Silas clicked pause. The video froze mid-swing, Quinn’s elbow an inch from the officer’s nose, her face twisted into an ugly snarl. Slowly, Silas swiveled around to look at her, a stony expression on his face.
“Not my best angle,” Quinn admitted, arms crossed. The shaky footage had been shot from above, framed by a dirty curtain. “Really nailed the whole feral raccoon aesthetic.”
“It’s not funny,” he said, glaring at her. “You promised to keep a low profile. Enlighten me—how does attacking compliance officers accomplish that?”
“Well excuse me for not scheduling my assault in a nice, empty desert. Next time, I’ll be sure to ask if they can pencil me in somewhere private. What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” Silas muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But was it necessary to steal his credits and insult him? You could try subtlety for once.”
From the living room came Sophie’s high-pitched squeal followed by Dolores metallic voice questioning the “structural integrity” of forts built with rubber spatulas. Quinn’s mouth twitched despite herself.
She turned back, pretending not to hear him. “How’d you even find out so fast? That was only a few hours ago.”
Silas gave her a dry look. “Because it’s everywhere. Your face is plastered all over social media. Even Dolores found out and asked if you needed legal counsel. Which—” he gestured vaguely toward the door, “—you kind of do.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “You hate people. Didn’t peg you for a doomscroller.”
“Information is power,” he said gruffly. “Consider that your first lesson. The more informed you are, the better your chances at staying alive. You need to start taking this seriously.”
“Look…” she snapped. “I’m not going to let some power-tripping creep assault me. I’m not sorry. And I’d do it again. Can we just—move on?”
Silas sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Since you’ve registered already, it won’t matter soon enough anyway. We might as well start training.”
“Actually…” Quinn said sheepishly, tugging on her sleeve. “I haven’t registered yet. I was hoping I could do that here.”
“Of course you haven’t. Why am I not surprised.”
“You know I don’t have a computer,” she shot back. “How was I supposed to do it?”
“Right. One day I’ll stop enabling your terrible ideas,” he said wearily, wheeling back towards his monitors. His fingers rattled across the keyboard in quick succession. From the living room came another burst of Sophie’s laughter, followed by Dolores declaring, “The fort is a death trap! Collapse is imminent!” A cushion hit the wall with dull whump.
Silas pulled up Eterna’s website, the glow from the screens glinting off his glasses. “Looks like we are just in time,” he said, navigating their sleek menu. “The cut-off for registering is tomorrow.”
Quinn leaned forward as he spun the monitor around. The registration form sprawled across the screen, lines of text broken up by drop-down options and checkboxes. It looked less like a death contract and more like she was signing up for a discount plan for government-issued painkillers.
She cracked her fingers and flexed them over the keyboard. “Alright,” she said, typing in her name. “Let’s hope they validate parking.”
It took Quinn more than an hour to slog through the extremely invasive form. It wanted to know everything about her including if her great Aunt ever had lung cancer. She wasn’t even sure if she had a great Aunt, let alone a normal one. It wasn’t like her dad ever took them on wholesome family reunions to Iowa every summer, where her biggest worry would’ve been the corn casserole.
At the end came a wall of fine print that Silas insisted they read thoroughly, which she ended up being grateful for. Quinn had no idea where Sophie would stay while she was competing, but they had an answer.
Dependent Care and Guardianship Clause
All registered Players shall be considered under the protection of Veyra Corporation for the duration of active competition. In the event a Player is the sole guardian of a minor dependent, the minor shall be designated as Pending Guardianship and transferred to one of Veyra’s certified Childcare Facilities. Said facilities are secure environments designed to ensure the health, safety, and well-being of minors, and include licensed Guardian Units for supervision. All nutritional, medical, educational, and recreational needs will be met in full until the conclusion of the Player’s competition cycle.
“I guess Sophie will have to stay at one of these facilities while I’m gone,” Quinn said. “I worry about her being all alone like that.”
Silas glanced at the door, through which they could hear Sophie’s tinkling laughter. Dolores was loudly counting down in her stiff monotone: “Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!”
He turned back around to see Quinn staring at the door also. “Sophie is good with care robots,” he said quietly. “She’ll be ok.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said. Turning back to the form, they read the final paragraph before her required digital signature.
By registering, Players acknowledge and accept that Veyra Corporation bears no liability in the event of injury, psychological distress, or death that may occur during active competition. Should a Player perish during competition, they may elect to contribute their remains to Veyra’s Scientific Advancement Program in exchange for a monetary reimbursement to designated beneficiaries.
The cursor blinked beside the box: Would you like to contribute your remains upon death? Quinn clicked Yes. Thinking about what Veyra would use her body for gave her the creeps, but she would do whatever it took to make sure Sophie was provided for. She took a deep breath and typed in her digital signature. The submit button gleamed at the bottom of the page.
Silas watched her, a crease forming in his forehead. “This is it,” he said. “No going back. Are you sure?”
A hard expression filled Quinn’s eyes. She clicked Submit.
A confirmation page with a sterile message appeared in bright corporate font: Thank you for registering for Eterna. Further details have been sent to your email address.
Quinn opened her inbox. The confirmation email was already there, stamped at the top with Veyra’s logo.
“Pickup is scheduled for six days from now. You and Sophie will be escorted directly to a regional hub.” Silas leaned back, running a hand through his greasy hair. “That gives us barely any time to train.”
“Guess so. No going back now, though,” Quinn said, staring blankly at the screen. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
They decided to grab a quick lunch before training. Dolores, skilled in more than just frying bacon, had prepared grilled sandwiches and soup for everyone. Sophie proudly announced she had helped “by not spilling the juice this time,” then promptly tipped her soup bowl over. Quinn was anxious to start training and wolfed her sandwich down faster than Silas could retreat when confronted with shampoo.
After lunch, Dolores settled on the couch with Sophie and a book, leaving Quinn and Silas to go train.
“I know you’ve never used a VR rig before,” Silas said as he wheeled back into the computer room. “But that’s how we’ll train. Eterna uses something similar, though I’m sure theirs is far more advanced. They link your consciousness to the game, tethering your in-game state to your life. But this is what I have, so it’s what we’ll use.”
Quinn eyed the rig warily in the corner of the room. A dented cage-like metal frame held up a body harness, the edges frayed from use. Bolted to the frame was a cracked vinyl seat with a bulky headset sitting on top, its matte black plastic decorated with scratches.
“Eterna is known for having no training platform,” Silas grunted, reaching behind a box-like tower to flip a switch. The machine whirred to life with a low hum. Several blue and green lights blinked on along the harness, casting the room in a neon glow. “So, we’ll have to use a different game to practice. Luckily, I’ve got just the thing.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Quinn muttered, picking up the harness and examining it. “Should I put this on?”
“Yes. Be careful of the visor though. It’s got a crack that likes to snag hair.”
Quinn positioned herself inside the frame, loosening the straps on the harness. “What game are we playing?” she asked, slipping on the vest and securing the velcro.
“It’s called Dominion,” he said, his fingers rattling over the keyboard. The title bloomed across one of the monitors in a bold, medieval font. “But what matters is the kind of game we are playing. Put the visor on, and I’ll load you in.”
Quinn struggled with the bulky headset, the straps catching her hair before she finally pushed it down over her eyes. It was like being shoved into a shoebox. Feeling disoriented, she groped behind her for the seat and carefully lowered herself onto it.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Ok, I’m launching it now,” Silas’s voice came directly into her ear.
The loading screen for Dominion flooded her vision, causing her to jump.
“Usually, you design your character in this game,” Silas said into her ear. “But…we’re going to skip that part.”
“Why? That sounds fun.”
“Because I don’t want to sit here for twelve hours while you pick a hair color,” he said dryly.
Before she could retort, the loading screen vanished.
Quinn abruptly found herself staring at the rough bark of a tree. She jumped back with a start and wildly looked around. Her stomach lurched as the scene moved with her head, as if she were really there.
She was standing at the edge of a forest beside a winding dirt road. The path wound lazily into the distance toward a cluster of cottages with thatched roofs, chimneys puffing sleepy spirals of smoke into the blue sky. Rolling hills of soft grass and wildflowers spread out between her and the town, birds chirping overhead.
It was breathtaking. Quinn couldn’t remember a moment when she hadn’t been surrounded by sirens blaring or the unhinged screaming of strangers on the street. She’d grown so used to the city’s constant noise that she hadn’t realized she no longer heard it—until it was gone. This place felt so peaceful in comparison.
Several colored bars and symbols hovered in her vision. When she turned her head to look around, they stayed locked in place and didn’t move.
“The overlay is called the User Interface,” Silas’s voice buzzed in her ear. “UI for short. Red bar’s your health, yellow’s stamina. Compass at the top keeps you from getting lost, though I know that won’t stop you. See that little satchel icon? That’s where everything you steal ends up. Standard RPG setup. That means role-playing game.”
Quinn squinted at the bars, forehead creasing. “Feels like I have a receipt stapled to my face.” She swiped at them, but her hand slid right through, the icons stubbornly hovering in place.
Silas chucked. “Yeah, I can imagine it would,” he said. “Now try to touch something.”
She mentally tried to step forward. To her utter astonishment, her body obeyed. In an instant, she was right next to the tree, her palm hovering over its rough bark. Quinn’s eyes widened. “How did I do that?”
“The vest picks up your muscle signals,” Silas explained. “Even if you’re not walking, your brain is giving the command. The rig just translates it.”
“So cool…” she whispered. She reached out and her hand obeyed, resting on the tree trunk. She half expected to feel the rough bark under her fingers but instead felt nothing. A description box popped up in her vision.
“My rig’s outdated,” Silas said. “It doesn’t have a transmitter for sensory feedback. No touch, no smell. Just sight and sound.”
“That’s fine,” Quinn said, grinning. “This is the fucking tits.”
He laughed. “Good. Now try picking up some stuff. There are sticks and rocks in the grass you can get. Try there first.”
She wandered into the grass, spotted a twig and reached down to pick it up. Another box appeared.
“If you mentally click on the satchel icon, you’ll see it in your inventory,” Silas said.
She focused on the bag, and a menu appeared, lined with tabs. The active one read Inventory across the top. The twig sat neatly in a grid of empty slots. She mentally clicked on it, and it appeared in her hand.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” she said delightedly, brandishing the twig like a sword. She put it back in her inventory. Soon she was running around, gleefully scooping up rocks and flowers, her inventory quickly filling.
Standing up, she held a flower she just plucked to her nose and inhaled. Silas had warned her smell didn’t work, but she still had to try. “This is ama—”
WHAM!
Quinn went flying, the scenery blurring past her. A tree zoomed rapidly into view until—SLAM! She smashed headlong into it, and everything went black.
“What the fuck!” she shouted, thrashing around in the sudden dark. A message appeared across her vision:
The little village and rolling hills shimmered back into view. Quinn spun around wildly while Silas howled with laughter in her ear.
“So…”he wheezed, trying to catch his breath, “you’ll need a weapon. You can craft a spear with the sticks and rocks you picked up.”
“What the fuck was that?!” Quinn shrieked, madly trying to claw her way up a tree. “Is that thing gonna come back?!”
“Maybe,” he said. “Probably. Listen, you need a weapon. Will you just—calm down?”
Quinn froze. The boar was there—big, bristly tusks jutting from its jaw. It grazed serenely in the grass, ignoring her. She shrieked and bolted away, tripped over a root and smacked her head against a branch. Swearing furiously, she staggered upright and kicked viciously at the root. The boar lifted its snout, sniffed the air, and locked eyes with her.
“What do I do!” she screamed as it charged wildly at her, its mean little eyes focused on her. She flailed at the nearest tree trunk in a blind panic.
The boar slammed into her, launching her into another tree. She immediately crumpled to the ground. It trampled over her limp body before lazily wandering off to graze again.
Quinn’s heart hammered in her chest. She was back in the void again, the single message floating in front of her.
“Calm down, ok?” Silas said with a chuckle. “We’ll wait a minute before loading back in.”
She took several deep, steadying breaths. “Hells…” she said shakily. “Will that thing always be there? How am I supposed to do anything?”
“It’s just part of the game,” he explained. “Every RPG has monsters. That’s what makes it challenging. Monsters don’t usually sit around twiddling their thumbs while you figure yourself out. You either prepare, or you die.”
“Okay, but you’re not telling me how!” Quinn snapped.
“That requires you to listen,” Silas said dryly. “The items you gather can be used to craft other things, like basic weapons or tools. Your menu has multiple tabs. One of them is for crafting. When we load back in, navigate to that section. Find the spear, craft it and equip it. Got it? Then we’ll deal with the boar.”
Quinn took another steadying breath. “Ok, got it,” she said. “Let’s go.”
The world materialized again, and Quinn immediately did as Silas said. She quickly moved to the shade of a tree, found the crafting menu and made a crude spear out of the sticks and rocks she’d gathered. It appeared in her hand—jagged, uneven, but solid. She gave it a few experimental swings, nearly whacking herself in the leg.
Silas sighed in her ear. “The point is to stab the monsters, not yourself.”
She spotted the boar again in the distance. This time, she chose her ground carefully, planting herself between a cluster of trees to use their trunks as shields. Letting out a sharp cry, baiting the beast closer. It snarled and came barreling towards her, spittle flying off the end of its tusks.
At the last possible moment, Quinn rolled free of the boar’s attack and thrust her spear into the soft flesh of its throat. The animal shuddered, staggered, and collapsed.
Quinn let out a guttural yell of triumph, lifting her spear high above her head with both hands and pumping it up and down like a lunatic cavewoman.
The rest of the afternoon blurred by in a haze of practice. The boar killed her several more times, which Silas found increasingly amusing. She skewered it just as often, eventually naming her trusty spear Bertha’s Bacon Stick—a title Silas refused to say out loud.
Killing monsters gave her experience and points she could spend to improve her stats. Silas explained that spreading points around everywhere without a build in mind would make her weak. She needed to pick a specialization and design her character around it. Quinn wanted to specialize in looting nobility, but Silas said that wasn’t a build.
He also walked her through the crafting menu, which included everything from slug armor to lean-to shelters made from weeds. Quinn was immediately hooked and wanted to spend all her time tinkering with building structures, but Silas wouldn’t let her. Learning to fight was the priority, because “no boar in history has ever been defeated by a well-placed window box.”
By the end, Quinn was sweaty, irritable, and sore in places she hadn’t known could ache, but she could at least stick a boar with the pointy end of Bertha’s Bacon Stick rather than herself.
When Silas finally decided to call it a day, she didn’t argue. “That was insane,” she groaned, tugging at the visor which instantly snagged her hair. “And exhausting. Please tell me the real thing won’t be this brutal.”
Silas gave her a flat look while she continued to wrestle with the headset. She yanked it free, losing a few strands of hair in the process.
Nothing made Quinn hungrier than skewering a herd of digital boars, so they sat down to a dinner of instant ramen, of which Silas had an endless supply. Sophie happily slurped her noodles and peppered Quinn with questions about Dominion. She found the murderous boar hilarious for some sadistic reason and demanded front-row seats for the next round.
As Dolores gathered the dishes, Quinn hesitantly cleared her throat. “Uh…Silas?” she asked. “Is it possible for us to crash on your couch for the week? Pretty sure if we go back, I’ll get arrested, and that feels…mildly inconvenient.”
“You can stay,” he said, wheeling over to set his bowl in the sink. “I thought that was implied?”
“Why, Master Vance!” Dolores exclaimed, clasping her hands in delight. “What a generous invitation! Might I suggest they use your parents’ old room? Those accommodations are far more suitable.”
Quinn froze, her chopsticks halfway to her mouth with dripping noodles. Silas’s back stiffened, and he slowly turned and gave Dolores a long, piercing stare. Sophie cautiously lowered her bowl, eyes darting between them. The silence was so heavy, it felt like the air had solidified.
“Ever tire of mopping up messes?” the fridge abruptly blared. “Look no further than our new multi-purpose wipe!”
“Why must this infernal thing always glitch?” Doloras said angrily, getting up from her chair and giving the fridge a metallic slap like it was a misbehaving child. “Honestly. We need an upgrade.”
She turned back around to look at Silas and planted her hands on her hips. “They will have your parent’s room, and I will hear no more about it. I am certain your mother would want Miss Wexley and her excellent sister to be comfortable.”
“Nobody knows what my mother would’ve wanted, Dolores,” he said flatly. “Least of all her.” He turned and left. They heard him go down the hall before a door slammed shut.
Dolores straightened her apron and faced Quinn, unruffled. “Master Vance has…interesting moods. Regardless, it is the most suitable accommodation, and I will prepare it immediately.” With that, she swept from the room, leaving Quinn and Sophie exchanging uneasy looks over their cooling ramen.
It didn’t take long before the bedroom was ready. Quinn had never been inside that room before as the door had always remained firmly shut. She was unsurprised to find it decorated like the rest of the house, with an army of throw pillows on top of a neatly smoothed floral comforter. Dust clung to every surface, as if time had pooled here more thickly than anywhere else in the house.
After tucking Sophie in with her threadbare bunny, Quinn drifted over to the dresser, her eyes catching on a row of framed photographs. She picked one up, wiping the glass with her sleeve. Silas’s parents smiled happily up at her, holding hands in front of what looked like a castle somewhere in Europe. Every picture on the dresser was of them.
It wasn’t until Quinn rolled into bed and shut her eyes that she realized what was bothering her about the photos. Silas was noticeably missing from them all.
