I tagged the man in the cart:

Kontor - Level 2

He was a dwarf, a young adult with brown hair that became a two-pronged beard of braids. I stepped up beside the cart and began to examine the knots in the ropes that tied his hands and feet.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” I told him.

Cuby stepped up pulled out her knife. “Stay still!” she said cheerily.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a few deep breaths. “They caught me early this morning, when I went out to gather herbs. I didn’t know that today would be initialization. It’s… it’s really happened, hasn’t it?”

“Yup!” Cuby said. “Bad luck, that. But hey: now we can take you back home!”

The dwarf rose out of the cart, rubbed his wrists, then began to stretch. “Yes,” he said. “The town I’m from is called Oromar’s Bastion. It’s not far, but the mountains are treacherous and I don’t know how many more of the cultists there may be.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but was distracted by a system message:

Quest Unlocked: Rescue the Sacrifice

Objective: Escort Kontor back to Oromar’s Bastion.

Reward: Iron-Clasped Belt of Magic Resistance, Iron-Clasped Belt of Physical Resistance, or Iron-Clasped Belt of Psychic Resistance

It was funny to see Cuby go a little slack-jawed and seem to focus on nothing in particular out of the corner of my eye as she got the same quest. I accepted it, then said: “Nice to meet you, Kontor. I’m Alatar, and this is Cuby.”

I held out a hand, and Cuby sniggered a little. “He can read your name tag, Alatar.”

But Kontor clasped my hand firmly. “Kontor,” he said. “Good to meet you both as well, Alatar—though in these circumstances that’s probably obvious.”

Cuby eyed our clasping hands with—I wasn’t sure. Suspicion? Envy? Simple curiosity? The handshake was strange to her, that was clear. Then she smiled and asked: “Which way, Kontor?”

He nodded back along the little gorge.

“Hm,” said Cuby. “Let’s climb out and take a path less open to ambush—without the cart to pull, there’s no need to stick to this path.”

“Good idea,” Kontor said.

“First, though, we’ve got to loot,” said Cuby.

I blinked. I’d almost forgotten. Only the cultist was my loot, so as Cuby shucked the demonstones of their unwanted corpses, I went to examine the cultist. I’d been hoping for some robes, but no dice: instead I found something else interesting.

You receive:

Uncommon Equipment - Ceremonial Athame

A dagger used in dark ritual magic. Killing a creature with this dagger will restore a small amount of Mana or Stamina.

Weapon Level: 2

You receive:

Common Equipment - Wooden Torch

A simple torch. Set it alight and it will burn for 1 hour.

I took the torch, then materialized the athame. “Say, Cuby—this any good for you?”

She took the dagger, then I saw her eyes widen as she must have tagged it. “Why, hello,” she said, her smile devious. “A little more damage, but that’s a nice special ability. Thanks, Alatar.”

“No problem,” I said. “Don’t forget me when you chance upon a staff that summons meteors, or whatever.”

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She laughed. “Okay, Kontor—while we move, you can tell us everything you know about where you live,” she said. “And the geography around here. And what you do. And anything you know about this ladder season. Speaking of—did you get something called “Virtue”, Alatar?”

“Hm?” I asked.

“In your character pane.”

“Oh,” I said. The button for it wasn’t flashing, but I could see a system message:

For rescuing someone in peril, your Virtue has increased by 5.

I opened my character pane. Sure enough, a new entry for my virtue was visible, and it read 5—right above another stat:

Virtue Rank: 0

“It’s a good deed tracker, I guess.”

“I have no idea what this means,” said Cuby. “I’ve never heard of it. Must be a part of the ladder season.”

We set out, climbing up the same slope we’d charged down at the start of battle. As we went, I asked: “So, I have a vague idea already, but what’s a ladder season?”

Cuby laughed. “Oh, Alatar—the upload really scrambled your circuitry, didn’t it?”

Kontor blinked at this. “Upload?”

“Nevermind,” Cuby told him. “A ladder season is a contained part of the Colosseum, a fresh new game that begins with everyone at level 1. When the season is done, we merge with the rest of the Colosseum in the un-laddered world. But for now, we’re all locked to this world.”

“Okay,” I said. “How long is the season?”

She shrugged. “Depends. Time can run different on the inside than the outside, but the Colosseum accepts new entries for a ladder season for one half year, then moves to a new season.”

“Can new players join after the season has started?”

“Definitely,” she said. “There are even some catch-up mechanics, though it’s unlikely they’ll ever make it to top of the ladder. Anyway, each season has its own gimmicks—this one looks like its got something to do with a new stat or experience type for virtue.”

“Sounds simple enough,” I said. “Maybe we get vice for killing people and stealing things?”

“I hope not,” said Cuby. “Unless whatever bonus vice gives is strong. I mean, it’ll probably be easier to build up than virtue.”

I laughed uneasily. Kontor seemed to shift minutely, walking a little closer to me from where he stood between us.

“So how about you, Kontor?” I asked, trying to change the subject. “You were here before initialization?”

“Careful,” said Cuby. “NPCs can only say so much about the game and the world outside. It’s supposed to be immersive, mind you.”

Kontor sighed. “That’s true, but his question is fine—we all existed before initialization. Or rather, initialization happened to contain our entire existence up to this point, including all our ancient history. You might say that we came into being moments ago with fully formed memories and families, relationships and aspirations, but I don’t believe this.” He shrugged, made an uncertain motion with one hand. “The memories, the families are all real: even if I only think I once was a child who grew up in Oromar’s Bastion, even if that was implanted in me just this morning along with my whole sense of self, how could that make those memories not real? You are not experiencing anything but this moment, and every line back to your past is simply something you see in the here and now: it is the same with me.”

“Huh,” said Cuby. “So it never happened, but you just act like it did.”

“Ah… sort of,” Kontor said uneasily.

But I was thinking about this, frowning. I’d gone to bed last night in Minneapolis. I’d been avoiding thinking about it, focusing on what was happening now in front of me—but Kontor’s small speech had made it unavoidable. As wild as it seemed, I couldn’t help try to piece together what I’d learned in a way that explained what was going on.

Only I didn’t like the answer that these puzzle pieces seemed to point to. And I needed more information.

“Say, Cuby,” I began. “Why were you so interested in coming to the Colosseum? You said you’d wanted this for a while.”

“Are you kidding?” she said. “Why wouldn’t I? Who doesn’t want to come compete to become immensely powerful beings that live forever in a world like this? I mean, the Colosseum is the center of our whole civilization. It’s the seed from which the Taxin El grew the entire hierarchy!”

A horrible, sinking feeling began overtaking my gut. I didn’t know a lot about the Hierarchy of El—but from the name alone, I wasn’t sure I’d like what I saw if I learned more. If the seed from which the entire hierarchy had grown was a video game made by speciesist humans who considered themselves the rightful masters of the galaxy, I couldn’t imagine it was the nicest place to live.

And that was the other thing. There was no real avoiding the obvious truth, at this point:

I had to be in the future.

It was the only thing that made reasonable sense to me, even if it didn’t make sense: this game, made with extraordinary technology, was a simulation made by advanced humans to give a retro-style 21st century gaming experience—you know, sort of like the movie The Artist, but for space racists who liked D&D.

Well then.

I’d take a simpler, more sane sounding explanation as soon as it presented itself. Until then, I had to figure out how I got here. And I had to acknowledge one more thing:

It didn’t look like I’d be going back anytime soon.