《If a Tree Falls - A d.o.mai.n Gamelit Hypervisor》


 CHAPTER 1 - Peeping Tom

    The house was nondescript, like any of a hundred thousand others. A two story cape with black asphalt shingles, white vinyl siding, a one car garage that didn¡¯t look large enough for a modern SUV, and a tiny front porch. Surrounding the porch were sparse, gently rotting panels of wooden lattice blocking it¡¯s underneath from the occasional skunk looking for a place to build a den. In short, nothing about it was remarkable.


    He must have passed it a hundred times, maybe a thousand, as it roughly bisected the route he would walk late at night for exercise and to clear his head.


    There was absolutely no reason why such a house would capture his attention, but without fail, every time he walked by he would notice things about it, little mysteries that didn¡¯t add up. Mysteries such as how the house always gave off this smell, a unique blend of vanilla, bourbon, laundry detergent, and incense that he could not directly place. Individually they were some of his favorite smells, but each compounded exponentially upon the other as they reached out from the house to the sidewalk. He would walk through the cloud of intoxicating perfume four times over the course of his two round trip journeys to the Chinese food restaurant that marked the quarter mile distance from his apartment, each time drawn by it to sneak a glance into one of the windows that faced the street. Each window was covered by a gossamer lace, occluding the view of the interior beyond, and wondering what constituted the fascinating smell.


    At first his curiosity was confined to placing the strange mixture of smells, but when no answer to that dilemma was forthcoming, his search for clues led him to notice other odd details about the house. He would typically leave for his walks at around 10pm, the full double circuit taking him a little under an hour, putting his last pass of the house at around 11pm. Every few months, there would be a gathering at the house, the assortment of vehicles overflowing from the single lane driveway onto the lawn and side of the street on some occasions.


    But he never saw a single person at the house. Judging by the number of vehicles in the lot at the time, there must have been twenty to thirty people in the home, but in all of the dozens of times he noticed the gatherings, there was never an instance of someone outside. Nobody stepping out for a smoke, nobody grabbing anything out of their vehicles, nobody arriving or departing. Taken on it¡¯s own, it wouldn¡¯t have been noteworthy, but when measured against the mysterious smell, and the fact that no matter how many people were at the house, the occasional subdued desk lamp would be the only light in the home.


    It didn¡¯t line up in his mind. The house should have been a hive of activity with that many vehicles there, should have been lit up like the fourth of july as the gathering spread to various rooms. Their voices, at least once, should have reached him out on the sidewalk. There should have been movement visible through the windows, conspicuous at even one of his momentary glances. There should have been forms passing the windows, dancing lights of a television screen playing a football game of fight.


    But there was never a sign that there was anyone home.


    The dilemma ate at him, his mind as wired to solve mysteries as the rest of humanity. The incongruity of it all would not let his mind discard the mysterious house, the mysterious smell reaching out like a sirens song to remind him of it when a stretch of bad weather made his walks less consistent.


    It ate at him, but his sense of wanting to respect the privacy of the homeowners and their guests kept his curiosity at bay for over a year. Then, one night, as he was making his final pass of the house on his way back to his apartment, he saw something through one of the windows.


    A form, which he couldn¡¯t really make out from the distance, had to be a person, the first real evidence of habitation that the house had divulged in all his time walking by it. He¡¯d fabricated all sorts of fantasies and nightmare scenarios of what the house contained, the imaginings of an otherwise bored, middle aged man with no other sources of excitement in his life. He would always laugh these mirages off, understanding them for what they were, his mind attempting to pick up the slack of his pedestrian existence. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    But he had seen someone. His curiosity threatened to overwhelm him, overwhelm his better judgment. He didn¡¯t know what to expect, but several of the more colorful options came back to him, and the prospect of sneaking a peek at an Eyes Wide Shut level orgy or secret bult meeting found him stepping off the pavement of the sidewalk and across the dozen or so feet of grass to the side window where he had detected the movement.


    Picking his way through the lawn, careful to avoid downed twigs or branches that might give him away, he told himself he would just get close enough to make out what he had seen, and then he¡¯d be back out onto the sidewalk, continuing his walk before his heart rate tracker even registered the change of pace. The streetlights, not overly bright but present, made it impossible for him to go unnoticed if a car drove by, and the town, while small, had a relatively active police force in the downtown area where the house stood.


    No, getting arrested for being a peeping tom would not be worth whatever secrets the nondescript house had to offer.


    With that in mind, he focused on being invisible, silent, and kept to the shadows, making his way to within a half dozen feet of the nearest window. The sensation of getting away with something flooded his body with adrenaline. The form looked to be that of a woman, slight of build, wearing a white blouse, green pencil skirt, and black high heels. Her black hair shimmered in the half light of what appeared to be a kitchen, or a mini bar. She was facing away from him, moving slightly, but never quite turning around enough for him to see her face. She lifted a glass to her lips, a short tumbler glass, and took a sip before setting it down onto the nearby counter.


    Suddenly, he was certain there was nothing nefarious going on, and that the risk of getting caught would clearly outweigh the value of knowing what happened inside the house. He turned to make the handful of steps required to return to the safety of the sidewalk, but more movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to halt his movement and look back.


    A man stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the back of her neck before reaching up to her waist and presumably dragging down the long zipper at the back of her skirt. The skirt fell away, the two forms shifting slightly to reveal slivers of her pale hips before the black lace of thigh high stockings peeked out from either side of the man''s legs.


    The man worked something at the front of his pants, which he assumed was his zipper and/or belt, and then he pushed her back forward, bending her over the counter, and she writhed back against him, soundlessly from his perspective outside the house.


    He glanced around, wanting to make sure that he could hear no vehicles approaching, but his luck continued to hold.


    The two twisted slightly to the side, and he could see her then. The front of her white button up shirt had been opened, and too-perfect breasts in a black lace bra had been pushed free of the restrictive fabric. Her hair cascaded around her face, head down, as their bodies crashed against each other repeatedly.


    He could feel his own erection growing, pushing against the soft fabric of his joggers, and they had his full attention.


    Her legs were impossibly long, fair in the way that he liked, the entire view straight out of one of his own personal fantasies. Part of him wanted to see her face, but the remnants of sanity he had managed to hang onto understood that if he could see her eyes, there was a chance she could see his. Ready to take his winnings back to his apartment to be thoroughly lusted over while he did his best to impersonate how she must have felt with his hand, he was startled by a rectangular prompt appearing in his vision, bright as a stop sign in headlights.


    Gasping, he recoiled slightly, managing to maintain his balance but otherwise in shock.


    SKILL UNLOCKED - SNEAK


    You are 5% less likely to be noticed when attempting to avoid detection.


    CLASS TREE UNLOCKED - ROGUE


    Out of reflex, he reached up to bat it away, assuming that if he could see it, anyone within a two block radius could see it, including the couple fucking a mere dozen feet away from him. The prompt disappeared, the light around him not changing as much as he would have thought given the brightness of the floating rectangle in his vision just a moment prior.


    Glancing back at the couple one last time before he turned to run, he saw that the woman had most definitely noticed him, as she stood mere inches from the glass, the window coverings thrown back, staring at him with what could only be called a smirk on her face. The man was nowhere to be seen, but he did notice that one of her hands was between her legs, rubbing at the nub of flesh slightly beneath an almost invisible triangle of black fuzz.


    It was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

 CHAPTER 2 - An Indecent Proposal

    When he woke up, he was seated in a tastefully appointed livingroom, which was dropped down about ten inches from the kitchen behind him and the entrance hallway to his right. A throbbing headache greeted him, but he pushed through it, not knowing how much danger he was in. He immediately glanced to the kitchen, having been the last known location of the mysterious woman. He could see where she had been, and the window through which he had been spotted.


    He was not bound in any way, but was having trouble standing. He must have been hit really hard in the back of head, and it would take a moment or two for his equilibrium to return. Over the next few minutes,he did all he could to settle his pounding heart and refocus his vision. Soon, the room stopped spinning and he was able to make out more detail in the room.


    You are a very bad boy.¡±


    The voice came from the shadows down the hall. It sounded feminine, but with a command and sultryness he¡¯d not heard before. Turning to face the direction of the voice, he was able to make out a sashaying figure as she made her way up the hall. The din of darkness gradually gave way to the subtle amber glow given off by the assortment of candles on the counter and various other surfaces.


    She was, in a word, breathtaking. She wore thigh high socks, black knit fabric giving way to three stripes of white that wrapped around her upper thighs like garters. And the rest of her outfit? Well, there was no rest of her outfit, only patches of runic tattoos that cascaded from her collarbone, merging and narrowing before passing between her breasts. They narrowed to nothingness just shy of her belly button, resuming on the other side and disappearing between her legs.


    She stopped pacing towards him when it became obvious that she had his full attention, swaying her hips back and forth with a smirk meant for stopping armed me in their tracks. She was showing off for him, and he took the opportunity to give her another once over.


    Her tattoos looked...old. Too old to be on such a youthful body. The ink, as best he could tell in the glow of the candles and fireplace, had faded to what he assumed to be a dark blue, as opposed to the black of fresh ink, the intricate lines cross hatching at random angles, forming thatch roof-like texture with archaic symbols woven in for good measure.


    And that¡¯s when he noticed it. The smell that had reached him out on the sidewalk, the intoxicating fumes that had set this entire soiree off to begin with...were coming from her. Not in the ¡°oh, what delightful perfume yo are wearing¡± sense, but from inside of her. As she waved her hips back and forth, breathin seductively, causing her chest to rise and fall, her scent, a form of pheromones he presumed, wafted across the room. His body had an instant reaction. What had only been a fascinating mystery outside became a lustful compulsion at this closer proximity. She was beautiful, comely and had curves that any man alive would sacrifice body parts to be allowed to touch, but that coupled wit the scent, the motion...he had to have her.


    His penis stirred, rising to attention so abruptly that the skin on his circumcised penis stretched painfully. Every part of him wanted every part of her, for as long as she would allow. His mouth began to water, his eyes began to itch, and every spare ounce of blood not required for life support functions was travelling below his waist to reinforce his already uncomfortably taught penis. Unprovoked, he wondered if his dick was so hard that he could punch pilot holes through lumber with it.


    He¡¯d never been so turned on. Sensing he was approaching his imit, she bit her lip and took several steps forward, crossing her feet as she walked, accentuating the hourglass shape of her figure.


    As she drew within ten feet or so, the glowing name tag appeared above her head again.


    SUCCUBUS


    LEVEL 37


    He barely read the prompt, mentally shoving it away. He would not tolerate distractions at that moment. He could imagine the rough, springy texture of her dark nipples on his tongue. He could feel the soft, yielding skin of her hips and ass. He knew what she was going to taste like. She slowed to a stop a half dozen feet away from him, standing directly between his seated form and the fireplace. The brightness of the flames fought against the shadows of the room, framing her figure in silhouette while wrapping around her body slightly, only hinting at the vision he had seen moments before. He wished the light would try harder to reach her front, his desire for her that complete.


    He tried to get up, but he could not, his body having magnetized itself to the chair holding him up. He strained, trying to break free, which delighted the devil in front of him. She laughed softly, twisting slightly at the waist, swaying her shoulders back and forth, casing her breasts to follow the movement after a miniscule time delay.


    ¡°I...want you.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d ever uttered a more honest sentence in his life.


    ¡°I know. And...you can have me.¡±


    She traced a hand down one oblique, her polished black fingernails lightly gliding across her skin.


    ¡°All of me. But first, I need to know...what made you look inside? How long have you been spying on me?¡±


    He answered without hesitation, ¡°Just...just tonight. The...scent. I walk by this house every night, and got curious about the smell. Tonight I finally saw movement in the window, and had to look.¡±


    She considered his words for a moment, head tilted. Coming to a decision, she lowered a hand between her legs. Her long, talented fingers went to work, gliding between the hairless folds of flesh and toying within. He could see that by the light of the fire, wherever her fingers touched the inside of her, they came away wet, reflecting the light of the fire like there was an orange-red electricity coming out of her. After a few seconds of play, she stepped forward and gently inserted her fingers into his mouth, slowly working them around, spreading them apart to allow his tongue to glide up between them, taking the slickness on her skin into his mouth.


    If the scent had been intoxicating, the taste of her could not be put into words. All of his favorite flavors took their turn, dancing in and out of his perception with perfect choreography, not fumbling a single transition or giving him a chance to recover. What power had he to refuse such a creature? He wasn¡¯t so completely lost to desire to not wonder what would happen once she was done with him, but in that moment, he¡¯d have traded his soul for a single night of her time. She slowly retrieved her fingers, no mean thin as he had taken to sucking on them. Her eyes flashed red, a feeling of intolerable warmth flowing across his body for the briefest of moments, and he let her go. A moment later, her eyes were back to a dark, dusky gray, and the instant of discomfort gone as though it had all been a dream, one interrupted by the tough of her hand beneath his chin, lifting his startled eyes up to meet hers.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Stand up and take your clothes off.¡±


    He found that he could stand, and did as was requested, kicking his shoes and socks off and casting them behind the chair.


    She stood there, taking him in. He felt a little judged. Exposed, and had a fleeting thought that threatened to break the spell he was under.


    "Where is your friend?"


    She laughed. It started out as a snicker, breaking out into a delightfully full laugh, and he smiled at her as she responded.


    "Somewhere else. Is that what''s really on your mind right now?"


    As she spoke, she turned. Slowly, each step causing a cascade of body undulations that moved from her feet, to her knees, her hips, and then her shoulders. He watched her from top to bottom, marvelling at the movement.


    "No...no."


    He felt the need to repeat himself, if only to firm up his voice.


    She bent over at the waist, stretching her back. Her feet were crossed, and the extent of her flexibility was impressive. He glanced at her ass, and he couldn''t remember seeing a more perfect thing in his life. His eyes began misting up slightly, and it took a herculean force of will for him to not kneel down and plant his face right into it.


    The tattoos on her front were less pronounced on her back, mostly appearing as a one to two inch wide strip down her spine. She snapped back up to her full height, her raven black hair billowing out, and moved back towards him, sliding his cock expertly inside of the gap her thighs and already damp pussy formed. Crossing her legs again, she tightened her grip on him, leaning back to stretch one hand behind his neck for balance as she writhed.


    Tentatively, he reached up and around, cupping one of her breasts. Her breath caught slightly in her throat, which encouraged him to roll the taught nub at the center of her nipple between two fingers, causing her to redouble her efforts below.


    ¡°Yes...like that. Just like that. ¡±


    He pinched her nipple tighter, feeling a corresponding level of dampness glide along the length of his shaft. She shuddered, the microstutters of her body transmitting to his. He was about to orgasm, and the change in headspace brought him back to the present. Revisiting his surroundings, the facts of it came crashing down in his mind like portulluses sealing chambers in the hold of a sinking ship.


    He had his arms wrapped around a succubus, his cock gliding rhymically against her pussy. A presumably evil demon, who would do...whatever she wanted to him after she was done with him. Did he expect her to just let him go? Where were the other men? Did she plan to kill him if he tried to leave? Would she kill him anyway? The questions came faster and faster, and he suddenly realized just how much danger he was in. It was the fear, not the nirvana of her body and the near physical allure of her scent, that ultimately caused him to place his hands on her hips and gently push her off of him.


    She turned, her expression confused. Clearly, this encounter was not going the way she expected. Realizing that he probably did more to speed his potential demise than prevent it by stopping her, he quickly raised his hands.


    Her eyes, already slightly overwhelmed with lust, took on a cold, probationary lilt, moving quickly from his left hand, across to his right. Both were raised high still. Her gaze moved down to his penis, which was similarly inclined to his hands, before slowly raising back to his face. The entire circuit took only a moment, but at the end of it, her eyes began to glow slightly red, which he took as an indication that he had mere moments to explain himself.


    ¡°Sorry! I just had a question to ask you before we...uhh...continue.¡±


    She tilted her head and sighed. He quickly moved on, understanding that her patience was finite.


    ¡°What are you going to do to me after we finish? Are you going to kill me? Where are the other guys? If you¡¯re going to let me live, am I going to be a prisoner here?¡±


    She paused, listening to all of his questions, head tilted in concentration.


    Then she burst out laughing.


    ¡°Kill you? You clearly don¡¯t know much about my kind, No, I¡¯m not going to kill you, unless you ever speak of what we do here to anyone else.¡±


    His shoulders fell as he released a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding.


    ¡°And the others are in various rooms in this house, awaiting me after we...finish. Once you have no more to give, you are free to go. If you keep my secrets like a good boy, you will be invited back to play again during the next full moon. DO you think you can handle that?¡±


    He swallowed. He was having a hard time coming up with anything to complain about with the arrangement.


    ¡°That...I can work with that.¡±


    The glow left her eyes, and the seductive smirk returned.


    ¡°Great. Now, how about you get over here and cum in my mouth?¡±


    He chuckled, the unexpected forwardness of her comment causing his shoulders to bounce up and down as he laughed, which caused the head of his still erect penis to bounce up and down. Which caused her eyes to bounce up and down.


    He took a step forward, and she met him halfway, dropping to her knees and wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft. Her grip was strong, almost too strong, and he felt the urge to withdraw rise in his mind briefly before she wrapped her already moistened lips around the head of his cock. Her lips began to contract and expand, drawing him closer and deeper into her mouth with each expansion.


    Not wanting to bother himself with the details of how she now had his entire length down her throat, he closed his eyes, leaning back to enjoy the greatest blowjob of his life. Her lips, the inside of her mouth, even her throat, pulsed rhythmically along the entire length of him, and in almost no time at all he was brought to a spasming release. She pulled him back out until only the head of his penis was in her mouth, and wrapped both hands around his shaft with that same vice like grip. The suction on his dick increased as he came, reaching an almost painful level just before the last drops of semen left his system.


    He leaned forward, weakened in a way that he hadn¡¯t felt since his last bought with the flu caused him to spend a weekend in bed, but managed to maintain his balance. An aching from his balls rose into his stomach. Not quite the excruciating level of having been kicked there, but something akin to a mild bout of testicular torsion.


    His eyes began to feel heavy, and a darkness crept in around the corners of his eyes. Through the ever narrowing tunnel at the center of his vision, he could see the Succubus, licking her lips with a tongue that should not have entirely fit into her mouth. She caught his collapsing body with a strength that was not natural for such a small frame, and she lowered him to a sofa that he hadn¡¯t noticed earlier. Her voice came to him through a fog of waning consciousness.


    ¡°You did well. The first time is always the hardest. Sleep. When you wake up and leave in the morning, make sure you lock the door behind you. I¡¯d arrange for one of the others to drive you home, but I understand you live within walking distance.¡±


    He smirked at the joke, not having the strength for anything more expressive, before sleep took him.

 CHAPTER 3 - Circle of Mistrust

    ¡°Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew¡¯d¡±


    The words greet him. An echo, a lighthouse cutting through the night fog, and he follows them to consciousness.


    Then...


    White.


    There is nothing else, just an overwhelming brightness that slowly resolves into the sheetrock of a well constructed ceiling.


    Movement out of the corner of his eye becomes a ceiling fan, clocking in at around one revolution per second. He lowers his head, stretching his jaw because something in his mind says that is the best way to clear the ridiculous pressure from his ears, a pressure that threatens to pop his head like one of those tubes of pre-made biscuits.


    He pans the room, discovering that he is sitting in a padded steel folding chair, one of around a dozen arranged in a circle. How he hadn¡¯t fallen out of it while he was waking up, he had no idea. Everything is clean, inoffensive, safe. Seated across from him, waiting patiently in a white lab coat, is a woman.


    Blonde hair, tan skin. Pretty. She¡¯s wearing a nametag, but he can¡¯t read it because his eyes aren¡¯t operating at peak efficiency yet.


    ¡°Hello. My name is Dr. Burrill. I imagine you¡¯re a little disoriented right now, but that will pass. Do you remember your name?¡±


    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s¡­¡±


    Nothing. Wherever room that information had been stored in his brain, the door was locked.


    ¡°I...don¡¯t remember.¡±


    She smiles at him reassuringly, making a quick note on the file opened on her clipboard.


    ¡°I thought that might be the case. As I said, you¡¯re probably a little disoriented. But don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re here to help you.¡±


    His eyes narrow.


    ¡°Where are we?¡±


    She makes another note. He realizes she is documenting the things he can¡¯t remember.


    ¡°Dr. Burrill?¡±


    She finishes her note and looks up.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Where am I?¡±


    Her head tilts, contemplative.


    ¡°Your name is William. William Kenney.¡±


    William Kenney.


    The name clicked into his mind. He instantly knew it was the truth, but her attempt at distracting him did not go unnoticed. He¡¯d circle back around to it in a minute.


    ¡°Okay. Are there any more bits of information about my life that you can give me up front? It might make this process go smoother if I get all of the landmarks locked down.¡±


    She lifts her clipboard again, flips a page, and resumes writing. William is about to speak again when she responds without looking up.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    William tilts his head back, giving her a quizzical look.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you? You obviously know who I am.¡±


    Dr. Connell then meets his gaze.


    ¡°It¡¯s not about what I do or don¡¯t know. It¡¯s not even about me wanting to tell you, or not.¡±


    William was already tired of the game. Sensing his mutinous mood, she continued needing to be prodded further.


    ¡°How much do you know about Amnesia?¡±


    William began looking around the room. If she refused to answer his questions, he¡¯d be damned if he was going to answer any of hers. To her credit, she caught on quickly, and elaborated.


    ¡°Fair enough. The reason I can¡¯t simply tell you is that there is a marked difference between knowing a detail and remembering the experiences tied to it. If I list off a sequence of facts about your life, those facts will lack context. How you learn information is often as important as the information itself.¡±


    He cut her off.


    ¡°Is there a point to this lesson in cognitive impairment, Doctor?¡±


    She continued on as though he hadn¡¯t interrupted. He let her go, since she appeared dedicated to finishing her thought.


    ¡°The human mind is a system of constant information processing, hence the term "stream of consciousness". There is a great deal of research suggesting that the only reason we believe ourselves to be sentient is because we never truly stop taking in information and making decisions, maintaining our singular perspective. That is why I can''t simply give you the information, and also there is no way I can truly just hand the information over out of context without altering the person you are. Your mind would take that information and immediately begin constructing narratives and backstory explaining how it could be possible, and shortly thereafter, you convince yourself it all happened in that way. Now, perhaps your mind will remember the truth of those events later on, but like a jury informed they must ignore and outburst in court, that memory never truly goes away.``


    William¡¯s eyes narrowed. He hadn¡¯t decided yet if her words felt honest, or if they were part of a larger manipulation.


    ¡°So, you have this information, but won¡¯t give it to me because you want me to earn it?¡±


    It was the Doctors turn to look nonplussed. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Here¡¯s a bit of information that you may have already pieced together-you are an exceptionally intelligent person, Mr. Kenney. Not having information about your past doesn¡¯t change your intellectual capacity, your ability to draw inferences and deductions from the information around you. And I am not testing you, we have a program already in place to help you regain your lost memories.¡±


    William paused, trying to read the lie in her eyes. She hadn¡¯t lied to him, at least not that he could tell, but something in him hadn¡¯t quite decided if he could trust her yet. Maybe that was a part of who he was. A skeptic.


    She continued, ¡°I am not denying you information about yourself, I¡¯m simply asking for you to go through the process we have developed so that you are restored to as complete and well-adjusted a person as can be.¡±


    ¡°And if you give me back these memories without context, you¡¯re worried that I¡¯ll become a different person than I was prior to the memory loss?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°In short? Yes. We have seen it happen, and once the new personality takes root, it becomes very difficult to change. Memory loss of this sort is often a result of brain trauma, and the brain is wired to make connections, so whatever is given to it, it takes and tries to make a whole from. If you see a half finished sentence, your mind implies the rest, assuming the remainder based on similar passages read in the past.¡±


    It all made sense to William. He still didn¡¯t trust this Doctor, but nothing she had said to him so far felt untrue.


    ¡°Alright. Perhaps now is a good time to tell me where we are. Unless I worked here or you and I have slept together in the past, I doubt that information will stunt my recovery too badly.¡±


    The Doctor made another note.


    ¡°You are in an experimental medical facility somewhere in Northern New England. Where that facility is located in the country is irrelevant at this point.¡±


    ¡°Irrelevant? How so?¡±


    She smirked, as though what she was about to say would bring her a measure of amusement.


    ¡°Tell me this, if I pointed you to our front door and put in the security code myself, where would you go first?¡±


    William opened his mouth to respond, and stopped again. He didn¡¯t even know who he was, so it stood to reason that he didn¡¯t know where home was.


    Doctor Burrill nodded.


    ¡°You see my point. Releasing you into the world without your memories would constitute medical negligence. Until we are able to make you whole, Mr. Kenney, we are responsible for your safety, and knowing your geographic location only introduces the risk that you will try to leave as soon as you identify a single location from your past, and we need to bring back all of your memories, or at least as many as possible, before we can give you a clean bill of health.¡±


    It all made sense to William, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she still wasn¡¯t telling him the whole truth.


    ¡°Fine. If I can¡¯t leave until I finish this ¡°process¡±, then what do I need to do?¡±


    Everything around him looked safe and supportive, but beneath it all there was an anxiety about being there that he couldn¡¯t place.


    Doctor Burrill grabbed a sheet out of the file, and clipped it to the clipboard. She then handed everything to William, minus the file. There was a pen attached, with a tether so short he could barely reach the bottom of the page with it.


    ¡°This is a release. I¡¯d like you to read it in its entirety, and I will answer what I can.¡±


    William began to read. There was a lot of legalese, interspersed with terms such as ¡°cognitive immersion therapy¡±. At the start of the second paragraph, he came across the sentence, ¡°The patient absolves the facility of any liability in relation to any and all events that take place to their person inside of the simulated environment, including virtual death, virtual rape, torture, and or virtual harm to simulated version of loved ones or other non-player-characters in their presence.¡±


    ¡°Wait...virtual death? Simulated version of loved ones?¡±


    The Doctor nodded again.


    ¡°Yes. The process we are developing here at this facility involves a deep dive virtual reality simulation. While in the simulation, you will be placed in environments and situations that almost exactly replicate those from your past. Artificially intelligent non-player characters will take the place of your loved ones, your adult family, and there will also be a suitable number of unrelated people created in the simulation to fill out the environment and make it more believable. Some of them are there to subtly help you along on your path to recovery. They¡¯ll never admit that, if asked, but they will still make every attempt to make sure you¡¯re moving towards where you need to be. You¡¯ll never be alone inside the simulation, not really. The result is a startlingly lifelike world, designed to immerse you in your past and to reaccumulate your memories in an organic and context-appropriate manner.¡±


    William raised his eyebrows, staring at her. She did not give the impression that she was lying.


    ¡°So...you created an entire computer generated world, just to help me get my memories back? What kind of insurance do I have? Am I rich?¡±


    She smiled, the first truly genuine smile he¡¯d seen from her in their short history together.


    ¡°No. In fact, there are currently 173 other human patients inside of this simulated world at present. It¡¯s possible you¡¯ll even encounter one or two of them, though the realistic nature of the NPC¡¯s make it unlikely that you¡¯ll be able to tell the difference between who is real and who is not.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    It was all that William could muster. He put the odds of her being completely full of shit at around 50/50, but as he didn¡¯t have any other choice, he decided to ride the dog and pony show all the way to the end.


    ¡°Let me get this straight. Once I sign this, you are going to plug me into the Matrix, and I am going to go on a three dimensional walk down memory lane until everything comes back to me?¡±


    ¡°More or less.¡±


    ¡°And then once you put Humpty Dumpty back together again, I get to leave?¡±


    ¡°Once we determine that you are safely made whole again, and aren¡¯t a danger to yourself or others? Of course.¡±


    Not exactly a straight answer, but probably was the best he would get. He signed the name he had been given five minutes prior in penmanship that he assumed was his own. He handed the clipboard back to the Doctor.


    ¡°Alright, Morpheus, where¡¯s my blue pill at?¡±


    She stood.


    ¡°Right this way, Mr. Kenney.¡±


    She pushed through a set of double doors, and the serene comfort of the sharing room gave way to an efficient, clinical facility. Had he ran from the room upon waking up, the sight of all the polished stainless steel machinery, computer server racks, and vats of shimmering nanofluid connected with large tubes, wires, and hoses that they passed would have convinced him he had already been plugged in to the personal Thirteenth Floor that the good Doctor had promised him.


    After a few turns, a short elevator ride down a level, and a dizzying number of security checkpoints, they reached a room not unlike many of the others they had passed. It¡¯s own computerized chemistry set of machines covered one wall, and opposite, a hospital bed with a robotic arm beneath it stood upright.


    William pointed at the bed as a nurse walked in and began pressing buttons and pulling IV equipment out of a nearby cabinet.


    ¡°For me?¡±


    The Doctor nodded, and William walked over and stood on the plate at the foot of the bed. The nurse touched the earbud at her ear, and the mechanized arm beneath the bed sprang to life, tilting away from the wall and scooping William up. The sensation was not as foreign to him as he would have guessed, and he assumed he had been in a similar bed in the past. Soon, the bed was laying flat, and the plate at the foot of the bed tilted down and away, replaced by a composite rail.


    The nurse stepped up with a speed that suggested she had a few dozen more of these procedures to get done before the end of her shift, and she sprayed the crook of his arm with a spray that was cool to the touch.


    William spoke to the nurse, trying to displace his nervousness with a joke.


    ¡°Be careful, it¡¯s my first time.¡±


    The nurse, not missing a beat, responded as the needle slid into his arm.


    ¡°How would you know that?¡±


    William laughed. She had a point.


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    He turned his head to say something to the Doctor, but the movement blurred his vision, the sedation smudging everything in the room for a moment before everything went completely black.

 CHAPTER 4 - Shadowboxin

    William had no guidepost by which to measure how much time passed after the sedative took him under. There was no transition, no LOADING¡­ screen, all he knew is that one moment he was exchanging jokes with the nurse, closing his eyes as everything faded from existence, and in the next, as though the transition occurred within a single blink, he found himself walking along a sidewalk in a moderately developed city.


    The transition was jarring, and he stumbled slightly as his mind registered the new physical orientation of his body, barely managing to avoid falling over.


    Buildings composed of gray-tan concrete lined the street he found himself on, and small tendrils of familiarity wound their way into his mind. He knew where he was, but also didn¡¯t. Doctor Burrill had told him that the construct would be pulled from his memories, and he made the logical assumption that the reason his surroundings felt familiar was that he had been there before.


    He started walking, feeling the need to see more, to understand more. A sparse population of strangers strolled up and down the street, ducking in and out of shops, sitting at sidewalk cafes, weaving between parked cars and crossing from one side of the street to another. His mind drank it all in, building upon his opening assumptions about where he was. He must be downtown in whatever city he was in, because none of the traffic was moving all that quickly. If he were on the outskirts of the city, far fewer people would be walking because everything would be too spread out.


    With every minor realization, William felt a little more comfortable. He might not know where he was, but he understood the flow of the area, how to get from place to place. Needing to lock down a few more assumptions, he checked his pockets. He found a wallet, with a few hundred dollars inside. Cash, but nothing else. No identification, no social security card, no credit or bank cards with his full name on them. The cash at least gave him the reassurance that he would not starve in the near term, though shelter might be tougher to come by, the vague understanding that the money wouldn¡¯t be enough to secure an apartment. He could probably swing a cheap hotel room for a few nights, but that wasn¡¯t going to get him very far.


    He wasn¡¯t very hungry or thirsty, hot or cold, or tired, so he continued in the direction that seemed to hold taller buildings, more development. More opportunity for answers.


    It all seemed counterproductive to him, that he should seek out a more populated area to feel safer. Maybe it was enough for him to be part of a crowd, to hide in it and enjoy the anonymity provided from being one of many? Maybe he just wanted to be around people, in the same way that children, who also don¡¯t really know who they are yet, seek out social interaction to have references to model their behavior and seek approval from.


    He didn¡¯t know, didn¡¯t have enough knowledge of himself yet to even know that much. He felt...empty, like a piece of long abandoned electronics, all wiring and antique silicone, it¡¯s reason for being unknowable until electricity is applied.


    He merged with the foot traffic on his side of the street, rubber-necking around like a tourist. Which, he was...and wasn¡¯t. The buildings around him had begun to look more and more familiar, but it was hard to say why. Somehow he knew that most buildings tended to look the same nowadays. Gone were the days of humans and companies building great edifices of architecture, wanting to create a legacy in stone and steel. No, most buildings now were contracted out to the lowest bidder, more utilitarian shelter and workspace than anything approaching the monuments of the heyday of the industrial era. Anything not strictly necessary was kicked to the end of the balance sheet, and ultimately abandoned.


    Passing an alley, he heard the sound of trash falling over, and glanced in that direction. What he saw brought him up short.


    A person, wearing a brown leather jacket with a hood, sprinted out from between two buildings. William instinctively took a step back out of view, leaning out around the corner of the nearest building to get a clear view. Nobody ran like that in the city unless they were being chased by someone or something tougher than they are, and this person looked plenty capable on their own, leaping over a stack of trash cans while barely breaking stride.


    William glanced back between the buildings where the figure had entered the alley, but couldn¡¯t make out anything distinct in the alley, the tall buildings looming above blocking everything but the most indirect of sunlight. As his eyes made their way back to the figure, he saw movement among the shadows, but still couldn¡¯t discern anything specific. By that point they realized that there was no throughway, only a solid, uninterrupted expanse of building exteriors blocking their path. They stopped, glancing in William''s direction, as though trying to decide if they had the time to escape the alley before whatever they were running from chased them down. Again, he jerked his head back out of view, silently hoping that the figure wouldn¡¯t draw whatever was chasing them in his direction.


    William heard a growl, half grunt, half snarl, and then a rapid sequence of popping sounds, followed by muffled screams. His curiosity overwhelming his fear, William glanced back around the corner. The figure stood in the center of the open space of the alley, turning slowly as though attempting to fend off a squad of attackers that had them surrounded, but all William could see were places where the shadows were darker. The more he stared, the more it looked like the person was surrounded by a circle of invisible beings that could not entirely escape their own shadows.


    One of them flashed at the figure, the marginally brighter light in the center of the alley providing more contrast for the nebulous shadow. The figure responded instantly by snapping a hand in it¡¯s direction, another one of the popping sounds finding Williams ears as a cloud of smoke erupted from the figure''s hand, a portion of it continuing on towards the shadow monster in the form of a short conjured dagger. The smoke dagger struck the creature in what William assumed must be it¡¯s chest, sending it back into the darkness and causing it to emit an unearthly wail. Others began dashing in, braving the muted half-light of the alley for only the briefest of moments to strike at the figure, who always seemed to be a step ahead of the shadows. Spinning, rolling, lashing out with the conjured shadow daggers, the figure took them all on, but even from his vantage point at the end of the alley, William could tell that it wasn¡¯t going to be enough. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    He wanted to do something to help the figure, jumping to the conclusion that the shadow monsters were the bad guys in the equation because...well...shadow monsters. Now that he had seen enough of them, he thought they looked like dementors from Harry Potter, only with their opacity slider ticked down to 50%. He had no idea how the figure moved so quickly, but as the battle wore on, their movements became more labored and desperate.


    William glanced back into the main street that fed into the alley, wondering if anyone else could see or hear what was going on, or if there was someone nearby that could help. He was startled to see that the once bustling street was now completely abandoned. No vehicle traffic, no passersby, nothing in the way of evidence that the city was at all inhabited.


    His blood ran cold. Where did everyone go? He was about to turn back to the fight still raging on when he spotted someone sitting at a cafe a block or so up the street, sipping an iced coffee and glancing at her phone as though the entire rest of the city wasn¡¯t awaiting the Langoliers. A woman with blonde hair, sunglasses. Tanned skin.


    William drew in a breath to yell to her, but a gurgling scream from the alley stopped him. Snapping his attention to the hooded figure in the alley, he could see that one of the shadow monsters had managed to spear him through the left side of his chest. It raised another tendril of shadow for the killing blow, but the figure caught it with their left hand. It¡¯s other hand, partially immobilized by the lance of shadow perforating it¡¯s body, struck out with a larger conjured smoke blade, the even louder popping sound arriving at Williams ears mere moments before the shriek of the monster as the blade caused it to explode in a billowing ellipse of darkness.


    The figure fell to a knee. William expected the fight to be over that instant, but the shadows held their circle, slowly revolving around the figure now struggling to stand. In the silence, William could make out their voices, overlaying whispers, more muted crowd noise than conversation. He focused his ears, trying to figure out what they were saying, but there were so many voices, it was impossible to tell when one stopped and another started. The kneeling figure spoke, the voice sounding louder than it should have due to Williams attention being wholly focused on the voices already..


    ¡°Fuck you. Fuck all of you. You want to kill me? Get on with it. I could use the break. It¡¯s not like I won¡¯t be back, and next time, I¡¯m going to get stronger, learn the secrets of this place quicker, and eventually, you¡¯re going to have to either let me die, or I¡¯m going to kill every single one of you assholes.¡±


    William started. The next time? Did that mean the figure was another patient? How did he get those abilities? Who were the shadow creatures attacking him? William had a dozen questions stampede through his head at once. He suddenly needed the figure to live. He needed answers. He stepped out from around the corner, drew in a breath of air to yell at the monsters, to distract them, but the figure again cut him off.


    ¡°Fine. Fuck it.¡±


    William exhaled sharply, the air he had taken in to yell released in a shocked huff as the figure conjured a dagger and plunged it into the side of the nearest creatures head. Instantly, they dropped to the ground. The shadow creatures circled for a few moments more before leisurely making their way back from the direction they had arrived, into the darkness between the buildings.


    William had ducked back out of view the instant the figure had hit the pavement, knowing that the shadows would be paying much more attention to their surroundings now that the figure was dead. He waited what felt like an appropriate amount of time before leaving cover and sprinting down the alley towards the body of the figure. Over the first few steps, he questioned the intelligence of running towards a dead body, likely to be noticed just in time to be considered a suspect to the murder, but he needed to see. He wasn¡¯t sure what he expected to find once he reached the body, but the angst that had built over not intervening before had built over the course of the fight, and now that the imminent threat had passed, he needed to see if there was anything to be learned from the body.


    On the surface, William knew that he was in a virtual world, but the thing about virtual worlds, especially realistic ones like this, was that in moments of high stress, they don¡¯t feel all that virtual. If you fall off a building, your fore brain understands that you are going to be fine, but the virtual wind rushing through your hair, the rapidly growing sounds of the surface crescendoing as the ground approaches, all convince your lizard brain that it¡¯s real. In that moment, your brain makes it real. William''s brain had made the shadow monsters real, but now that they had disappeared, his rational mind had kicked in, and it demanded he check the body. Would he find items? The concept of looting corpses in virtual worlds somehow made sense to him, and he suspected that he had played these sort of games before. In fact, the idea that he handled the entire encounter without melting down into a puddle of his own bodily fluids on the side of the street as he watched what was clearly a very supernatural battle suggested he had more than a passing understanding of them, even if his specific memories of those experiences were still lost to him.


    He reached the body, noting how there was no pool of slowly expanding blood, as he would have expected. Rolling it over, eh saw that the entire right side of the head and almost all of the face had crumbled away, It wasn¡¯t an organic process like melting or rotting, the rough texture of the remaining flesh had a angular, polygonal quality, as though the figure had been made out of glass blocks a quarter of an inch square, the outermost faces being painted with skin tone, fabric, hair, whatever surface they corresponded to on the figure. A moment after William turned the corpse over, and while his hand still rested on their shoulder, the entire body lost cohesion and collapsed into a pile of glass like crumbles as a chime sounded.


    He glanced up from the body, trying to decide which direction the sound had originated from, but a prompt appeared in his vision, floating like a transparent monitor.


    ITEMS OBTAINED


    CASH: $358


    MAGICAL TOME...UNIDENTIFIED.


    YOU LACK THE REQUISITE EXPERIENCE LEVELS


    TO READ OR IDENTIFY THIS TOME.


    William almost fell over. It worked. Sure, he had no idea what he had just gained, but it was something. It was also magical. The Doctor told him that this world had originated as a video game, and that not all of the game mechanics had been removed from the system, but at the time he hadn¡¯t given it much thought. Part of him was terrified, likely the part that had just watched the fight between the figure and the shadow monsters, but the rest of him was fascinated. Again, this all felt surprisingly up his alley. He chuckled, looking around.


    His alley indeed.

 CHAPTER 5 - Hospitality

    William exited the alleyway, the sun breaking across his face as he leaned against the building he had cowered against. It felt like waking up from a dream, or rather, nightmare. Several more prompts were hidden behind the first one that had appeared, informing him that he had unlocked various game mechanics, gained experience, etc. Surprisingly, the game world (he¡¯d begun thinking of the world as a game the instant the first prompt had appeared) allotted experience based on the activity or task completed.


    He¡¯d been told that in order to bring up his stats, he could simply summon it by thought. He¡¯d practiced pulling it up in the alleyway, marvelling at the novelty of it. The first few times, he¡¯d had to mentally speak the words USER INTERFACE, then STATISTICS, but after a few passes he got the hang of just willing the screen into place without the intervening steps.


    He pulled up his stats again, the right portion of the panel a vertical running tally of game events. He could scroll back up, reviewing events that hed already happened, which could come in handy if he found himself in a fight or running for his life and needed to figure out what happened after the fact.


    He scrolled up, pulling the few lines cut off by the top of the window into view.


    ITEMS OBTAINED


    CASH: $358


    MAGICAL TOME...UNIDENTIFIED.


    YOU LACK THE REQUISITE EXPERIENCE LEVELS


    TO READ OR IDENTIFY THIS TOME.


    EXPERIENCE GAINED: +2350 WISDOM, +1500 INTELLIGENCE


    EXPERIENCE TO NEXT LEVEL: 6,350


    William started reverse engineering the game mechanics of the new world in his head. He had no idea if the levelling/experience system scaled exponentially or not, he would just have to pay attention as he continued to accumulate experience and see, but he was off to a fairly decent start for not having done anything but hide. The system apparently thought that he made the right call, since it had rewarded him in Intelligence and Wisdom. He wondered if he had managed to fight off the monsters through melee combat if his strength, dexterity, etc would have gained experience.


    The entire concept of receiving experience by attribute confused him. In every game he had played, experience was just...experience. You totalled it up, and once you had enough of it, you reached the next level and assigned whatever bonus or skill points the game deemed appropriate. He put it aside in his mind, skimming his current stat levels, which he assumed had to have been pre-allotted by some arbitrary criteria. Maybe it measured his real world attributes and assigned him what it thought those qualities worked out to? There was so much he didn¡¯t know about this world. With a thought, his STATS screen came into view, and he read through it. A multicolored spreadsheet listed off all of his most important information, reducing the sum of his virtual existence into neat rows and columns.


    CHARACTER: WILLIAM


    CLASS: (EMPTY)


    RACE: HUMAN


    LEVEL: 1


    EXPERIENCE: 3,850


    EXP. TO NEXT LVL: 6,150


    HIT POINTS: 63


    STRENGTH: 7 (ADJ-0)


    DEXTERITY: 9 (ADJ-0)


    INTELLIGENCE: 16 (ADJ-0.15)


    CONSTITUTION: 9 (ADJ-0)


    CHARISMA: 12 (ADJ-0)


    WISDOM: 14 (ADJ-0.235)


    His eyes focused on the (ADJ-0.235) next to WISDOM, and after a moment, the math clicked in his head. The system assigned experience to each attribute because that is how you increased each attribute, by engaging in activities that used them. According to the napkin math he did in his head, that meant that for every 10,000 experience that he gained in each attribute, he¡¯d gain an additional stat point in that attribute. He double checked everything by looking it over several times, and it all checked out. It made sense, it happening automatically instead of having to assign the points with each level, since it would more accurately reflect your play style and encourage players to train their attributes through practice and actual gameplay, instead of simply min-maxing their character regardless of what happened in the game. He wished a few of the attributes had started off a little higher, though. Generally speaking, he tended to skew towards Rogue classes when he played RPG¡¯s, but the stats he saw before him suggested a mage build might come more naturally.


    Wait... was the magic tome a spellbook?


    The idea hit him like a shot of adrenaline. Magic. Actual magic. Well, virtual magic, but still. He rolled the idea over and over in his head, a stupid grin growing across his face. He could live with the ability to do magic. Of course, he had no idea how to actually become a mage. The CLASS designation on his character sheet was empty, and he assumed there was more to it than simply spinning in a circle three times chanting the word MAGE.


    Shaking his head, he cleared the prompts with a thought and looked around. The sun was definitely getting closer to sunset than sunrise, and he still had living arrangements to figure out. Popping his wallet out, he discovered the additional money he¡¯d looted from the hooded figure had appeared inside. He now had $658, which should at the very least get him a hotel room for the next few nights until he figured out his next step.


    Of course, the hotel wasn¡¯t going to come to him, so he tucked his wallet back into his pocket and continued on further into town. The buildings stretched off into the distance, progressively growing taller, giving him the impression that he was climbing a mountain. The stray thought entered his head that he¡¯d stumbled on a pretty apt metaphor for the economy. Larger buildings equated more money, meaning that if you wanted to get into those buildings, to either own them or to get jobs that increased in pay as you climbed the floors, it required a climb.


    He shook his head again, surprised by the metaphor but understanding that flowery ideas wouldn¡¯t get a roof over his head for the night. He pushed away from the wall he¡¯d been leaning against and started off in the direction he¡¯d been moving in before the fight had distracted him. He started walking, and...almost ran into someone moving in the opposite direction. He¡¯d been so wrapped up in his prompts, he hadn¡¯t noticed that all of the people had magically reappeared on the street. A few minutes ago, that would have tripped him out, but after witnessing the fight he had just seen, and spending time wrapping his head around the fact that the world around him was driven by math, and that he could pull up a holographic spreadsheet in front of him to get a glimpse behind it¡¯s curtain, he took it in stride. Maybe the people were computer controlled NPC¡¯s, or ¡°non player characters¡± that knew to hide when the shadow monsters appeared? It was the best answer he could come up with at the moment, so he went with it.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    One building caught his eye as he passed it, and he stopped to stare at the storefront. People were seated at tables on the large outdoor space that took up the 15 feet or so between the sidewalk and the canopy that shaded the front of the building. A wrought iron fence enclosed the space, which suggested that this building was at least as old as the larger structures looming over it. The entire mood was of a flower growing out of a crack in the sidewalk, and he found himself clutching the railing as he tried to figure out why he was smiling so damn much at a restaurant.


    But smiling he was. He must have lost track of time, because the next thing he knew, a woman''s voice spoke to him. He hadn¡¯t been aware of anyone sitting at the table next to where he was standing, but she sounded close. He took his eyes off the building and spotted a blonde haired woman sitting nearby, sipping on some sort of fancy coffee.


    ¡°You new around here?¡±


    Her voice was light, and something about it was instantly familiar. William had no idea what her name was, but thought that maybe he had met her in the past at some point, maybe even knew her. Then it came to him. it was the woman he had seen earlier during the attack, sipping the iced coffee. He instantly decided to not mention anything about the game mechanics until he knew more about her.


    ¡°I¡­¡±, he paused. ¡°You know? I¡¯m not sure.¡±


    ¡°Huh. That sounds like something you should know.¡±


    William shook his head ruefully.


    ¡°You would think.¡± He pointed at his temple with one hand, ¡°but I¡¯m having a hard time remembering things lately. Must have bumped my head.¡±


    The woman¡¯s face cycled through a range of emotions. First humor, assuming he was making a joke, then confusion, when she started to suspect he wasn¡¯t, before settling on concern, when she realized he had meant what he said.


    ¡°Oh my god, you¡¯re not joking.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t even a question.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. But it seems like the further I walk into the city, the more it starts to look familiar.¡±


    She glanced from him, to the cafe, and back.


    ¡°Is that why you¡¯re staring at the cafe like a lovesick puppy?¡±


    A corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smile. He must know this woman from somewhere. Part of him knew that he wouldn¡¯t take a casual stranger mocking him well, but that he accepted it from friends. He thought back to the doctor, and what she said about people from his memories populating the world. He assumed the woman must be one of those people. He wanted to sit down and talk to her, but him telling her that she looked familiar when she hadn¡¯t really acted like she knew who he was prevented him from saying so.


    ¡°Probably. Is it alright if I take the seat across from you while I wait to see if anything else comes back to me?¡±


    She gestured to the seat with her cup, still steaming in the chill air. He made his way around to the gap in the fence and over to the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m William.¡± He held out a hand to her to shake.


    ¡°Kristie.¡± She shook the offered hand.


    ¡°Nice to meet you, Kristie.¡± He felt good knowing that he had at least a modicum of social skills. It was something most people probably took for granted, but when you don¡¯t know anything about yourself, every feather in your cap, no matter how small, is a reassurance.


    She smiled back.


    He had so many questions, but didn¡¯t want to scare her off by unloading them on her so quickly after they just introduced themselves.


    ¡°So, if someone told you that they were new to the area, what would you feel they needed to know in order to survive around here?¡± His smile was slight, just enough to let her know he was using it as an opener to their conversation, but obvious enough to admit that he was telling the truth.


    She looked around at the tall buildings around them.


    ¡°Well, William, I would say that it¡¯s not a bad place to be. Usually, when people come her they¡¯re looking for something, and if they give this place a chance, they usually end up finding it.


    His smile faltered for a moment before he caught himself. It wasn¡¯t that there was anything wrong with what she said, but something the Doctor had said to him before came back.


    ¡°Artificially intelligent non-player characters will take the place of your loved ones, your adult family, and there will also be a suitable number of unrelated people created in the simulation to fill out the environment and make it more believable. Some of them are there to subtly help you along on your path to recovery. They¡¯ll never admit that, if asked, but they will still make every attempt to make sure you¡¯re moving towards where you need to be. You¡¯ll never be alone inside the simulation, not really.¡±


    Not knowing for sure who this woman was to him had slowly begun to form a pit of doubt in his chest. Was she one of those helpers that the Doctor had told him about, or was she someone that he should be more wary of, like the shadow monsters? She¡¯d stayed in her seat earlier during the attack, which made her seem more significant than the rest of the passersby that had disappeared and reappeared as though a mirage.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Kristie, with what sounded like genuine concern in her voice.


    ¡°Ahh, yeah. I¡¯m good.¡± William was a little embarrassed how his mind had wandered in the middle of a conversation like that. He decided that there was no way he could know what she wanted without getting more information, so he gave her his full attention, and got back to his questions.


    ¡°Any places you¡¯d recommend to stay? Like a hotel, I mean. I literally just set foot in the city half an hour ago, so I need to find a place to get something to eat and a roof over my head while I look for something more permanent.¡±


    Again, she glanced up, almost as though she were accessing some database of information in that direction.


    ¡°I¡¯d assume there are plenty of decent places in the city to stay for a night or two. And you can get something to eat right here.¡±


    She gestured at the restaurant behind her before handing him a menu. He tilted his head to the side, an affectation meant to show that he should have realized that already.


    ¡°Fair point.¡±


    He took the offered menu and began to survey it. It seemed to offer the usual light deli fare, with a substantial section of the menu dedicated to coffee and tea. The prices seemed reasonable, which was odd because he couldn¡¯t recall anything specific about prices he had paid in the past. He thought it interesting that he couldn¡¯t remember specifics, but the general sense of things remained. It was almost like his mind was on the highway, with a vague sense of where he was going, but he couldn¡¯t quite make out the text on the exit signs.


    ¡°I guess I¡¯ll try a sandwich?¡±


    His tone was more questioning than certain. Kristie laughed.


    ¡°Are you asking me, or telling me?¡±


    William smiled through his embarrassment. He hadn¡¯t meant to appear so indecisive.


    ¡°Sandwich, definitely. I think the turkey club sounds good. Do I need to order up there,¡± he gestured at the counter, ¡°or¡­¡±


    ¡°Got it, turkey club. Anything to drink?¡±


    A woman in an apron to his right smiled at him, waiting to take the rest of his order. It took everything in him to not jerk away at her surprise appearance. Had she been there before? For how long? William stammered on, again trying to hide his awkwardness.


    ¡°I¡¯ll, uhh...have a water, I guess.¡±


    She nodded and turned away, towards the counter.


    ¡°So...how long was she standing there? I didn¡¯t even see her.¡±


    Kristie was looking at something on her phone, and answered without looking up.


    ¡°Who, the waitress? She must have walked up when she saw you looking at the menu.¡±


    It sounded completely plausible to William, but in his gut he thought there was more to it. Assuming she was an NPC, it shouldn''t have been so surprising that she could pop into and out of existence, but the transition of it was going to take a little getting used to.

 Chapter 6 - Friends

    The waitress returned less than a minute later carrying the most amazing looking turkey club sandwich William could remember, but given his lack of memory, shouldn¡¯t have impressed him as much as it did. He grabbed one of the sections, cut diagonally in the traditional manner of club sandwiches, and sank his teeth into it. Flavor exploded into his mouth. First to reach his taste buds was the bread. Earthy, soft with a layer of toasting so ephemeral it shouldn¡¯t have been possible. Then, the mayo. Sweet, tangy, melding with the thinly sliced tomato as though they had grown up together. The lettuce was crisp and refreshing, gently caressing the roast turkey, which tasted as though each slice had been lightly braised and dusted with the perfect amount of seasoning. And finally, just before his teeth made it to the crust of the opposing slice of bread, the bacon entered into the kaleidoscope of flavor-crunchy, salty, it¡¯s texture easily discernible against the softer ingredients.


    The entire section disappeared a moment later, so quickly he wasn¡¯t quite sure he had even eaten it all. Somewhere around the time he took his first bite of the second section, he thought to question how this sandwich was so good. Was it just because he couldn¡¯t remember the taste of anything else, making this sandwich, by default, the tastiest thing he had ever eaten? Or was it really that good? As if to confirm, he took another bite, savoring it¡¯s layered perfection as he remembered where he was.


    He was inside a simulation. The sandwich, delicious as it was, wasn¡¯t real. It was just an expertly crafted sequence of ones and zeroes. His mouth faltered, pausing mid chew as he came to the realization. Had the flavors not been in his mouth as his mind made the connection, the sublime combination of disparate ingredients, somehow forming a sum greater than its parts, he might have put the section in his hand down.


    Compelled to swallow the contents of his mouth rather than make a scene, he took another moment to really think it over. The food was delicious, and did it really matter if it was real? Is food consisting of ones and zeroes not still food, when it exists in a world of ones and zeroes? Did knowing ¡°how the soup was made¡± have any tangible bearing on his enjoyment, other than the handicapping that went on inside his own mind? Did knowing that a turkey club sandwich in the real world, itself composed of atoms, ever stop him from enjoying it?


    ¡°Eh, when in rome¡­¡± He went to take another bite, only to realize that the section he had been holding in his hand was also now gone. He was either ravenous beyond comprehension, or the eating mechanics of this simulation needed to be tweaked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± Kristie was looking at him.


    He shook his head, indicating to her that he hadn¡¯t said anything worth explaining.


    ¡°Nothing. Just talking to myself.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t do that in public, people will think you¡¯re crazy.¡±


    William paused his chewing to look at her, and something in his face caused her to burst out laughing.


    ¡°Oh my god...I¡¯m joking. Relax.¡±


    William tried to play it off as if he was in on the joke, but her comment hit a little too close to home, when he thought about how little he knew about his mental state.


    ¡®I know.¡± It came out slightly muffled, spoken as it was through the half chewed wad of turkey club in his mouth, but she seemed to understand as she chuckled at his expense. He took another bite immediately after swallowing, using the affectation to put distance between the present and his awkward gaffe. Perhaps trying to bail him out, Kristie continued.


    ¡°You said you were new to the area, and didn¡¯t have a place to stay, right?¡±


    William swallowed, pausing a moment to note that the entire sandwich had now disappeared from his plate. Had he not already decided that it was some form of in game mechanic, the way the system handled eating, it would have been unnerving. He certainly felt as though he had eaten the entire sandwich, his stomach having abandoned the strangled gurgling sounds from earlier, but it bothered him on some level that the simulation wanted to cut corners on the more enjoyable aspects of life in the digital world.


    He wondered if other enjoyable endeavors inside the simulation came with the same shorthanded existence. Was sex that way in the sim as well? Would he just climb on top of someone, get a thrust or two into a marathon lovemaking session, and then wake up exhausted in bed lying next to them? He hoped not.


    ¡°Earth to William?¡±


    Kristie¡¯s hand waved in front of his face, breaking him out of his internal contemplation of abridged sexytime.


    ¡°Y..yeah, sorry. Yes. I haven¡¯t found a place yet.¡±


    Kristie looked at him, as though thinking something over.


    ¡°You know, I actually have a freshly emptied apartment you could stay in for a night or two, until you get your feet under you. It¡¯s just an efficiency, so it won¡¯t impress any guys or girls you might bring over, but it¡¯s furnished.¡±


    Her comment about bringing people over had strayed uncomfortably close to mind reading, given his interrupted train of thought. Coupled with her timely offer to meet his needs so far, he decided that she must be a helper NPC, and decided it was safe to take her up on her offer. He decided to press a little to be sure though. Apparently looking a gift horse in the mouth was part of his DNA.


    ¡°That would be awesome. I can actually pay you for the room for a few nights, whatever you feel is fair.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t leave a new friend out in the cold when they just arrived in my city. What kind of hostess would I be if I did that?¡± Her tone was chiding him, indicating tat she could tease as good as she got.


    ¡°Well then, here''s to new friends, and not sleeping out in the cold.¡±


    The words came out more self-assured than they had any right to be. Kristies expression then did a curious thing - it went from confused, a lopsided grimace with narrowed eyes to a lopsided smirk and a gaze that showed a kindness which wasn¡¯t there a moment ago. There was no discernable transition, the shift happened with such an economy of motion that William almost would have forgotten all about her momentary confusion had he not been watching closely.


    ¡°Sure. Everybody needs friends, right?¡±


    Her words were honest, with no hint of sarcasm or malice, and William returned her smile. She was clearly placed there to give him a hand. Nobody warmed that quickly to a perfect stranger if they aren¡¯t being told to.


    He wasn¡¯t sure how he was supposed to act towards her. Part of him wanted to see how far he could push the programming, to see how long she would continue to be helpful. The other part of him was still worried that she was a real person, that he¡¯d offend her or drive her away by acting erratically.


    In the end, his need for shelter won out.


    "Let me pay my tab, and we can go."


    ********


    William stepped from the bathroom, a carpet of billowing steam chasing the door and spilling into the livingroom of Kristie¡¯s small apartment. She kept the air conditioning on 24/7, which not only frigid 60 degree microclimate in the space, but also caused strange phenomena like any warm moist air, such as from a shower of faucet creating steam comparable to an antique locomotive.


    He had vague memories of a figure dressed in black with a long cape entering rooms amidst a similar amount of smoke, but couldn¡¯t for the life of him remember the figures name. Garth? Mater? Something like that. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    One of the things William had discovered as his memory began to come back to him was that sometimes the process of retrieving disjointed, useless bits of information, and the resulting frustration of knowing part of something, was often more irritating than not knowing anything at all.


    He glanced at the answering machine for the fifth time that day, hoping to spot the tell tale red blinking light that meant he had missed a call from one of the dozen or so job postings he had applied to over the past week, but the beige and black hunk of plastic remained inert on the counter as he passed it. In truth, he was beginning to wonder how long Kristie¡¯s hospitality would remain in effect, ingrained artificial intelligence or not.


    Stepping into his bedroom, he made his way over to the clothes he¡¯d laid out onto the bedside chair and began getting dressed. Underwear, socks, pants, shirt, the motions robotic. In truth, he no longer worried about recovering his memories. He knew they would come back in time, which left him headspace to worry about more pressing matters, like how to navigate this new world, with it¡¯s game mechanics that nobody seemed to know anything about. Perhaps, if the hooded man with the shadow daggers had survived the attack, he could have gotten some answers.


    Clothed, he turned on the small FM radio atop the table to the right of the bed. One of the quirks of the digital construct, it always seemed to know exactly what music he was in the mood for. An electric guitar, strummed to an upbeat tempo with synthesizer backing filtered through the room.


    The music made him feel more grounded than anything else, surprising because according to the doctor, this world had literally been created from his memories. His expectations upon arriving were that he would be awash in familiarity, but that hadn¡¯t been the case. Sure, there were occasional bits that drew him in, half truths from the past that did little more than frustrate him at his inability to locate where he had seen them before, but so far the experience had felt more like a crate of puzzles bought from a discount store, marked down because they were incomplete.


    William flopped back onto the bed, somewhere in the back of his mind understanding that the resulting sound of simulated straining springs were a problem that had already been solved in the future of the present. He tried to put his problems in order of which needed to be solved first. His obvious first issue was that he needed to find employment, but he tempered that with the understanding that the world around him was literally designed to prevent him from failing, which made him feel both a little better and irritated that it hadn¡¯t already stepped in.


    ¡°Maybe the point is to struggle.¡±


    He murmured it towards the ceiling, deciding to try out vocalizing his frustrations for a change. Grasping for understanding, his mind instantly grabbed onto the idea of suffering as a means of progress, wondering if the system indeed required him to overcome a minimum amount of adversity for the memories to stick or make sense. It made sense. The Doctor had straight up told him that it wouldn¡¯t help to just give him the information, and that he would have to allow it to all piece itself together over time.


    Which, frankly...sucked.


    Lost in his thoughts and self-pity, he missed the sound of the phone ringing for the first few cycles. Coming back to reality, he pushed off the bed, coaxing out another squawk from the antiquated springs, and dashed out to the livingroom where the phone sat.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    The voice on the other end was jovial, as though most of their days in life had been pretty decent.


    ¡°Yes, is this William Kenney?¡±


    William¡¯s pulse quickened, which he knew on some level was a little overdramatic for a potential job interview from any of the low level service industry jobs he¡¯d applied for.


    ¡°Yes, this is William.¡±


    ¡°Ah, good. My name is Carl, I¡¯m the store manager at the Dollar World on 4th and Vanguard, and I¡¯m setting up interviews over the next couple of days for a stockperson position. It says here on your application that you¡¯re open to, and I¡¯m quoting here-any position you have. Is that still accurate?¡±


    William pulled the receiver away from his mouth and exhaled, not wanting to sound too relieved.


    ¡°I am. I¡¯m available whenever you can fit me in.¡±


    There was a pause, and William worried that he had made the mistake of sounding too overeager. He might not know his parents'' names at the moment, but even he knew that was usually considered a red flag for some reason, even if on paper it should sound like exactly what a potential employer should be looking for.


    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s great. How is this afternoon? Say, around 3:30?¡±


    William glanced at the clock on the answering machine beside the phone. The clock read a little after 1:30pm. He knew he only needed around half an hour to get there, based on his previous trips downtown.


    ¡°Sure, I can be there before then.¡±


    For some reason the saying ¡°on time is late¡± sprang to mind. It always struck him as strange how the easiest memories to recover were the least useful.


    ¡°Great, I¡¯ll see you then.¡±


    William hung up the phone and clenched a fist in the air in silent celebration.


    Around two hours later, William pushed open the door the Dollar World on the corner of 4th and Vanguard. The smell of early 90¡¯s department store hit him in the face, the low grade chemicals used to polish the floor, the arid air and accompanying smell of cardboard. A woman, looking distinctly bored at her position behind the lone open cash register, gave him a polite smile. The emotion of waiting around, feeling trapped by a timeclock with little to do washed over him, and he assumed it came from some psychologically desolate job he had worked in the past.


    He returned the smile, summoning the commiserating knot in the back of his mind to power the expression.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to speak to Carl?¡±


    ¡°You here for an interview?¡±


    Her voice sounded almost desperate for social interaction. William wondered for the first time if the store even had enough business to warrant three employees.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She gave him a brief once over, sizing him up before tilting her head towards the rear of the store.


    ¡°He¡¯s in the back. Just use the door leading to the restrooms in the back left corner, and go through the double doors in the back and into the stockroom. His desk is just around the corner.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    William felt her eyes on his back as he walked away. She wasn¡¯t unattractive, but had the exhausted patina of ¡°recently separated single mom¡±. That didn¡¯t feel like a deal breaker for him, but something in the back of his head urged him to stay away. There was also the fact that she was more than likely code strung out on a mainframe somewhere, and he had a hard time getting hard knowing that.


    Nothing stuck out to him as especially memorable or interesting in the store as he made his way to the back corner. He pushed open the back door, a solid gray painted steel number that seemed excessively dense for an interior model. As it broke contact with the threshold, muffled screams and yelling rushed out like a compromised hatch on the Titanic.


    William couldn¡¯t make out anything specific, but the rage in the voice was apparent. He glanced around, reaffirming that he was in the right place, then continued on down the hallway. He wasn¡¯t sure what his plan was if the shouting turned out to be anything physically violent, and his mind instantly began making possible explanations for what could be causing the tirade. Was  it the manager, chewing out a distributor that was gouging him on prices? Another employee, quickly approaching the end of their illustrious career as a Dollar Store employee? William knew the answer would be apparent once he passed through the partially closed door at the end of the hall, so he slowed as he reached it. The voice that resolved into further focus was sarcastic, insulting in a way that sounded familiar to William for some reason. Not the voice, per se, but the tone.


    ¡°Jesus. You fucking cuck. You are useless. Why don¡¯t you do us all a favor and go slit your wrists and jerk off in the blood until you pass out?¡±


    William raised an eyebrow at the comment. Something gave him the impression that the person the mystery male voice was talking to wasn¡¯t physically in the room, so the risk of physical violence became more remote. He slowly pressed the door open, making his way into the sparse industrial shelves in the warehouse section in the rear of the store.


    He heard a bang, like someone slamming a fist to a countertop or desk, followed by another string of expletives. Tentatively, William peeked out around the corner or a shelf packed with discount toilet paper, and saw a middle aged man sitting in front of a computer monitor, frantically clicking a mouse as he screamed into a headset. Small characters chased each other down narrow pathways on the screen, clashing in battle.


    ¡°God, you suck. Your whole team sucks. You¡¯re just a bunch of sweaty bitches all coming after me because I¡¯m worth any two of you. Why don¡¯t you uninstall this game and give your PC¡¯s to a blind hobo on the street, someone who might give me a game.¡±


    William relaxed. There was no fight here, just a middle aged man sneaking in a round or two of some online game William wasn¡¯t familiar with before his interview arrived. He assumed the guy wanted the woman at the front desk to page him or otherwise give him a heads up when William arrived, but the cashier was probably the strongest personification of ¡°that¡¯s not my job¡± William could ever remember seeing, which, admittedly, wasn''t saying much. He took a few steps back, moving back through the doorway, which he partially closed behind himself, leaving only a small gap for which to shout through.


    ¡°Hello? I¡¯m supposed to meet Carl for an interview?¡±


    He could hear the clatter of computer hardware as Carl, the manager of the Dollar Store, jerked his headset off and exited his game. A moment later, he spoke.


    ¡°Umm, back here.¡±


    William did what felt like a commendable job of hiding his smile as he made his way back to the desk. Carl stood up, his eyes a little frantic, his cheeks flushed.


    ¡°Thanks for coming in.¡±


    He extended a hand, which William shook.