Following the vendor’s directions the best I could, I passed through The Commons, alternately crowded or desolate depending on the section. At last I reached what appeared to be the outskirts, with a shimmering wall segregating our area from a gleaming metropolis beyond.

There was a tunnel boring through the shining barrier. Polizei bots in head-to-toe tactical gear stood posted on either side. Was their function to keep Citizens out, or to keep Volunteers in? Or something else entirely. I decided not to find out.

Turning down a wide alley lit with floating red globes I passed by several storefront windows with humanoid figures on display. At first I thought they were photorealistic mannequins, statues, or some sort of wax figurines, but when my eyes rested on one, it sprung to life.

“Hello, gorgeous!”

A young, lithe, shirtless man in tight leather pants with chiseled abs greeted me. His voice was clearly audible despite being behind the glass partition. It was hard to peel my eyes away from him. There was something exceptional about his appearance, but I could not put my finger on it.

Hello.

“Are you looking for some companionship?” he cooed. “Being a Volunteer can be so lonely at times.”

It certainly could. But before I could respond, another voice from behind caused me to turn.

“Or perhaps I might be able to serve you instead?”

Across the alley, a woman with porcelain skin and a white negligee beckoned to me from her booth. She had a flawless hourglass figure, and her face possessed the same illusive quality as the man’s.

They are symmetrical, I realized. Perfectly symmetrical.

Thank you, but I am looking for a friend of mine. His name is Camel, or at least that’s what he goes by.

“We are companions and are not allowed to share the personal information of any of our valued customers,” the man answered, feasting on me with his piercing dark eyes. Of course, I knew that I was nothing to look at, but felt like a raw steak thrown into a lion’s cage nevertheless.

I owe him a lot of money, and I’ve come to deliver it to him if he is here.

“In that case, visit Serenity at the end of the row,” the woman offered through pouty lips and batting eyelashes. She pointed with a long finger, her pale hand adorned with bright red nails, further down the alley. “She’s his favorite.”

Before I could leave, the man spoke again.

“But if you are burdened with carrying so much money, perhaps you would enjoy some companionship after all. Our prices are reasonable, especially for first timers. Relax. Take some weight off your shoulders.”

I wish I could say I felt some stirring in my loins for either companion, but I had no loins to speak of.

Just out of curiosity, and only curiosity, how much?

“6,000 for the companionship starter package, but for you I’ll make it 5,000. An extra 3,000 to add the companionship protection plan. And if you purchase ten companionship experiences, you receive one bonus experience for free.”

Protection plan. What is that?

“Upgrading to add the protection plan to your experience guarantees a near zero risk of contracting digital syphilis.”

Shiva! Wait, what? Shiva.

I shook my head. His response was disconcerting enough, but more alarming was the fact that my mouth was not working properly. I had tried to use a common expletive beginning with the letter S, but the words did not come out the way I intended.

Shiva. Shiva? Why can’t I curse?

The woman behind me laughed in a coquettish tone.

“Don’t be silly. The Collective is a family friendly environment. The profanity filter is always in effect.”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Shiva! Frag! Mother fragger. Piece of Shiva. Son of a brick.

“Ooh, such a dirty mouth on you,” the man purred, touching a finger to his lips and shaking his head.

Mildly confused, I hastened to the end of the row, trying to avoid eye contact with the many perfectly crafted specimens on display. I reached the final two windows at the end of the alley. One was empty and unlit while the other contained a very well built man with flowing yellow hair and an unbuttoned frilly white shirt revealing a tanned and hairless chest.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

I’m looking for Serenity.

The man bowed politely and gestured across the alleyway to the unlit window.

“Serenity is entertaining another customer at the moment. But perchance I may be of some assistance to you? Is it companionship you seek?”

I’m looking for my friend Camel. I have some money to deliver to him. I was told he might be with Serenity.

“Ah, yes. Do not fret. It shan't be much longer. That particular customer never makes it past two humps. That is why they call him Camel, after all.”

A familiar voice rang out and I turned to see Camel exiting through a door, buttoning his pants, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked disheveled. Hobo chic.

“No. It’s because I never miss! How many times do I have to keep telling you lewdies?”

Camel! You’re alive!

I barely knew this person, but a feeling of warm relief washed over me. He was a familiar landmark in this unfamiliar land.

“Of course I’m alive. A lomtick of baddiwad luck with the bounty, though.”

I saw in the window display behind him a young dark-skinned woman in what could only be described as a french maid’s outfit reappear, posing with perfect stillness and waiting for her next customer.

The bounty? I collected the bounty. Or, the task reward. Your name was crossed out on the bounty boards, but I brought your share.

“Horrorshow! How did you survive? That bolshy dog came out of nowhere.”

Two other hunters showed up. They were tracking the Baskerville Hound and took it out before it could get me. I managed, barely, to get back to The Commons on my own and cash out the reward. But I don’t understand. Can you not die in the Metaverse?

“Of course you can die. But you reload at the restoration point. You lose anything you gained since you backed up your data, except for your memories of course. Those exist in your real mozg in the real world. Still hurts like a brick, though.”

But then why was your name crossed off the bounty? We completed the task.

“Just another scheme to deprive us Volunteers of hard-earned pretty polly. A loophole. It costs the Corporation to restore us, so if you read the fine print of the bounty it tells you that dying before cashing out the reward invalidates your claim. And we still have to pay the restoration fee on top of that.”

I see. What happens if you don’t have enough Crypt to cover the cost of a restoration?

“You go negative. Makes it really hard to kupet cancers or ptitsas, or whatever it is you are into.”

The idea of falling into debt in this place filled me with deep unease. Everything I had seen was already heavily monetized.

Loophole or not, I brought your share of the reward. 1,000 Crypt.

“You are a saint! A chellovecks of honor. My bank account is running low. I almost had to cancel on Serenity.”

Camel pivoted and blew a kiss to the motionless woman behind the glass. She reanimated, turning and blowing an appreciative kiss back in his direction.

How do I transfer the Crypt to you?

“Simple. Just open your menu, select the amount of Crypt you want, and drag it over to me. If you hover your rooker in the air, I’ll start to glow. Drag and drop is all.”

I tested this maneuver out and was able to successfully transfer 1,000 Crypt to Camel, which he manually accepted. I double-checked my menu to make sure it worked.

[ECONOMY

* CRYPT

* * 1070]

I wanted to see if this impacted my storage, so I opened up my Memory menu.

[MEMORY

* STORAGE

* * 187.7 of 197.7 / 210]

Sure enough, I had freed up 10 ‘metabytes’ of storage by making the transfer, which meant that Crypt was divided by 100 in terms of storage space it occupied. I would need to find a solution to prevent maxing out my storage in the future. Something to put on my list of one hundred and one mysteries of the Metaverse.

I felt something warm and wet spatter against my bald head. I closed my menus and looked up. One by one, the window displays in the Red Light district went blank. The floating red globe lanterns flickered then became dark.

Camel’s cigarette fell from his lips and vanished in a puff of pixels.

“Bog! It’s starting to rain! We need to get inside, skorry! You don't want to be loveted in this weather.”

Large pink drops of rain were coming in at an angle, almost horizontal at times. The rain grew stronger. Violent. As the droplets hit my exposed skin, it alternately felt shockingly frigid or close to boiling, as if each droplet carried its own temperature in this oblique monsoon.

Why? What’s with this rain?!

“It purges the system memory cache. Reboots the programs. Washes The Collective clean!”