be, would find indefensible. Actions that a new version of you may simply see as a part of life. With each subsequent death and rebirth pushing your previous life on Earth further into the background as, your mind–and very possibly, your body– is shaped and reshaped–very literally–by the choices you make in your afterlife.

The threat of what that might mean for me hung in the air between us. "As such, you may find it necessary to arm and strengthen yourself. Conversely, you may find a quiet corner for yourself and never feel the inclination to raise a finger in anger. As always, that is your decision.”

I considered his words and how likely it was that I could manage such a thing. I'd grown up during the safest time in human history, in the world's most powerful nation. Yet, I’d still found myself a world away, wearing a dingy, dusty uniform, shooting at shadows who were there one moment, then lost in a crowd of civilians the next. It seemed doubtful this place would be any more secure.

…

“What kind of things should I look out for?” I asked. "The list of flora, fauna, and environmental phenomenon able to do you harm is varied and numerous." T.K. said, dismissing the question. “It would be a frivolous effort to list them all here. Best to assume the same as on Earth: if you don't know what it is, or where it came from––don't touch, don't eat, and..." he cleared his throat with a polite cough, "...Well, you know the rest."

“What about people?” I asked, suddenly feeling very alone.

“Yes, about that.” He paused. “You see, I have not been truly forthcoming with you.” My heart sank upon hearing those words. My mind immediately filled again with a world of possibilities of what he might say next, each more horrific than the last.

“Inauris…” he said slowly, “Has been an expensive undertaking, and while it is my life’s work, that fact does nothing to soothe budgetary obligations. And, in order to make ends meet, Inauris sees…visitors come, occupy forms, and well, game here."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Game…" I asked. What in the hell could that mean?

“In short, to them, it’s a video game.”

…

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“No, you heard me right–" he said. “There are three types of beings within Inauris.” He began, “Well, four really, if you count non-sentient beasts, but I do not.”

"First, are your kind. There aren't too many, mind you, and most of those who've preceded you tend to keep to themselves. Those who don't, maybe try to avoid for now.”

I said nothing, but he had my undivided attention. "Next are the A.I. created nonplayer characters.”

“–NPCs? So, they're bots?" I said incredulously. A whole world of bots. I played enough games to understand the meaning. That sounded like hell all by itself.

T.K.'s eyes rolled back as he searched for the words, "Maybe at a time they were simple bots.” He said, speaking cautiously.

…

“But Inauris is very old…

I've built a pond…and let fish free…"

…

He cleared his throat. “Those whom you’ll meet are indistinguishable from any passerby you’ve ever known.” T.K. said with conviction. “The third–“ he said with a breath, “Are the player characters. They are those who’ve paid for the privilege to enter V.R. suites in the comfort of my climate-controlled facilities and enter Inauris.”

“Facilities?" I asked, this being the first I'd heard of such things, plural? There were multiple? "Not particularly important. All you need to know is to be weary of player characters." He said, shooing the question away. “They are playing a game. They're pretending." He said slowly, "Playing out dreams and imaginations. With that comes nightmares.”

"But each of you plays a vital role in this little ecosystem, so it can’t be helped. Simply avoid them if you wish not to involve yourself.” He said offhandedly.

“You can’t just hand wave that away.” I shot back. These were real people. "So what am I, pray to these monsters? Just part of this game they're playing?"

“No, of course not. If anything, you’re the engine that makes this whole thing work.” He said. I opened my mouth to retort, but he held his hand out before himself, upturned as if holding an invisible fruit, cutting me off. “On one hand, you have the players. They, through their subscriptions and in-game purchases, keep the lights on." He made the same gesture with his other hand, "NPCs provide the bulk of the 'gaming experience,' well them and the environments. Giving tasks, providing challenges, and offering rewards.”

Then he pointed at me, “Then, there’s you, and those like you–you provide the spark.”

T.K.'s hands fell to his side, "Through your actions, no matter how little, you change things. Prevent Inauris from becoming stale."

I didn’t know what to say. Well and truly speechless.

…

"You didn't tell me any of this before." I managed, "I don’t want to be a character in your game.”

“Then don’t be.” He replied immediately. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear. If you wish, you need not ever interact with a player. That is not necessarily your purpose. Your very existence introduces randomness that would not otherwise be there. That human touch that Inauris would be lacking in your absence. Something so simple as you buying something from a shop does just that much to keep the game from growing stale in a way the A.I. cannot seem to replicate.”

I thought for a moment, trying to process everything. Did I understand what he was telling me? I still couldn’t be sure all of this was real. “So, I’m the butterfly?”

“If you wish to be–” He said with a laugh. “–Or you can be the bee. Either way–“ a smile creased his lips, and mixing metaphors. “…You’re free.”

…

"There is but one rule I must impose on you. The others are monitored by the A.I. and needn't be mentioned here.”

“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself. "You will be restricted from speaking of the discussion we've had in this office." He said deathly serious. "Any attempts to do so will be unsuccessful and highly uncomfortable for you."

I tensed. Was that a threat? It certainly felt like one. I said nothing and nodded; it didn’t feel like a point open to discussion. “Now then– “he said as cheerily as he could manage, a clear attempt to lighten the mood. “I have been intentionally vague about what Inauris is. I think the joy of exploration will do you some good. But there is one thing I should explain.”

He dove a hand into his pocket and rummaged around for a moment before reaching out and placing a tiny, flat, paper-thin rectangle on the table before me. I leaned in as he pulled his hand back–it just looked like a SIM card? “What is this?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to touch it. "That is a blank gene card." He informed me.

"Paired with some of your genetic material and a gene reader, and you get access to your basic information. Different readers come with different additions, but they all provide the same basic benefits.”

"How do I pair it?” I asked.

“Ohh… any place that sells gene readers should have a genetic sampler to do just that. Usually for free.” He said in that tone that people use when they’re trying to politely end a conversation. “That’s all I got. I wish you the best.”

I didn't move. How could anyone just move? I had just been sitting at home, minding my own business what felt like minutes ago. And now? I was dead? Except, I wasn't, I remembered. Brandon was dead. Was I Brandon? Another Brandon? Should I mourn him? Who does that make me?

T.K. coughed, and I blinked. "Fine–" I said, I'll worry about it later. I slid the tiny silver tag off the table with a finger and slipped it into my pocket. Only just then realizing, I was still wearing the same blue basketball shorts and gray t-shirt I had on earlier––before I died. And I was barefoot…

I have only one request of you as you leave me." He said.

“A request?”

“A request, a quest, mission, favor, however you choose to define it, is your purgative.” He said, seeming annoyed… “I will send the details to your reader...when you get one.”

I shrugged; it didn’t sound like an order. But neither did I get the impression that it was something I could entirely ignore. “What type of world is Inauris?” I decided to ask before I left, figuring he owed me that much, not to have me walking into the complete unknown.

“World…?” T.K. repeated inquisitively, “No…Mr. Alder, I’m sorry, it appears you are mistaken. Inauris is not a singular world…” He seemed amused.

“Live well…” I heard him say as I blinked again, and Thomas Kane Wilbur, his office, and the statuette on the desk–disappeared.