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The Reluctant Apostle [VR LitRPG]
Chapter 22 - [A Universe of Hard Determinism]

Chapter 22 - [A Universe of Hard Determinism]

Now that I had thoroughly explored the bottom floor, I decided to ascend the stairs at the back of the living room. In doing so, I was pleasantly surprised that these wooden stairs didn’t creak under my weight. They must have either been reinforced the stairs or built them out of a stronger wood than the one used in the furniture.

The stairs ended in a short hallway with one door on each side and another set of stairs on the opposite side. I grabbed a door knob and pushed the door on the left open. Beyond the door was a large bedroom with a bed, a dresser, a large floor-length mirror, a bookshelf, and a chest at the base of the bed. Everything in the room was much more opulent than I had come to expect in the Old World. The bed was topped with thick sheets and half a dozen hand-woven pillows. The dresser was huge and covered in pleasing, elegant designs. The bookshelf was filled with hard-cover tomes of historical and fictional literature. As I scanned the books there, every single one caught my attention. If possible, I would like to read all of them. I scoffed. That’s assuming the Revenants didn’t kill me before then.

I opened the dresser and saw that it was filled with clothes. To my shock, I recognized every article of clothing within the dresser. At some point in my life, I had worn every piece of clothing there. The flannel jacket, graphic T-shirt, and blue jeans I had been wearing when I logged in was in that dresser. I was happy that my wardrobe had already been converted into the game, but I was also unsettled by that reminder that every corner of my mind was visible to GM.

I quickly changed out of my Dark Apostle uniform and into an olive drab shirt and sweatpants. It was good to be out of that supervillain costume, if only for a little while. As I turned back to the dresser to close its doors, I saw a metal mask at the bottom of the dresser. For no reason in particular, I placed the metal mask on my own face. It fit perfectly. I knew that the mask would adhere to my face even without the use of the strap on the back. The message sent by the presence of the mask was clear: you will have to hide your identity. I placed the mask back inside the dresser and closed the door.

I stepped over to the next room. Beyond the other door on the second floor was a bathroom. It was the usual small bathroom that I had grown accustomed to in the Old World. There was a sink, a mirror, a toilet, a bathtub, and a shower. The bathroom held a level of mundanity that required no further examination.

I walked over to the staircase at the far end of the hallway. As I walked up the stairs, I noticed that each step was slanted slightly, indicating that I was slowly rotating as I ascended. At the top of the stairs was a single room that was lined by books on all sides. On the far end of the room, rather than another staircase, was a single table next to a large window. The view out through the window was breath-taking. I could see sheer cliffs descending down below the window for hundreds of feet. If I were to smash through the window, I would fall the entire distance. Far below, I saw scattered motes of light indicating the presence of a large settlement below. The lights were only present ahead and to the left. The sea must have been to the right. I briefly looked over the titles of the books that lined the walls of this room. It was as if the books had been tailor made for me. There were even a few technical manuals of firearms, land vehicles, and airplanes.

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Upon the table by the window was an electric typewriter, several stacks of paper, and an unopened pack of pens. A piece of paper had already been placed inside the well of the typewriter. On the typewriter was written the words:

From GM.

I grimaced as I tore the paper out of the well. Yes, I was aware. In fact, he was aware as well. He had simulated everything I would do long before any of us had spawned as Dark Apostles. He knew everything I would do until I would make contact with the Revenants in three days. Castle Bosporus was a universe of hard determinism. I could expect to find these little passive aggressive notes at any time.

I sat down at the table. Ever since the interaction with GM, I had been in an introspective mood. I figured I would just put a few of my thoughts into words. I placed a piece of paper into the well of the typewriter and began writing.

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October 1st, 2035

When I logged in to Ferrum Online for the first time, I was sitting inside of a net cafe in Madison, Wisconsin…

…Three hours later, I was dead.

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9:35 A.M.

I typed for several hours. By the time the sun was high in the sky, I had filled seventeen empty pages with the events of the previous day. I had only managed to describe the period before I logged in, character creation, and the period immediately after I had logged in. Much of my time writing had been spent either remembering those events or editing my thoughts on the matter.

It was only once I had reached this natural stopping point in the story that I opened my Menu and checked the time. The next strategy meeting would be held in two and a half hours. I realistically wouldn’t have time to get any sleep before the meeting. What would happen if I didn’t show up? Would Melkior send someone to kick me out of bed? I never seriously considered the idea of not showing up, because I wasn’t particularly fatigued. Either due to the effects spawning had on my circadian rhythm or due to my new body, I barely felt the effects of not sleeping.

I placed the papers down next to the typewriter and left the library.