The short path led beneath two massive silver trees whose branches arched and intertwined overhead, forming a living gateway into a large oval shaped bower. The space was ringed by tightly spaced trunks, their branches laced high above into a domed canopy. Soft azure light filtered through the leaves, bright enough to see clearly, but easy on the eyes.

  In the center, several marked off areas contained everything from a squat rack and weight bench to what looked like a puzzle board and a table strewn with building blocks and tools. People milled about, some setting up stations and chatting, others sitting quietly, reading, or resting with eyes closed.

  “Welcome to the testing bower,” Arthur said, sweeping an arm toward the scene. “This is where we get your baseline stats. The better you do here, the better your starting toon will be.”

  At her quizzical look, he held up a hand. “A toon is your character, your avatar. We gamers,” he added with an exaggerated sneer, “call them toons.”

  Mav gave a sheepish shrug. “Otay, I deserve that for being so judgy. Sorry. And thank you for anticipating my question, there’s so much game lingo, isn’t there?”

  “Oh, hell, it’s its own language,” Arthur replied with a mischievous glint. “Once you learn it, you can talk for hours and no one will know what the fuck you’re saying except other gamers. It’s kind of fun, actually.”

  They walked a few more steps before he stopped and turned toward her, keeping his voice low. “I forgot to mention the NPCs. Remember our talk about non-player characters? The goodies?” Mav nodded.

  “These folks here are exactly that, NPCs. They’re computer generated assistants here to run the tests. They can be a little robotic, limited programming but they’re still impressive constructs. Just… they’re not about to ace the Turing test.”

  “Then why are we whispering?” Mav asked, feeling silly.

  Arthur’s mouth quirked. “Because their creator isn’t simple, and he can be fickle. I’m not in the mood to chat with him today. The AGSIs are nearly sentient and can take things personally. Best not to insult Phantasos’s work.” He shrugged, looking a little sheepish.

  ‘That’s weird. Why care what the program thinks? It’s not like it can do anything to him. Still… he’s playing nice, so I guess I will too.’ Mavis thought with a small frown.

  They crossed to the first testing area, a roped-off square with an opening opposite a larger zone of weight equipment. An older bald man stood in the center, clipboard in hand, his bearing regal, posture perfect.

  “Good afternoon, Kamehameha, and who is your companion today?” the man asked in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder.

  “Hello, Jarvis.” Arthur glanced at Mav’s raised eyebrow. “Hold up, right. I forgot. You get to choose a unique in-game name. Something that sets you apart. Mine’s Kamehameha, it’s ancestral. Half my family is Hawaiian and we can trace our lineage back to the first king of the islands. No jokes about royalty please, I’ve heard them all before. You can call me Kame like everyone else.”

  “Awwww,” Mav teased, drawing the word out. “Kame, huh? Royalty, well then, can I get knighted?.”

  “Cut it!” Arthur shot back playfully. “It’s not that kind of royalty, thanks.” The faint grin tugging at his mouth betrayed his mock irritation.

  “Ok, Kame it is.” She turned to the NPC. “Sorry, Jarvis, right. Wait, like the Jarvis?” She asked with incredulity.

  “Yes, miss. Jarvis, at your service. I am not sure which other Jarvis you are speaking of, I am sorry, I am the only Jarvis I know of. And who do I have the honor of speaking with today?” He poised his pen to write. Mav cocked her head at the response, sure she’d seen a small, quivering smile on the NPCs face as he’d answered.

  “He’s asking for your in-game name, not your real one,” Arthur explained. “Most players go by a handle for anonymity. Each name’s unique, if someone’s already got yours, you might have to get creative with symbols or numbers. Millions of players means a lot of the cool ones are already taken.”

  “Oh,” Mav said, lips pressed in thought. ‘If I’m only here for therapy, why bother? Still… might as well play along.’ She sifted through her favorite things.

  ‘Spartan? Probably taken. Gorgo? Likely gone. Cakebread? Nah. Pandas… I love pandas.’ She smiled, remembering her stuffed panda collection, gifts from her dad after trips to China.

  ‘Ok, no, no pandas, to, I don’t know, weird… something from my parents? Mavika, no, doesn't convey the meaning. Ugh, this is ridiculous, all this for a name.’

  Turning back to the men, well, one man and one digital construct, she announced, “Mav… um, yeah…” A spark hit. “Mavitsune.”

  Arthur let out a whistle and held out his fist. “Damn, girl, that’s a fine fucking name. Where in the nine hells did that come from?” She bumped his massive fist with hers.

  “Well… my dad used it as my nickname when I was a kid. It’s a blend of my name and tsune which means always or steadfast. It was a common samurai era name ending. Implies loyalty and endurance, also, reminds me of him.” She looked down, a little embarrassed.

  “I think that’s a great name, and a cool way to honor your folks.” Arthur pulled her into a quick one-armed hug, then turned her toward Jarvis. “Ok, Jarvis, take it away.”

  “Miss Mavitsune,” Jarvis intoned with a bow, “welcome to Eclipse Nexus. I have a message from the creators for you to watch, then we’ll begin your initial statistics testing.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He flicked his pen toward her, and her HUD lit up:

  Would you like to play a game?

  [Yes][No]

  ‘Actually, no, I wouldn’t like to play a fucking game. But someone hit me with a car, and apparently the only way I’ll walk again is by playing one. So sure, motherfucker, let’s play a game.’ She inwardly groused and locked her gaze on [Yes].

  It flashed and white light filled her vision. When her eyes cleared, the bower, the testing equipment, the NPCs, and Arthur were gone, replaced by an expansive vista of mountaintops. The sun hung low to her left, staining the sky in curling ribbons of gold, crimson, and violet.

  Two men stood before her. One wore combat fatigues, a vest with a knife sheathed on one side, and a belt with pouches and a holstered pistol. A shoulder strap held a rifle slung barrel down against his hip. Mud clung to his boots, and his clothing bore an assortment of stains. Dark hair peeked from beneath a black ball cap with a patch she couldn’t quite make out. His warm brown eyes met hers with an easy smile.

  In contrast, the other man wore a long, ivory colored robe adorned with Chinese dragons embroidered across the chest. A heavy cloak draped his broad shoulders, falling behind him to his ankles. A hood shadowed most of his face; only a strong chin and the straight line of his nose showed when the light caught him just so.

  “Welcome,” the first man said. “To Eclipse Nexus. I’m Ian, and this is Doug.” He gestured to the robed man, who gave a small wave without speaking. “This,” Ian continued, sweeping his arm toward the breathtaking view, “is the world we created for you. Now, I know what you’re thinking…” he lifted a hand to forestall her, “What the hell? I want to get to gaming. Who are these asshats?” He finished the line with a grin toward Doug.

  “Hi,” Doug began, his voice smooth but slightly amused. “As Ian said, I’m Doug, the other asshat.” He chuckled. “Being gamers ourselves, we figured we should have a little chat before you dive in, because you and I both know you didn’t read a single well worded warning of the waiver you signed… just like we wouldn’t have either.” His tone made her smirk despite herself. “Before we get into it, let us say: thank you for choosing to play in the worlds we’ve built. We truly hope you enjoy them all.” He stepped back, letting Ian take over.

  “Absolutely, thank you,” Ian echoed. “And so we don’t keep you from dragon slaying, outlaw hunting, or zombie crushing for too long, we’ll make this quick.” As he spoke, he pulled the knife from his chest holster and began idly spinning it in intricate patterns, punctuating his words with quick, precise jabs at the air.

  “Firstly,” Doug said, stepping forward, “let’s talk about the obvious, no headset and the nanoneural feedback tech. Freaking cool, huh?” The faint humor in his voice carried even through the shadows of his hood. “You got the full briefing at the lab when you had the nanos introduced and your body scanned, so I won’t repeat everything. But since this is the cornerstone of our work, we’ll hit the high points again. This tech can have some unique side effects on human physiology, most notably, a higher level of fitness and weight loss.”

  Mav’s brow rose. ‘Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.’

  “Even while your body’s sedated, your muscles will twitch and work as you take on legions of kobolds or the undead. Just make sure you follow your prompts from the user interface and log when you’re told to. If you don’t, you’ll be forcibly logged out within twenty minutes of the third warning, for your own safety, usually to hydrate and eat. And if that happens, you won’t be able to log back in for two real-world hours.” His tone hardened slightly. “And yeah, we all know that blows. So follow the prompts.”

  With a quick motion, he gestured at the ground. A chair shimmered into existence behind him, and he dropped into it as Ian stepped forward.

  “In that light, let’s hit point two: time,” Ian said. “Like Doug mentioned, this was in the waivers, but who reads that crap? In-game, we run on a ten-to-one compression ratio. Every ten minutes here is one minute in the real world. An hour here? Six minutes out there. So while you’ll still need to take care of your body, you’ll have much more time to build your castle, your mansion, or your apocalypse fortifications.”

  He grinned at her expression. “How does it work? That’s proprietary. But enjoy it. Oh, and there will always be two clocks in your HUD: EN time and Real time. You can set alarms or timers with your AVI. Check your UI guide for the how to.”

  Doug leaned forward in his chair. “Which brings us to feedback, specifically, pain.” His mouth twisted into a faint grimace. “Yes, I said pain. In our quest for true immersion, what we call TIER we’ve used neuralnano feedback to replicate the sensations of living in Eclipse Nexus. You’ll feel the sun’s warmth, the scent of gunpowder, the taste of elvish wine…” His hands moved in slow, deliberate gestures, and faint illusions appeared around him: a glowing sun, the smoking barrel of a gun, a pitcher of deep amber wine pouring into a cup.

  “…and you’ll also feel the claws of a tiger tearing into your skin, the heat of a bullet punching into your chest, or the cold dread as a horde of dark dwarves comes charging down on you.” The illusions shifted in sync with his words, her eyes lingering on the unnervingly realistic image of a lion’s silhouette striking from behind.

  ‘Pain? Why would they want anyone to feel pain?’ Mav thought, a twist of unease curling in her stomach. ‘Discomfort, sure. But pain seems… extreme.’

  As if answering her, Doug continued, “Why pain? Why not just a flashing damage alert in your HUD? Two reasons. One, we’re building total immersion. Pain is real, so it should be part of your virtual life as well. Two, we wanted consequences for your choices. If you’ve ever jumped off a tall building just to save time or trained a monster into a friend’s camp for laughs…” he pointed at Ian, who replied with a certain familiar finger “... you’ll think twice with TIER feedback in play.”

  “The answer is simple, we all have done similar things and more, because we couldn’t feel the pain of our avatars. With the TIER system providing feedback, you’ll think twice before leaping off your flying mount or letting your avatar starve while you farm maniacally for that one last bit of rare ore.” He said, a pick axe appearing in his hands. He struck the ground hard and bent to pick up a small glowing bit of rock, tossing it to Ian with a grin.

  Ian caught the tossed glowing stone from Doug and smirked. “Now, let's not be too scared of a little pain my friends, pain is weakness leaving the body, the Marines say. But don’t worry,we’re not sadists. Default pain settings start at thirty percent, and even the max is locked at fifty for you masochistic types out there. Catastrophic injuries have rapid pain reduction, like real-world shock.”

  Doug flicked his fingers, dissolving the glowing stone into sparks that died out in a small shower of light. “And trust me, thirty percent will surprise you. Wait before you go higher.” He stood, the chair dematerializing behind him. “Anything else we forgot, Ian?”

  “Nah,” Ian said easily. “If we did, they’ll find out soon enough.” Something small and round flashed in Ian’s hand, then he flicked it at her before she could react. It expanded, swallowing her in darkness.

  “Good luck, players,” their voices said in perfect unison, echoing from everywhere at once. “And have fun. Never forget, it’s just a game.”

  The darkness peeled away, and Mav found herself once again standing in the bower beside Arthur, Jarvis waiting with clipboard in hand.

  “Excellent, Miss Mavitsune, welcome back.” His voice resonated in the enclosed space, ceremonial yet inviting. “If you’d like to change into athletic attire, I can facilitate that. Then we’ll begin determining your starting statistics.”

  Still feeling a ghost of the mountain vista and the tension of another place entirely, Mav simply nodded. “Sure,, training gear sounds nice.” She stepped into the marked square with the squat rack and weights, the afterimage of that other world still clinging faintly to the edges of her thoughts.