Jake twiddled his fingers before he asked, “Do you need a glass of water, Ellie? Or um, a sedative? Not that I have one, but, I mean, that’s kinda big news.”

  Time was a concept I was attached to, but I started to believe it might be different within the System. The realization of all that time passing seemed to hit her hard. She shook her head at Jake’s questions, waving them off.

  “I’m fine. Really. Do people look like you on Earth, these days? Were we invaded?” She fanned herself with her hand, then pressed it to her heart with a distressed expression.

  “No, no. Archive gave us the option to be whatever we wanted,” Jake said quickly, clawed hands up and flapping as if to brush away her concern.

  She squinted at us with disbelief. “And you wanted to look like that?”

  I looked at Jake. He looked at me. We looked back at her, and our heads bobbed in unison.

  “Young people,” she sighed.

  “Gotta run, but we’ll be back!” Jake said, glancing at me.

  She was way over a hundred years old, from the last time the comet came by. A real human willing to talk to us was probably rare. I had so many questions, and we only had twenty-six minutes to make eleven deliveries in six districts.

  With a wave, we blasted out the door. A few yards away, it hit me—I forgot to grab a candy bar. Dammit.

  We raced down streets cobbled from other worlds, from wooded parks with strange plant people, mud and paper hives from various types of bug people, to a meadow with a cluster of tarps and bundled grass. The city’s air reflected the environment. Despite the districts only taking up a block, the air would change from sweet and earthy to dank and metallic, then to horse crap on hay. Countries had their own streets, so I gathered that the same went for other civilizations. Convergent City was huge, and I drained my energy reserves enough to lose HP by the time we finished the quest.

  Jake tripped at the last drop, a bamboo stand on the corner of Higyashiama and Old Rome. His hooves scraped on cobble, wings flaring. I glanced over. Panic punched me as he lurched. He crashed hard, ass up, face skidding on stone.

  His wing clipped my ankle. I went airborne, crashing in a heap at the feet of the NPC vendor. I pushed up and glared back at him.

  “That’s what you get for running in those cosplay high heels,” I snarked.

  He rolled to his knees, looking at his cloven hooves, then sheepishly at me. “Sorry.”

  I shrugged and grinned, rubbing a bloody scrape on my elbow. My HUD flashed 10 seconds left; I lunged toward the drop box, tossing my last order. Jake scramble-crawled over to do the same.

  Jake’s HP dropped like mine but didn’t recover at the same rate mine did. I had photosynthetic regeneration. I checked my hand, wounded from Alga’s daily task; already scabbed. On its way to healed.

  I brushed myself off. This task had been useful. I’d learned my way around because of the paper route. Memorizing the minimap would take some time, but the landmarks were unique.

  Some places, like the crystal buildings, were unforgettable. A set of floating rocks hovered above a barren crater, framed by a dusty midwestern town straight out of the 1800s and a street of gothic buildings steeped in eternal twilight. Places hard to forget.

  After dropping off the last of the papers, the timer disappeared. The green marker in the New York district disappeared. My inventory flashed and showed ten gems glittering in the first slot.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Payday. Time to get some armor,” I clapped my hands together. “or real clothes. Maybe weapons? I don’t know how this game works.”

  “Let’s do what you said—get a beer and check our aspect screens,” Jake suggested.

  A flickering gas lamp lit the cobblestone tavern, hazy in shadows from the strange shroud clinging to the district. Twilight on my minimap. The tavern’s name was Candlewick. I squinted at it, not seeing any task markers in the red, but nothing green, either.

  “I don’t think this place is friendly to orcs,” I muttered, racing through aspect screens to get the information I wanted.

  It looked like a tiny village designed by goths obsessed with demons, vampires, witches, and werewolves. Which, sure, they need a place to vibe too, but damn. Goths hate orcs? Jake skipped towards the Candlewick Tavern, and I followed, head on a swivel.

  The demon bounced gleefully, wings bobbing and tail swishing. His goofball mood was infectious, and it eased some of my anxiety. I still intended to push him in front of anyone with an issue. I saw what could happen at Bauring Dath.

  We went through the elaborate glass and iron door. I followed him through a press of bodies to the bar. Jake ordered from the bartender.

  The interior of Candlewick had a modern club energy. Electronic music pulsed, and with it, a sea of face piercings. People danced, clustered at the bar or at standing tables, comparing tattoos. I saw no one wolfing out, so maybe that was exclusively a combat thing.

  A few notable figures stuck out. A spectacularly terrifying demon with no lips and six eyes lurked by the bar. It was smaller than Jake. Pale-skinned, the monster’s flesh was almost translucent enough to see its guts through its belly. It gave off a sense of bad juju.

  I tore my attention away from it before I met its many-eyed gaze. Color caught my eye. A bubble goth girl danced with glow sticks on luminescent strings, twirling them at intervals. They had glow sticks here?

  Jake wiggled in beside a couple of witches, who glanced at us, and then resumed their conversation. He ordered while I kept a lookout for a spot away from the gyrating crowd. If I had a scene, this wouldn’t be it.

  A tall frosted glass mug materialized before me, and I took it, pointing, “Upstairs, the lounge? There are fewer people.”

  Jake carved a path through the crowd, and I followed close behind, trying not to accidentally shoulder-check anyone and trigger a brawl. The staircase toed the line between classy and over-the-top—extra broad and draped with velvet. Noise dulled. Patrons lounged along the banisters, sipping drinks, their conversations low, unreadable.

  Vampires, mostly. Everyone’s nameplates were blue, so I felt somewhat comfortable. I had yet to test my body for anything besides endurance. Threat mattered.

  Jake perched on a stool against the wall, wings and tail dangling behind him. My elbow crashed into the edge of the table. I hissed, rubbing it. “How much did these cost?”

  “Two shards each. The gems we got are quartz. I guess you could say each beer equates to two bucks. We can think of it like, quartz is the local dollar.”

  “That’s almost decent pay for the work,” I commented, sipping my drink. My energy bar pushed orange. The alcohol didn’t do much for it.

  “Starter quest,” Jake explained, his red eyes shifting to watch Candlewick's customers come and go along the stairs. “The value should decrease as we get better at navigating the city, if that’s even repeatable.”

  Despite this being his district, he looked about as comfortable as I was. Being new either made folks overly friendly, or paranoid. Jake landed on my end of the spectrum.

  “What’s your theory?” I asked, popping up my aspect screen and scrolling through the district descriptions, running a finger along the text about earning money.

  Jake’s gaze flicked from the stairs to something unseen. Probably the same menu I was scrolling. His hand came up to direct it, fingers flicking the air. Not much useful info, yet. No training guides, just a sense that there could be more here.

  As for professions, I had Laborer. Thanks to my previous employment, I could lift things and put them down again. That was my best skill to date. Jake finally answered my question after finishing his reading.

  “I died and went to gamer heaven,” he joked, then sobered.

  “Ha,” I pointed at him, “That’s what I said when Archive showed up.”

  I’d thought it, but still. The sentiment was there. Maybe teaming up with him really was a good idea.

  Twisting his drink on the table, he stared at it, his mood shifting like a storm front rolling in. “My theory is the comet, I guess. A hundred years ago, there were mass disappearances, according to the news. And a hundred years before that, I guess there were news clippings of people randomly gone missing, as well.”

  “By the looks of this city, it’s global—maybe not just global. Some of these districts are really…” I trailed off, not wanting to say it. We had the same basic ideas. I couldn’t tell if that was validating or terrifying.

  “Alien,” Jake supplied.

  I dragged my finger through the condensation left by my glass. It felt wet. Real.

  “Archive said this is a simulation.” I glanced up to see his reaction, and he stared at his mug, his expression telling me he’d already made peace with that.

  “What should we do?” Jake sighed, lifting his mug to his lips.

  “We play along until we figure out how it works,” I said, then smirked viciously. “And then we break it.”

  -ARCHIVE-