Where am I?
Darkness. Memories played at the edges, unfocused and distant. The slick touch of hospital sheets. Machines beeping. The prick of needles. People sobbing. An electric shock shot through him, spurring on a rapid thrumming which echoed through the black.
Am I dead? My body. Where’s my body?
An experimental flex caused a flush to run across his face, down his back, then out his limbs as if a disconnect between his body and brain had suddenly fixed itself.
A tinny female voice sounded in his head.
BODY INITIALIZED
WELCOME TO REBIRTH
What?
As if in answer, large, stylized gold words appeared in front of his face. Smaller sapphire letters spelled out more below the gold.
REBIRTH: MYTHS AND MAGIC
Let your imagination soar!
Knowledge flowed in, thoughts whizzing by in a blur. Realization dawned, bringing with it a bitter truth. Oh, of course. Rebirth was a program built to house the consciousnesses of those who died. A digital afterlife. So, I’m dead. The thought didn’t bring the expected sadness. In fact, it brought with it hardly any emotion at all. Not too surprising. Rebirths are initialized with acceptance of their deaths. Still, who was I?
The hospital room materialized again, clearer this time. Somewhat.
There were stark white walls and smooth, hard floors. Bright, rectangular lights shone overhead. People huddled around a hospital bed, begging and crying with featureless, fuzzy faces. Not just their faces, but all of them were there, yet not, more impressions than human beings. But none of that tells me who I am.
He pushed the memory away and tried again. A sharp stab pierced his skull.
REBIRTH USER DATA CLOSED
PLEASE CONTACT ADMIN FOR FURTHER INQUIRIES
Great.
User data could be open, allowing Rebirths access to their previous life, or closed, denying all identifying information while leaving basic knowledge intact. Closed data was usually reserved for those who died or lived in such a way it would damage their ability to adjust. Like dying slowly, or with a lot of guilt.
That made him even more curious about his previous life, but any attempts to remember would be met with more warnings and more zaps. No thank you, that hurt. But, if I can’t know who I was, then I need to figure out who I am.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Right on cue, the digital voice piped up again.
CHARACTER DATA INITIALIZED
PLEASE VIEW CHARACTER SHEET NOW
View… character sheet? As soon as the thought formed, a blurry, pale silver rectangle with gold edges popped into existence.
Whoa! He jerked back, smacking the back of his head on something hard. The rectangle swung with him, sticking in the center of his sight.
PLEASE CHECK FOR ERRORS.
IF ERRORS ARE PRESENT, PLEASE CONTACT ADMIN
He frowned. Ouch. I wonder if I should contact the admins, at least about how painful their character creation is.
He focused in on the floating silver screen. The blurriness vanished, replaced by a readout of stats that covered most of the rectangle. Tabs, various icons on each, lined the top. The gold edging morphed into fine filigree knotwork.
Not exactly breaking the mold for UI, but kind of pretty. The title sounded like a fantasy game, so let’s hope I’m something better than human.
His eyes scanned across the top line of info. Name is blank. Gender… male… race… no way! He read it again, but the words, as improbable as they seemed, didn’t change.
RACE: Dragon (Tier 1)
Being a dragon sounded incredible, although he knew plenty of digital worlds took liberties with what ‘dragon’ meant, and not all of them were good. Tier 1, though, that was consistent among all of them.
Tier 1 meant the top, the most powerful among all other players in the same category. If Dragon was the top race, maybe his dream of being a fire-breathing behemoth was about to become a reality. Of course, getting a Tier 1 race in Rebirth servers practically cost your family their souls.
How much money did my family have? Electricity jolted through his skull. Oww! Fine, whatever. If I’m a Tier 1 Dragon, I should have some equally elite stats.
The stat readout wasn’t breaking any conventions, either, with floating black stat names followed by numbers.
LEVEL: 0 XP: 0 (100)
HEALTH: 60 ESSENCE: 60
AGILITY: 10 MANA: 11
STRENGTH: 12 FOCUS:11
The numbers weren’t exactly awe-inspiring, but he was level zero, after all. I guess I should be happy my stats aren’t zero, as well. Looks like a pretty even spread, actually. Not that I know how it stacks up. He could probably bring up some sort of help menu if he wanted to, but at the moment he was more interested in the tabs along the top of the UI.
The tab for the character sheet sported a shiny blue C. There were five others, all with their own icon. A retro-style brown backpack, a silver chestplate, a pile of gold coins, a flexing arm, and an analog clock. Three of the icons looked dull and washed out. An attempt at focusing on the backpack brought up nothing, proving his theory. They were greyed out. The clock, however, was just as shiny as the C, and his interest brought up a new page.
The word TIMERS stood at the top of the rectangle in flowing black and gold font. Below it, a single entry counted down.
HATCHING: 0:05:41
Hatching, huh? I guess that makes sense. I am a dragon. Doesn’t take long, either. He stared at the numbers ticking away. His mouth went dry. I don’t know anything about where I came from, and I don’t know anything about this world. I really am a newborn. For reasons he couldn’t pin down, that was horrifying.
By the time the countdown hit zero, the jackhammering of his heart sounded like war drums in the darkness.
HATCHING INITIATED.
A crack sounded above his head, a jagged line of light snaking through the walls holding him.
He ground his teeth together. Here we go.