Meg's stomach churned as she stepped through the door. All morning her stomach had tossed and turned and there was a tightness in her chest that no amount of deep breathing had been able to vanquish. If panic and anxiety weren't her normal mode of existence she might have been worried.

But Meg knew it was nothing more than first day jitters. The fathomless terror of the unknown. That little voice in the back of her head that never stopped whispering. You suck, you're a fraud, you're not special, who would want to watch a garbage gamer like you?

And its corrupting words would remain bouncing through her skull until she jumped feet first into that dreaded unknown. And then she would kick and fight and scream and somehow she would survive. And the next day it would start all over again.

She couldn't remember a time when her life had been any different. At least now she had better ways of coping with it. Now she only gave up or ran away fifty percent of the time.

"And I managed to buy groceries too," Meg said to the brown and white spotted tomcat weaving between her legs as she hauled her bags into the kitchen.

Growl, the tomcat, let out a loud meow, probably expecting a treat, but he would be disappointed. Meg set her bags on the counter and took a long breath and let it out then stripped the bags off her purchases and stuffed them into another bag that hung on the door knob of her pantry.

Growl meowed again and she let herself get distracted with petting him, only getting back on track when she remembered her dinosaur chicken nuggets needed to stay cold. She leapt back to the task at hand and made short work of putting things where they needed to go.

Growl sat on the floor, his tail twitching, and eyeballed the loaf of bread she had on the counter. She saw his butt wiggle out of the corner of her eye and twisted around to stop him as he launched himself up onto the counter.

"No eating my bread," Meg said, plucking the loaf of white bread away from him.

The tomcat watched her carry the bread over to the pantry and stack it on the top shelf. He meowed, as if to say I could reach that if I wanted to. Meg gave him a stern look to let him know if he tried he'd be in big trouble.

They both knew his punishment wouldn't last. She loved the cat far too much to ever stay mad at him. Most of the time she couldn't even manage to be frustrated by his antics.

She scooped him off the kitchen counter and carried him through the apartment to her bedroom and set him down on the bed. She looked at the messy blankets and sheets that had been her cocoon last night and wished she could crawl back into bed and snuggle with Growl.

But the game awaited her. Three days earlier than the rest of the world, except for the other streamers who'd been given similar access. Meg shoved the thought of napping aside and went to her closet and pulled open the doors.

Richer people than her had entire rooms dedicated to their virtual reality rigs but Meg kept her rig in the closet. It was an Oceania 74, designed specifically for people who needed power and had little room to house it in.

In the closet hidden behind her clothes it looked like a large alien egg attached to a folded up ironing board. Its silver body was lined with a translucent strip that glowed a pale green that reminded her too much of the Serpent's poison for her to enjoy it.

It was another thing she could add to her list of game related traumas. Along with memories of the Crystal Keep and the horrid stench of the cabbage monsters that showed up in game every Halloween.

Meg shuddered and grasped a grooved handle on the back of her rig and pulled firmly then stepped back. The rig woke up, the green light glowing brighter as it unfurled from its sleeping position.

It fell towards her in a slow descent, supported by the pneumatic frame, and came to a rest with a soft hiss. Meg bent at the knees and grabbed hold of the frame and dragged it further out of the closet until it was almost in the center of the room.

Growl looked up from his nest of cozy blankets and yawned. Meg grinned and pestered him with several quick butt rubs that he simultaneously loved and hated. She hated to leave him behind but she refused to be the kind of person who put their pet in VR.

She wanted Growl safe and lazy in her bed, not being stalked by goblin shamans and dire eagles. Anyone who subjected their animals to the craziness of VR games was, in her opinion, a monster.

"No questing for you mister," Meg said.

Growl responded by dropping his head to the blanket and closing his eyes. She wished him sweet dreams and went back to her rig. She walked around to the rear of the egg and double checked her power coupling and her wireless connection then ran a diagnostic on the safety functions.

Everything was running properly but she ran the diagnostic a second time. The last thing she wanted was to be electrocuted in front of a live audience. When she was satisfied there were no anomalies she walked back to the front of the egg and put her hand over a twelve inch display.

A green light ran up and down the screen and when it identified her hand print it came to life. GOOD AFTERNOON MEG, IT IS TUESDAY, MAY SEVENTEENTH, TWELVE THIRTY PM. THE TEMPERATURE OUTSIDE IS SEVENTY THREE DEGREES, YOUR APARTMENT IS SIXTY NINE DEGREES. YOUR PULSE IS…

"Skip introductions," Meg said.

The egg cut off mid sentence which always made her feel rude but she didn't care about the temperature or her basic health stats. "How may I assist you?" The egg said.

"Has Tattered Realms installed?" She said.

"Tattered Realms was installed successfully on March twenty fifth, 2063."

Meg frowned. "Has Tattered Realms: Defenders of the Golden Age installed successfully?"

"It was installed successfully on May 17th, at ten fifteen this morning."

"Bring up my stream," she said.

"Do you wish to go live?" Egg said.

"Not yet," Meg said.

On the display screen a window appeared and with a soft hum the egg projected it into the air in front of her. Her streaming profile listed her latest statistics but she ignored them. They would be screwed up for at least a week after the release of the game and then she would spend days obsessing over them and trying to figure out if she could pay rent for the month.

Or maybe things would go smoothly and everyone would love her latest playthrough. Maybe the newcomers would be so impressed they would subscribe and buy as much of her merch as they could get.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She shook her head at the thought. Streaming was never smooth sailing. There were always a million little fires to put out, three million viewers to please and trolls to ignore. Views dropped, engagement sagged, fans decided she had changed or sold out, some stopped by and claimed she was using boobs to distract from real streamers, even though they couldn't see her boobs.

And if the audience wasn't in a state of turmoil the platform was giving her problems or sponsorships dropped out or her landlord was complaining about her power usage even though she paid triple what everyone else did to compensate for the strain on her building's system.

"Nope, we are not doing this Growl," Meg said. "I don't care about all of that. Today is for me. I'm going to play the game and enjoy it."

Growl was too busy sleeping to respond.

"Show me chat," Meg said. The projection in front of her flickered and showed her chat page and she stared for a long time in silence at the number of active chatters.

On any given stream she had anywhere between two and a half million to three million people in chat and watching. Today she had twenty seven million. Fifteen million of them were active in chat.

She tried following the conversation but gave up immediately. It was impossible to keep up with the river of text flowing down the screen. Her stomach roiled and she looked back at the bed. She could always fake sick and wait until after the release to stream.

She swallowed hard and said "Show me Dorian's chat."

The projection flickered again and her friend's chat took center stage. Dorian had only been streaming for two years but due to his skilled play and collaboration with Meg he had reached an impressive one million followers with about eight hundred thousand tuning in on any given stream. Today however his numbers had exploded and ten million people were clogging up his chat.

"Message Dorian," Meg said. "Hey D, I see your chat is crazy too."

"Message sent," Egg said.

Half a second later the screen filled with a phone icon and Meg answered it, half expecting it to be about her car's extended warranty.

Dorian's face filled the screen and Meg smiled and waved to him. "Yo Meg this is insane," he said. "I can't even keep track of chat."

"I know. Mine is a word river right now. I'll let it go for four hours then switch to subscriber mode."

"That's a good idea," Dorian said.

"Make sure you tell them before you do it," she said. "You might get some of the new faces to sign up, even if it is just for a few days that is good money."

"Your wisdom is infinite," he said, winking at her.

She smiled and shrugged. "More like haunted by the ghost of poverty," she said.

On the inside Meg cringed. Why did she always have to bring up awkward stuff like that? She could just take the compliment like a normal person but nooooo. Her brain had to scramble for a comeback and blurt out something self deprecating everytime.

If it bothered Dorian he didn't let it show. He smiled through the screen, thin faced and hard jawed, his tan skin at odds with his long surfer blond hair. Looking at him made her feel uneasy sometimes. Like she wasn't good enough to share a screen with him.

"Did you want to run together?" Dorian said.

Meg blushed and shook her head no then remembered she had to talk. "I want to ease into this. But I promise when I've got my bearings I'll let you know."

"Cool beans brother," Dorian said, his smile brightening the screen. "I'm playing a Zhanglao archer so I'll be starting out in the Forest of Contemplation. I think you can use transport stones at level ten this time around but if you need help I'll travel."

"Nice choice," Meg said. "I haven't figured out what race I'm playing yet so I don't know where I'm starting yet. But if you need me I'll travel too."

"So you're really doing this?" Dorian said. "Flying by the seat of your pants and going with the flow."

Her stomach rose up and tumbled back down sending a wave of self doubt and anxiety up her spine. She nodded and realized she was holding her breath and let it out.

"I'm going to be lady immersion," she said, forcing herself to smile. "I just hope my audience doesn't abandon me for it."

"I think you're going to be fine," he said. "I haven't been doing this as long as you but I think most of our audience is here because they like us more than our high level of play."

"I hope so because I'm about to spend my time buying and selling random objects," she said.

Dorian laughed and glanced off screen. "I've gotta get ready to log in," he said. "Have a good stream!"

Meg waved back at him and the call disconnected. The projection returned to Dorian's chat and she had the egg take her back to her own page.

The numbers were steady. Chat was still insane and she had three messages from her moderators. She read them quickly and then called them all into a group chat.

"Oh thank the heavens Meg," her lead moderator, BitWilly, said. "our estimates were way off!"

"Yeah this is nuts," Meg said. "You guys are doing great though. Are there any major issues?"

BitWilly's anime girl icon flashed with light as he spoke. "A lot of old timers are clashing with the new people. Some are acting like rule lawyers, we are trying to go easy on everyone but we've had to time several hundred out for an hour."

Meg thought about it and nodded. "Things are going to be crazy for a few days but the numbers will taper off soon and be more manageable. In the meantime keep timing the major offenders out, try and keep track of them so we can nip any trolls and asshats in the bud. Don't kill yourselves either, take it one situation at a time and remember to be nice even when they aren't. Oh and make sure you take your breaks."

"I was thinking we could deputize some of our old timers. The ones who can reinforce our ethics without being jerks about it," BitWilly said.

"That's a great idea," Meg said. "give them soft access though and make it clear that they aren't getting full mod privileges. And let them know I can't pay them but I'll find a way to reward them for their time. And it probably won't make a difference but blast our list of rules into the chat every ten minutes."

"You might want to make a statement before you start as well," BitWilly said.

"I'll do my best to help you all out," Meg said. "And Bit, if somebody needs to be banned I trust your judgement."

"Hey Meg, what if these numbers don't go down?" BitWilly said.

Meg shivered at the thought. "I guess we'll have to increase the team's pay and start looking to expand. By the way is the hate bot operating?"

BitWilly's response was immediate. "It's been running since the chat hit a hundred active participants."

"Good job," Meg said. "Make sure they know it is active. If the bot gives you a name don't play around. Throw em out. And we'll jump to subscriber only mode after the four hour mark. "

"Business as usual," BitWilly said.

Meg took a breath and exhaled heavily. "Sorry for micromanaging you. I'm a little nervous about today."

"Take a deep breath and let it go," BitWilly said. "we'll handle the chat and the hate bot will handle the misogynist racists. You just enjoy the game."

She smiled. She wished it was that easy. Just flip a switch and poof! All her anxiety and intrusive obsessive thoughts would disappear. If only.

"Thanks," she said. "Everyone do their best and don't hesitate to message me if you need something."

"Have a good dive," BitWilly said.

There was a chorus of goodbyes and encouragement from the other moderators as they all signed off and the room was silent once again.

Meg looked around her room, glanced at the bed and her slumbering feline then at the clock on her bedside table. She couldn't waste any more time, no matter how nervous she was. She shook her arms and wiggled her fingers, worked the tension out of her limbs and spoke to her rig. "Prepare for entry."

"Beginning preparations now," Egg replied "the process will be complete in twenty seconds."

Meg pulled her sun dress up over her head and dumped it on the floor then slid off her underwear and removed her bra. She made a neat pile out of her clothes and left them at the foot of her bed. The air conditioning washed over her skin and she shivered.

As she waited she caught sight of her reflection in the egg's outer casing and hated it. She was a small woman, barely five feet tall, with pale reddish brown skin, and thick black hair that was forever caught between tangles and curls. She had large doe eyes just like her mother, except hers were brown instead of blue and above them were a pair of thick black eyebrows that would try to grow into one fuzzy Caterpillar if she let them.

She had her mother's freckles across her face and chest as well and her father's high round cheekbones and small wide nose.

In her mind she looked like a mutt. An ugly dark mixture of her Thai father and California blonde mother. No matter what she did it seemed to her she could never reach her mother's girl next door beauty. What beauty she did possess was a rough kind that bordered on the masculine. She could thank her father for that.

At least in the game she could choose how she looked. It was another reason she loved it so much.

Meg's eyes drifted past her neckline to the rest of her body but before her inner critic could eviscerate her any further she pulled her eyes away from her reflection and focused on the open closet beyond the egg.

"Entry preparation is complete," Egg said.

With a soft hiss the egg trembled and split open. The top half rose slowly on a hinge and revealed a deep body of blue and green gel made up of billions of nano machines. It had been years since her father had explained the process to her but she knew that once they came in contact with her skin they could put her anywhere, any time, as long as there was a program to pull from.

She walked to the edge of the egg and swung her leg over the side and climbed into the gel. A chill ran up her spine and then it faded as the nanomachines adapted to her core temperature.

She turned and faced her bed then eased herself backwards, half sitting and half laying down. And then the gel was over her head and everything was blue. A faint trickle of electricity teased her bare skin and she giggled. "Begin dive," Meg said. "Run program Tattered Realms:Defenders of the Golden Age."

Through the blue and green haze above her she saw the lid close and darkness engulfed her. Meg shut her eyes and felt the gel take her in its embrace.

Now there was no egg. No gel or the silence of her bedroom. There was only the dark and when her rig spoke to her next the voice formed in her mind.

"Do you wish to activate your live protocol?" Egg said.

"Game feed only," she said, cringing at the thought of them seeing her in the gel.

"Live feed activated. Tattered Realms:Defenders of the Golden Age will begin in five seconds"

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