Jack looked at himself on the screen. Black hair, thick-eyebrows, brownish eyes, and lightly tanned skin. A sharp jaw and white teeth all across, albeit some of them not actually his. A few scars here and there, one across his right eyebrow and the other from his chin to the ends of his lips, but it was nothing too disfiguring. A British-Arab descent, if Jack remembered correctly. It always surprised Jack to see himself as handsome after a shave and cut. He then nodded and made funny faces at himself.

It was bafflingly odd to look at such a youthful face as his. Jack's age was at around 24 years old, but considering he had been diving into the virtual world at a time ratio of 4 to 1 since he was 13 years old, his real age was approximately in the 50s.

He washed off and ordered the capsule to fetch him his old training outfit.

As a Rank E, Jack’s personal space consisted only of his capsule--a one meter wide and two meters tall machine that contained everything that required to sustain the life of a human being. It contained a shower and toilet, which through a process the capsule performs that few human beings were a particular fan of, allowed him to empty his bowels while he was in dive mode. It also ejected nutritions directly in his blood vessels and periodically messaged his muscles to prevent deterioration, and is even capable of pumping blood in the case of heart failures. Effectively, it allowed permanent dive maintenance.

It also retrieved training uniforms for physical reality training-- something very few rankers actually bothered with after the age of 13-- from the storage room via a complex network in the rare cases it is to be requested, and in Jack’s case, also allowed the storage of a particular set of clothing. Few rank E’s actually allocated their funds to buying useless commodities such as outfits beyond the standard one, but Jack’s case, as it always tended to be, was a slightly more special one.

With a few clicks and buzzes a uniform was dropped from the hatch on top. Briefs, tight black shorts and a short-sleeved shirt dropped to the ground. The wires attached to his spines broke off, and Jack bent down with difficulty to put on his clothes. The uniform was plain but stuck to the skin comfortably and provided enough defenses to deflect a blade, which was basically required when sparring with Hound. Or hugging her. Or talking with her.

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Jack though, was quite daring. Everything below his knees and to his shoulders was naked. He did not fetch his facemask either, nor a riot shield. He would wrestle the beast with his own hands.

Jack paused and looked at his hands.

Well, maybe not that far.

With a few clicks, a pair of black gloves came out. Two yellow stripes ran down each glove. They stretched a few inches after his wrist.

The glass door swung open, and with a deep breath, Jack stepped out of the capsule.

The lights came on, illuminating thousands upon thousands of similar capsules lined up in perfect order. They stretched for as long as the eyes can see. There were no walls in between them, as that would have costed precious resources.

The hallway was wide, about 5 meters wide, and had two-way train tracks, both on the ground and on the ceiling. The capsules around him spoke then.

Attention, a transport vehicle is arriving. Please do not cross the red line.

Jack did not cross the red line. As stubborn as Jack was, he made sure to not cross the red line. His being urged him to cross the red line, but Jack did not cross the red line. Sometimes you had to pick and choose your fights.

Jack spotted the train a distance off, only a dot’s size. In the next breath, it blinked to his position.

Jack closed his eyes, brought his arms to cover them, and braced himself. This was his favorite moment. Some people avoid it what’s by jumping into the mini bullet train in a hurry, but as that was not graceful, Jack instead chooses to enjoy it.

The wind caught up in great vigor. It whipped Jack hard enough for his skin to wobble and for his muscles to quiver, yet still, he did not yield. He planted his soles against the cool ground with all of his strength. His quads shook but held. His hair nearly flew off before the wave died off.

Feeling quite refreshed, Jack ruffled his hair back into position and jumped into the train. It only consisted of the head, and only had space for two passengers.

He placed his hands over the control pad and imputed his coordinates. A screen was lowered from above and had requested Jack to look straight at it. Jack did so and allowed the blinker to flash across his eyes.

Clearance Obtained. Six minutes and 35 seconds until destination.

The bullet train fired. Jack sat down and bide his time. There was nothing to do, really. Everything passed by in an incompressible blur. He could not even entertain himself with the sounds of the engine, as there was no engine. Engines no longer exist in fact, as thirty years ago new technology allowed The Federalization to create even smaller nuclear reactors than previously before, rendering the engine obsolete. Jack was literally sitting on a missile.

The novelty of it died off 10 years ago. How slow the time passed.