It was a bright, sunny day in Tucson, Arizona and Nestor Banks was on his way to a job interview when he was nearly killed. He wasn't really interested in the job anyway. He was going mostly to humor his thesis advisor.
The address was just off campus so he had decided to walk despite the heat. He ran two marathons a year, so the exertion wasn't an issue, and he wanted time to read. An acquaintance from his internship over last summer had written an introductory textbook that mostly covered relativistic kinematics, quantization of energy, and atomic and molecular structure. It was surprisingly funny. His attention was deep in the book as he flipped an old butterfly. It was worn and dull and mostly just a fidget toy after years of use.
He was so focused he nearly missed some incompetent delivery driver that almost ran him over in a crosswalk. The big black van swerved at the last moment with a squeal of brakes and slammed into some pole halfway down the block. It looked like the driver might have been thrown from the vehicle.
Their fault for not wearing a seat belt, it was too hot to be standing around waiting to file some statement, so he just kept walking. Surely someone else would be along in a minute or two and call it in.
The address turned out to be one of those nondescript, faux adobe office complexes built sometime in the 2000s. That just confirmed his suspicion that this was going to be some dead-end Defense contractor job. Defense projects could have big budgets, but cash runs out. He needed a job where he could publish his results and build the kind of reputation that brings its own funding.
The office suite turned out to be in a single-story building at the back of the complex. It looked like the kind of building where he would expect to find a dentist's office. Maybe it was a temporary rental just for these interviews. His expectations lowered even further. Worse, it could be some hopeless AI or VR startup that would try to bind him in NDAs and waste his talent solving worthless problems.
Through the tinted glass, he could see a small reception area with a few awkward chairs, magazines on a table, and a bored receptionist behind a desk. He almost turned around right then, but he decided to see it through, just so that he could tell Dr. Garza that he had kept the appointment.
As he opened the door, he felt a blast of air conditioning, otherwise he didn't feel anything unusual, but the room where his foot landed looked nothing like the waiting room he had seen through the window. A bald man in a brown suit sat behind a desk with a single empty chair facing him. The rest of the room was a stark white so perfect that Nestor couldn't see where the walls met the floor or ceiling.
He immediately stepped back out and looked again at the glass office front. He saw the same waiting room and now the receptionist, obviously some projection, seemed to be looking at him with a puzzled expression.
Nestor sighed. So it was some VR or Augmented Reality startup afterall. Disappointing, although the projection technology seemed impressive, at least. He decided he was going to have to have a frank conversation with Dr. Gaza. He just couldn't spend his time on these frivolous distractions. He wouldn't put it in so many words because he knew how it would sound, but he had known since a young age that he had a special destiny, and he wasn't about to let small minded thesis advisors or anyone else get in his way.
He stepped in the room and strode straight to the desk, ignoring how his feet made no sound at all, increasing the illusion of endless space around him. He wasn't going to give whoever this would-be PT Barnum was, the satisfaction of acknowledging his tricks.
The man rose as he approached, extending a hand over the desk to shake. "Mr. Banks, so glad you could meet. I'll be handling your onboarding." The interviewer's suit looked overly simplified when viewed more closely. The buttons were just bumps in the same surface as the suit itself. Even the man's skin was a little too smooth and perfect. Not very convincing and really not that well done, even considering the unusually effective projected 3D. The animation was possibly better than average from the small amount they had shown so far, but still not the best he had seen.
"Introductions usually work both ways." Nestor ignored the offered hand, and didn't sit in the chair. "Isn't it a little premature to be talking about onboarding? I haven't accepted a position yet. In fact, you haven't even offered me one. Just to set expectations appropriately, I'm here on the recommendation of my thesis advisor. He didn't share any details."
The man put his hand away, but his smile didn't change. "You may call me Bob. I apologize for this makeshift space. As you might expect, this is not our standard approach, so we had to put something ad-hoc together to meet you here."
As he had suspected, a temporary rental just for interviews. Maybe he could cut them some slack for the poor VR. He decided to sit down and at least hear the pitch.
The man nodded and sat as well. There was a single folder on his desk which he now opened. "Nestor, a propitious name. Were you named for the great warrior and sage Nestor of Gerenia?"
"I was named for my great uncle who established our family fortune. He was a smuggler and a drunk."
"Pity. Regardless, you have an impressive CV – top of your class, interned at CERN, a special interest in high-energy physics, but well rounded in the Humanities. And you are an endurance athlete which means your body isn't hopeless for a randomly evolved baseline." He turned a page. "I also see that, after one brutal loss, you decisively won two later schoolyard fights, and managed several acts of petty retribution against classmates and teachers with no consequences to yourself, not even suspicion."
That was a much more thorough background check than he had been expecting, even for a Defense position. That implied this was even worse, an Intelligence agency job. There was no way he was going to be bound by all that nonsense. "Dr. Garza didn't mention–"
"My apologies again. I should have clarified, you won't be making the appointment your advisor arranged. Don't worry, it would have bored you anyway, just a potential breakthrough in nuclear medicine. It might save thousands of lives, but it will never win you the kind of recognition you crave. Hardly anything in this world would. What if I could offer you something new. Something unexpected?"
Nestor bristled. He could not tolerate being spoken down to, especially not by whatever government or more likely government contractor flunky was running this pathetic pantomime. "You may think you know me." He waved at the folder to dismiss it. "But I assure you that you do not, and I believe this conversation is finished." He stood, or at least, he tried to, but nothing happened.
There was no sense of strain, he wasn't tied or glued to anything, and he had no sensation of numbness, so it didn't feel like the man had drugged him somehow. Still he refused to give the man the satisfaction of looking alarmed. "Don't be ridiculous, let me go now. If you know anything about me you know my family will–"
"Your family will mourn the loss, but probably not all that much, wouldn't you agree? You have cost them quite a bit covering up your messes so far. This will be your chance to make up for all of that, serve a higher purpose."
Nestor was really coming to dislike this man. He had interrupted him twice, and now it seemed he was actually trying to blackmail him. It was embarrassing. "Bob. I will say this once. Let me leave here now or there will be consequences."
"Consequences! Good. Actions. Reactions. Inevitability. That's what we're doing here, you, and I, setting the wheels in motion. I've kept you here long enough. I had to spend some attention cleaning up some of that mess with your near miss today, but we're ready now to move on to introducing you to your new world."
"That pathetic assassination attempt was you? Did you think you could frighten me into agreeing to your terms?"
"Unfortunately we do have to make some allowances for free will. I assure you the intent was not to frighten you." The man stood up and the desk vanished, as did Nestor's chair.
He found himself standing beside the man, facing a glowing blue oval which seemed to hang, unsupported in the middle of the room. It glowed a disturbing blue color like Cherenkov radiation.
"This is the exit," the man said. "I can't make you step through. Know that if you do, there is no going back." The man stepped through himself, disappearing on the other side.
Nestor sighed at the theatrics. Maybe Dr. Garza hadn't realized he was sending him to meet with this Bob, but there had obviously been some sort of leak of his private information. He would accept the blame himself for not vetting this offer more carefully before coming, but, he was going to have to ask for a new Thesis advisor, this was just not acceptable.
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He stepped forward, and found himself standing on the side of a mountain looking down at a beautiful valley where a village of thatched huts surrounded a larger central structure. He could smell the woodsmoke and feel the chill of the air on his skin. Every tuft of moss and blooming flower was clear to the tiniest detail. The man, Bob, was nowhere to be seen. Just as he might expect from a PT Barnum, he had fooled Nestor with an egress.
Suddenly a message appeared, green on a black background.
[WELCOME ADVENTURER]
It tracked his head movement, but when he moved his eyes around it stayed still.
The menu was semi transparent, so he could see that two bearded men were hiking toward him from the village. They wore long tunics and carried swords. One carried a short spear. They didn't look like reenactors. The tips and edges were metal, and from the way they came up the steep path, they were incredibly fit.
For the first time today, Nestor felt a deep sense of dread. This was so much worse than he had imagined. He had been prepared to deal with some Defense or tech company or even an intelligence agency, but this was completely unexpected. Dr. Garza had sent him to some boring med-tech meeting, and he had been hijacked by the worst possible sort of predators, a game company with delusions of grandeur.
The menu changed.
[Nestor Banks, please pick a starting class.]
[1. Fighter
2. Wizard
3. Rogue
4. Cleric
5. Crafter]
He tried to swipe the menu away but it stayed.
The approaching men saw him wave. The one with a sword responded by sprinting faster up the path.
The one with a spear, planted his feet and threw like an olympic champion. It flew true, straight, and fast.
It cut a deep groove out of the right side of Nestor's stomach.
[WARNING: You have taken significant damage. You should rest and heal.]
[Please pick a starting class.]
[1. Fighter
2. Wizard
3. Rogue
4. Cleric
5. Crafter]
It hurt more than anything Nestor had ever experienced. He doubled over in pain, gripping his side hard to try to staunch the bleeding. He fell to his knees. His pulse pounded in his face and the wound all at once. He found it hard to raise his head to watch his attackers approach, but forced it up anyway.
They had slowed now that he wasn't getting away.
Many things went through his mind. This wasn't ultrasonic haptics, it wasn't direct electrical stimulation of nerves. He could feel the ragged edges of the wound beneath his fingers, and he could feel internal damage. He could feel the blood warm on his hand. Given the evidence, he had to assume that this was a real wound. Given that the wound was real, the weapon that had inflicted it had to be real and the two men approaching had to be capable of inflicting even more damage.
Maybe this was some kind of over the top combat training simulation, but the technology was a generation or more beyond anything he had encountered. It didn't really matter. This was a very specific instance of the simulation question. Do we live in a simulation? Was he in a simulation now? When faced with a simulation indistinguishable from reality it made no sense to even ask the question.
The only question that mattered right now was what to do next? The two men were nearly to him, and they had drawn their swords.
The spear had not traveled far, he could possibly pick it up and try to defend himself, but his opponents were obviously skilled and experienced at this kind of fighting. He had just a few self defense classes he had taken for an elective. Maybe the heads-up display was for some kind of augmentation system that could teach him to use the spear or move his body for him, but there was no way to know without picking something.
[Please pick a starting class.]
[1. Fighter
2. Wizard
3. Rogue
4. Cleric
5. Crafter]
"Wizard." If he had to pick something he should pick something with the potential to be useful for more than the next few minutes.
[Your new class comes with a new ability, Spellcasting. Would you like to learn how to cast a spell? (Y/N)]
"Yes, just get on with it." It looked like it wasn't going to matter what he chose. He had less than a minute before they reached the small ledge where he was bleeding out.
[Gesture in the direction you would like to cast the spell and say the name of the spell. Try "Fireball" to start. Be careful selecting a target!]
He raised his left hand and found that it was trembling and weak already from blood loss. His vision was growing dark around the edges. He tried to keep it pointed to a place right at the feet of the two men and equidistant between them. "Fireball."
Something pulsed through his body like a second, more powerful heartbeat, only this one felt cool and dense. His hand took on an orange glow.
The two men stopped and turned to scramble back down the mountain.
The orange glow erupted from his hand forming a flaming orb that blasted away as fast as an arrow.
He completely missed his aim. The fireball caught one man in the middle of his back and exploded, blowing the man in two and knocking the other to the ground, burning.
[Experience awarded!]
[Tutorial ended.]
[All damage healed.]
[Level Up available.]
He felt his strength return and the wound in his side closed and vanished under his hand. Wasting no time, he grabbed the spear and strode down the mountainside to drive it through the throat of the burning man cutting him off in mid-shriek.
[Experience awarded!]
A loot menu appeared with the sword, some coins, and the man's burned clothing. There was also something called a "Mana Core." He took the coins and the mana core, assuming it was probably something useful. He didn't bother looting Eric-The-Half-A-Celt in the interest of time.
[Nestor Banks, Level Up available. Please review your stats to Level Up]
He looked down at the village where eight more of these fighters were gathering and starting up the mountain toward him, shouting. One was bigger and armored, unlike the rest. The two he had killed on the mountainside hadn't spoken, but he could just hear these shouts. It sounded like a cross between German and Irish or Welsh. He found he could understand them perfectly.
"Surrender you filthy Fae, or face cold Iron!" and "Drop the spear!"
He did drop the spear, but only to pick up a large, leather bound book on the ground by his feet, next to an old, rusty knife. The book he had been carrying when he stepped through the portal was gone, possibly this had replaced it. The tome was in no language he recognized, but, again, he found he could read the cover "Basic Grimoire: Level 1."
The group of villagers was starting up the path now. Others, mostly unarmed, many of them children, had gathered down by the huts.
He looked again at the armed party and wondered what the range was like for this fireball spell. He raised his right hand and gestured "Fireball."
His second fireball flew straight and true exactly where he aimed it. Right into the largest thatched hut below. The wall of the hut exploded and burned with a roar he could hear even this far up.
Screams and shouts came from the village. The armed party turned back to help fight the fire.
[Experience Awarded!]
[Experience Awarded!]
[Experience Awarded!]
He picked the spear back up and tucked the book under his arm. He thought he could see a way to get to the top of the ridge. Hopefully from there he could find a good defensible position to spend the night and do some studying.
[Experience Awarded!]
He was going to need people to survive, but it wasn't likely he could reason with this village after such an unfortunate introduction. He would have to learn as much as he could and present himself more carefully to some other village, maybe take on some quests or odd jobs or whatever to begin building a reputation. For now, he would just have to accept that this was what he had to work with. It was surprising, shocking even, but it really didn't change his plans that much.
The fire below had spread to the other huts and trees. He could still hear screaming from where he stood.
To be fair to Bob, he had been right about one thing. His old world hadn't offered any real growth opportunities. This one looked much more promising.
[Experience Awarded!]
Using the butt of the spear like a staff, he tucked the grimoire under his arm and continued up the path to the ridgeline without looking back. He doubted anyone would be following him for a while at least.
[Nestor Banks, Level Up available. Please review your stats to Level Up]
"Call me Merlin," he said. Considering his first encounter here, he had almost said "Tim," but the joke would be lost on everyone except himself, and he had to start building a solid personal brand.
[Experience Awarded!]