Darkness.

  He felt the usual jolt at the base of his neck.

  The flute-like voice murmured:

  ? Entering system

  Then the sound crackled into a glitchy noise:

  ? Player logged in

  A flash.

  The forest clearing he remembered, surrounded by large beech trees that filtered thin rays of light, reflected in the small pool where the horses were drinking, slowly took shape, with a subtle crackling in the background, like electric rain. Nico didn't remember this ever happening before. Some shadows were exactly where he remembered them; others seemed out of place, and in the sky, the clouds moved at different speeds, but it was only for a moment, then everything resumed its rhythm and the shadows returned to their places.

  He saw Nadia stroking her white horse and Gareth tightening the girth of his black stallion.

  He smiled, noticing with relief that he remembered those faces and details: they had not yet escaped his memory.

  Gareth was saying, “Why do you keep talking about their world? Aren't you happy here?” His voice was hesitant. Nadia shook her head, and her long blonde hair sparkled in the early morning light.

  “Here, we are what we are... I want more.”

  Gareth shook his head and moved to adjust the saddle on Nico's gray horse, grumbling at the princess's response, a response that Nico couldn't fully understand.

  He was about to murmur a greeting, almost afraid to break the calm, when a familiar voice teased him from behind.

  “Hey, forgetful one, are you okay? You remember me, right? My name is Leo.”

  Nico turned around; his friend was standing next to him, hands on hips, looking at him as if trying to ascertain whether or not he understood what he was saying. He paused and enunciated, syllable by syllable: "L-e-o. Do you remember? We met in the woods.

  Kiah, do you remember her? The one who was obsessed with books. We trained with Taynor for hours, then we ran away from those Nerakth beasts. Eh? Do you remember them...?“ He paused and spelled out: ”Ne-ra-kth. Black, big, and hideous." Nico nodded hesitantly, and Leo continued, encouraged by that sign of assent: “That's right, now those things are not part of the game, and now the computer virus, which apparently is trying to take over the game and the whole world, has decided to infect you, and so your side itches like crazy because you're infected with a computer virus...” Leo put his hands to his head, agitated by what he was saying. Nico's eyes were wide, not knowing whether to laugh or not, whether his friend was joking or telling the truth.

  “Holy salami,” Leo continued to himself as he ran his hands through his dirty blond hair, ruffling it, “I can't believe it: just thinking about it makes my toes curl with horror...”

  Nico's eyes were wide as he listened to Leo, accompanied by a strange, hesitant smile. Some fragments were like shadows, but the rest seemed so absurd. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a subtle anxiety: the fear that Leo wasn't joking. He didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdities he was hearing or to think that it was all true.

  Gareth turned, his face frowning. “How long have you been there?” he asked. Nico saw a flash in Nadia's eyes, as if she were hiding something, but it passed quickly.

  Nico felt a grip on his shoulder and jumped. He turned around; Kiah greeted everyone with a quick nod and said, all in one breath, “Hey, Nico, how's it going? I've been anxious all day. How are you feeling? How did it go? Outside the game, I mean. Everything okay? Did you remember everything? You didn't forget your name, did you?”

  Nico's eyes widened as his stomach contracted; nausea rose in his throat, which tightened just as Nadia intervened.

  “Calm down, everyone,” she said, approaching him. “You mustn't overload him with information, he's in a very fragile state.”

  Nico looked at her, even more worried. “What's going on?”

  Nadia shook her head, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It wouldn't do any good to talk about it, Nico. You'd end up forgetting, even though deep down you feel that something isn't right.”

  “Nico?” he repeated, confused. “How long have you known my name?”

  Leo whistled loudly, as if to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. “We're in trouble...”

  “Don't you even remember that we introduced ourselves by our real names?” added Kiah in an almost tearful tone.

  Nico looked at them both, one after the other, unable to put his thoughts in order. A new spasm contracted his stomach, and he felt bile rising in his throat.

  Kiah put a hand on his shoulder and Nadia invited him to sit down.

  “I won't go on too long, so as not to tire you. Just take everything I say at face value, okay?”

  Nico nodded slowly, and she continued:

  “You see, Nico, Gareth and I are part of a game. You know that, right? You know you're in a game right now.”

  Nico nodded. Nadia continued:

  “We are sentient programs. What you would call, in short, antivirus software.”

  Nico frowned, looking at Leo and Kiah. Neither of them seemed surprised. “Did you already know?” he asked, glancing from one to the other. Leo nodded and shrugged, while Kiah stared at him sympathetically.

  “Do you remember the Nerakth, Nico?” Nadia insisted, as if he hadn't said anything.

  He nodded again, even though the constant repetition of his name was beginning to irritate him. What did she think? That he could forget that too? He sighed, bringing a hand to his face, shuddering at the thought that perhaps Nadia really feared him.

  “Nico, do you remember the Nerakth?” the princess repeated. At that point, he realized that everyone around him was waiting for his answer.

  He nodded a third time.

  “Good,” said Nadia, and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that spread to the whole group.

  “I remember being hit... the wound was strange, the veins were black...” murmured Nico. “It itched like crazy.”

  The memory of the dream came flooding back: the oily liquid dripping from the gash he had carved into himself, scraping away pieces of skin as dry as paper. He shuddered. “I remember you talking about corruption and... I don't know if it's related, but I remember the word Erebos.”

  Nadia smiled, but it was a grim, resigned smile. “Exactly. Erebos is a computer virus. It has contaminated these lands and has also filtered into your world.”

  Nico's instinct was not to believe her, but Leo and Kiah's serious expressions, so focused on every word, stopped him. A lump formed in his throat.

  “You have been struck by Nerakth, offspring of Nothingness. Of Erebos.”

  Leo intervened, direct as ever: “In short, Erebos has struck you. Now you are corrupted and he is erasing your memory. Perhaps he is overwriting it. So, if we don't act, it will be too late.”

  Nico's eyes widened. “So... can we fix this?” he asked, clinging to a thread of hope.

  “Of course,” Leo replied with a burst of conviction. “What did you think, that we'd let you rot with Erebos burrowing inside you like a worm in an apple? What kind of friends would we be?”

  Nico laughed, despite everything.

  “Nadia says that half a day's journey from here is the city of Narbras,” Kiah explained with a smile. “They train surgeons and healers there. Whatever you have, they'll know how to help you.”

  The horses had been walking for hours. They were headed for Narbras: there, with a little luck, they would find someone who could heal him.

  Nico found it hard to believe Nadia's revelations. It was absurd... yet, if it was all true, Erebos could really spread into the real world. The idea that a virus could escape from virtual reality and infiltrate the global network chilled him. What kind of disasters could it cause?

  Blackouts, system crashes, chaos in transportation, communications... perhaps even worse. He wondered if something had already happened, and if, once he was cured, he would remember seeing or hearing similar signs.

  Furthermore, if Nadia and Gareth were antivirus programs, then that meant that even the game's producers had been unable to install one capable of containing it. Another, even more disturbing question crossed his mind like a knife: if the producer was aware of these risks, why had they released the game in beta anyway? Why send it to him and the others?

  A thought froze him: what if the producers themselves had created the virus? What if the headsets were the vehicle chosen to spread it?

  His side began to itch. He shook his head, trying to dispel these paranoid hypotheses. Nadia had told him not to tire himself with overly complex thoughts: his mind had to remain light, to prevent the virus in his system from ‘sensing’ his effort and accelerating the process.

  One last thought escaped him, despite the princess's recommendations: as soon as he left, he would check the box the viewer came in.

  He had to find out who had sent him the game. Perhaps there he would find the first answers.

  “Hey!? Are you listening to me?” exclaimed Leo.

  “Yes, sorry... I was lost in thought.”

  “What the heck, Nico! I'm talking to you and you're not even listening,” Leo grumbled, then trotted his horse away from him, his face sulky.

  Further ahead, Nadia and Kiah were talking. Gareth was nowhere to be seen. Only small piles of stones and pieces of string tied to tree trunks indicated his presence further ahead.

  It was a system that Nico wanted to memorize, but not now, not when he didn't have to strain his memory. He struggled to notice those signs: he often only saw them after he had passed them. He noticed this because Nadia, on the other hand, followed them without hesitation.

  Nico trotted to catch up with Leo. “Sorry, I was thinking about what Nadia said...”

  “That's what I'm saying too,” Leo blurted out. “I don't believe in the story of the virus, Erecoso or whatever it's called, that's going around the world destroying and infecting. It seems like nonsense to keep us here playing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They want to keep us here to kill us. Think about it! If the Void can strike anyone, insinuate itself into every NPC we know, what's to stop it from getting into Nadia or Gareth too? What if they're leading us to our deaths? What if she was the one who put the virus in you?”

  “You're being too paranoid.”

  “Paranoid? What do you mean, paranoid? Doesn't it all seem too suspicious? Who let the Nerakth into the palace? The King and

  Princess, who opened the doors to everyone without checking anyone. And who let us board the ship with Samuel? Gareth.”

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  “I think they're just coincidences,” said Nico.

  “Coincidences? Come on. They want us dead. Soon we'll be forced to disconnect, and they'll kill us.”

  “How, if we're not connected?”

  “They'll wait quietly for us to reconnect and then kill us.”

  Nico laughed heartily. “If they wanted to do that, they could have done it in the clearing, couldn't they?”

  “Yeah, yeah, laugh...” muttered Leo. “You won't be laughing when you're dead.”

  “We can't die,” replied Nico with a smile.

  Leo's eyes widened. “Ah, right... you don't know that. Pretend I didn't say anything.” He gave him a crooked smile, then pointed to a double knot on a tree trunk. “That means a meeting point, right?” Then he trotted ahead to catch up with Kiah.

  Nico followed him, suspicious of his behavior, but took a deep breath. He mustn't strain his mind. He mustn't think.

  “Not me,” Nadia was saying. “I only remember what has been written inside me. But you... you are full of details, of real memories.

  Smells, sounds, words that don't exist here. They are just codes.”

  Kiah smiled, uncertain. “It's a poetic way of saying we're different.”

  Nadia smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes. “A way of saying you're not from here.”

  Kiah laughed. “Well, of course. We need to eat, drink, move...”

  “I understand,” Nadia murmured, looking up at a pair of sparrows building a nest with twigs in their beaks.

  She nodded, then continued, “I imagine it must be nice to really taste things, to feel the touch of a caress on your skin...”

  “Yes, of course! The earthy taste of boiled broccoli, sticky sweat, the unpleasant smell of the fat guy sitting next to you on the subway.

  Wonderful,” Leo interjected ironically, joining the conversation.

  Gareth emerged from a side street. He was silent. His eyes followed the princess as if they were tied by an invisible thread. “Here we are,” he whispered.

  Nico noticed that the road, which had been dotted with trees at first, had become more regular. The late afternoon sun was giving way to evening, leaving the sky tinged with a pale pink. On the horizon, he saw a huge black tower, like a ship's funnel, a warning finger pointing upwards. As they advanced along the dirt road, Nico noticed that the road was dotted with people: a man lying on a cart pulled by an old, panting donkey. Next to him walked a woman holding a little girl by the hand, here an old man with a crooked leg, there a couple with a baby in their arms, and there were also pregnant women.

  Gareth, who until then had not said a word, silently leading the group, pulled up alongside them.

  “Needless to say, we don't know who or what awaits us here,” he said quietly, glancing at everyone but lingering especially on Leo. “I hope you don't get yourselves into trouble and that you don't draw attention to yourselves.”

  With that, he pulled up his hood and tapped his reins, moving back to the front of the group.

  Leo's eyes were wide, his expression somewhere between amazement and pretending not to really understand what Gareth meant.

  They were at the gates of Narbras. Hundreds of people were camped everywhere, forming a kind of tent city. Nico saw a family: a woman was preparing dinner in a large pot resting on a makeshift brazier while three children ran around and a fourth clung to her skirt.

  Nico looked at him more closely: he had milky pupils; he was blind. There were makeshift stretchers, people fighting over a piece of bread, a man tending to a young, somewhat emaciated cow.

  Nico looked around, thinking about the game's programmers, wondering why they had conceived such a world, full of disease and suffering. Why weren't surgeons and healers treating these people? His side began to itch, and as he scratched it, Kiah approached him.

  “Have you forgotten already?” she whispered, removing her hand from his hip as Nico scratched it. “Try not to strain your mind. Keep it clear. Don't think about anything too complex, okay?”

  Nico nodded, remembering that Nadia had already told him this. But why? He wondered. He shook his head: he mustn't think.

  They passed through the gates. The city was still in turmoil. The setting sun bathed the buildings, huddled together along winding streets, in dark red and orange light. Everywhere he looked, he saw brightly colored plants hanging from balconies, windows, and small flat terraces on the roofs. He recognized the smells of basil, mint, and other pungent or balsamic aromas he didn't know. Many shops displayed bunches of dried herbs or bowls of intertwined roots.

  As they made their way through the crowd, Nico saw a boy carrying a ladder and an old man following him. The boy leaned the ladder against a lamppost; the old man muttered something to him. Irritated, the boy made room for him. The old man climbed up with angular movements, like a mantis, and turned on the lamppost while the boy stared at him in annoyance.

  The shops, lit by street lamps, displayed simple signs: scissors, fabrics, cuts of meat, hammers. Nico imagined that they were designed this way so that even those who could not read could recognize them.

  The black tower stood in the center of the city like a shadow impossible to ignore. They arrived at a huge square, with the tower in the center like an imposing and distressing monolith. As they approached, Nico noticed that it looked like a single carved block, smooth as obsidian, with no windows.

  In front of the entrance, an endless line snaked across the square: people coughing, others limping with a makeshift splint on their leg, some shivering wrapped in worn blankets, children in the arms of exhausted parents. A low, almost respectful buzz hung over the square.

  At one point, Nico heard a man's voice, nasal and shrill, getting closer as the man made his way through the crowd.

  “Go away, go away! Only the sick in line! Children, the blind, or those who have lost a limb! The rest, if they can stand, wait on their own!”

  Nico dismounted, gave the reins to Gareth, and stood in line behind a man with strange sores on his face, huge bumps. He coughed incessantly, a cough full of phlegm that made Nico feel nauseous. Nico saw the man spit out a large lump of greenish mucus not far from him and almost vomited, but he held back.

  Nico turned to his companions, who were standing nearby. Leo nodded at him.

  “Sorry, buddy, but you'll have to go on this adventure alone. We're still feeling pretty good... we'd rather avoid nasty infections like that.”

  He pointed to the man in front of Nico, who turned and gave him a grim look before coughing again and spitting out another disgusting lump.

  Nico's stomach churned; nausea rose in his throat and he pulled the collar of his jacket up over his nose, waving goodbye to his friends.

  “I hope to be quick...” he murmured, his voice muffled by the fabric.

  Kiah responded with an affectionate and concerned nod.

  Gareth dismounted, handed the reins to Nadia, and approached the screaming man. He showed him something shiny in his palm and muttered a few words. But the man started screaming again:

  "No bribes! I'm not interested! I can see the boy is fine: healthy, strong... why is he here? I don't care if you say he's crazy, you're the crazy one. No more visits today, the Tower is closing, only emergencies."

  Gareth looked around, tense. Indeed, someone had turned around, intrigued by the shouting, before returning to their business.

  Gareth tried to offer the man something else shiny, but the man waved his arms.

  “No! I'm not interested! He's not crazy, he just forgets things. Go on, take him away.”

  Gareth reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather bag, handing it to the man.

  "Good, very good. The boy can stay. They'll examine him. We'll take care of it. The healers and surgeons will fix him up.“ He snatched the coins and bag from Gareth's hand and added, in his usual nasal, ringing tone, ”Go, go! I'll take care of the boy." With that, he slipped the bag of coins into the pocket of his belted white robe and walked away toward the front of the line.

  “We'll go find an inn,” said Gareth, approaching Nico with a sigh. “One of us will come back here to wait for you when you come out. If you don't see us coming, stay here. Don't move. Someone will come for you.”

  Nico watched his friends walk away as the line moved forward at a reasonable pace and the sunset faded into evening. Around the tower, the streetlights were already shining brightly, and many had begun to set up tents and shelters for the night.

  Nico just hoped that the tower wouldn't close its doors before they got a chance to visit it.

  When it was finally his turn, Nico walked through the tower's enormous double doors, which appeared to be the only opening in the entire obsidian column. He found himself in a huge hall lit by oil lamps. In the center stood a huge wooden counter that appeared to be empty, and on either side of the enormous counter, two flights of black stone stairs led to the upper floors. The room was bright but gloomy at the same time, and strangely devoid of any furniture or curtains.

  When he approached hesitantly, he saw a middle-aged man behind the counter busy writing in a huge register. He had sharp features and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on a hooked nose that seemed to point straight at the page where he was making marks with an ink-dipped pen.

  Nico rested his hands on the wide wooden counter, waiting for the man to speak to him, but he continued to write on a table behind the counter, cluttered with papers and books.

  After a while, Nico decided to clear his throat. No reaction. He cleared his throat louder, and then the man looked up: Nico saw his strangely yellow eyes staring at him.

  “Um... excuse me, I need to be examined on my side.”

  The man casually went back to writing in his huge register as if Nico hadn't spoken. Nico cleared his throat again, trying to get his attention, and a bell rang from above. With a listless gesture, the man raised his left hand and pointed to the staircase, saying without looking up from his book:

  “Third door on the left.”

  Nico moved away from the counter and looked toward the black staircase lit by lamps hanging on the walls. Before setting off, he glanced toward the tower entrance: another patient was entering, limping conspicuously, supported by another man whom he clung to tightly.

  He climbed the stairs, hearing the thud of his footsteps, one after the other, on the black stone pavement. Fortunately, his mind had not yet given way, even though the thoughts crowding inside him made his side itch. For fear of forgetting what to say, he quickened his pace. He found himself in front of a huge windowless corridor, lit only by lamps. It was all black, as if the structure were made of one piece, without even the joints between the stones visible.

  There were several closed doors, and he looked for the one the man had pointed out to him. He found it on the left side, ajar; he knocked and asked permission to enter. A shrill voice replied, “Please, come in.” Nico opened the door.

  The room inside was different from what he had expected: large, bright, and with windows overlooking a surprising view. From there, he could see the crowd dotted around the Black Tower, waiting to be visited; beyond the square, a tangle of streets and houses leaning against each other; and further away, the barren plain beyond the walls, illuminated by the rising moon.

  Nico looked around, searching for someone to talk to, and for a moment he thought there was no one there. Then, from a corner of the room, a short man, just over a meter tall, jumped down from a chair. He wore thick-rimmed glasses that distorted his round eyes and had a long white beard, soft as wool.

  The gnome said in a high-pitched voice, “Please, please, take a seat,” pointing to a low cot covered with a bright white sheet.

  Nico struggled forward, his legs weak, and sat down. Even so, the gnome was still a whole head shorter than him. He had very long fingers and a stocky build under his long white robe, which blended in with his beard and long hair that grew only at the nape of his neck, falling over his shoulders, while he had an incipient bald patch at the front.

  “So, young man,” said the gnome, “why are you here? You seem strong enough to come up here for a visit. Are you one of those people who think they have a thousand diseases? We don't treat hypochondriacs: for them, there are remedies from the pharmacists that calm the nerves.”

  Nico shook his head, agitated. Too many ideas, too many fears were swirling around in his mind; his stomach had tightened and his throat was so constricted that he could hardly breathe. He sniffed, took a deep breath, then lifted his jacket to reveal his side.

  When the wound was exposed, Nico saw the white scar from which thin, snaking black veins branched out. He had already noticed them running up his side, almost touching his armpit, and branching out to the sides; he imagined they had also spread across his back.

  The little gnome almost jumped, staring at Nico's side, then squeaked, “Oh Mother Nature... or for all the healers and surgeons of the

  Black Tower, but this is...” He spoke as he felt the wound, pulling, pressing, and pinching Nico, who endured it with patient resignation.

  The little man finally looked up: his enormous eyes, distorted by thick lenses, rested on Nico. “How did this happen, lad?”

  Nico searched for a simple explanation, but it was useless to elaborate, so he simply said, “A Nerakth.”

  The gnome nodded to himself. “Liquid or blade?”

  “Blade.”

  “Ah, at least that. Well, well, kid... so we can't do much, but... wait a minute.” And he walked away toward the door.

  Nico's heart sank into the blackest abyss at those words spoken so lightly. We can't do much. If healers and surgeons couldn't cure that corruption, then there was no salvation for him.

  He felt the weight of that thought tighten his chest. For a moment, he wondered if the corruption was only related to the game... maybe he just needed to stop connecting. He thought this as his side itched and his heart broke at the thought of returning to his gray everyday life.

  The little gnome with the long hands had disappeared and the door to the room was left ajar. Nico heard his shrill voice at the end of the corridor giving orders.

  He got up from the bed and looked out. He saw three figures, big, burly men in white tunics and black sashes around their waists, accompanying the gnome as he advanced towards him. He heard him say, “I think it's worse than we thought. This is another one of the corrupt ones. He needs to be put in isolation. We'll have to call an emergency meeting, first we'll study what to do and then we'll see if we can extract him with surgery or if it's too late. In any case, lock him up: he's dangerous.”

  Nico shuddered at the thought of being locked up in that tower and who knows what their intentions were. He thought that perhaps he had been foolish to put himself in that situation.

  His body acted before his brain could come up with another idea: he bolted out of the room and threw himself down the stairs.

  The gnome's voice squeaked behind him, “Get him!”

  Nico had become quite agile at running away. He dodged a limping man, the same one he had seen coming up behind him when he was climbing the stairs, narrowly avoiding knocking him to the ground. His companion, the one holding the limping man, was less fortunate. He rolled down the stairs and ended up with Nico in the large entrance hall of the tower. Nico wanted to help him up, but the three men were already on the stairs not far from him.

  The entrance hall was clear; Nico rushed out, clumsily bumping into an elderly woman who cursed at him. He turned briefly to apologize, but continued running across the huge square around the tower, throwing himself past the buzz of the crowd into the maze of narrow streets and houses perched on top of each other, trying to escape his three pursuers.

  Behind him, in the distance, he could still hear the gnome squeaking from the tower square.

  He turned a corner, his lungs already burning in his chest, hoping to see his friends in that maze of streets, when a powerful hand grabbed his arm and a loud voice said:

  “Gotcha, kid. Come on, let's go back to the Black Tower.”

  [AUTHOR'S NOTE]

  Log updated: Erebos is a threat that must be eradicated, but do you think these healers are dangerous?

  Log closed: The system is waiting for feedback and observing.