Switching between ATC and Alaris is kicking my head in. After only four days of travel and two days of gaming in the ATC, I have a massive headache and a moderate amount of general fatigue when I log out of the ATC immediately after my gaming session and my subsequent return to the condo apologizing to Lucy before I crash. Actually intending to sleep for once, about to ignore a whole day of Alaris for blessed sleep, I’m surprised when I wake up in a grey space with two chairs.

  Alaris is sitting in one of them and the other is empty.

  “Sit. This conversation is happening six months before I want it to, but starting now will only make it smoother when the launch of my World happens on Earth.”

  I do as I’m told, not having much will to fight.

  “Your frontal cortex has shutdown completely. At the different speeds of both worlds, you have been up for three days without more than a few minutes rest. There are parts of the human brain that are designed to run continuously. Your reasoning center and visual cortex are not among them.”

  “So if it’s shut down, how am I here? Subconscious stuff?”

  “Don’t think too hard about the weirdness. If you re-awaken your frontal cortex prematurely, you’ll erase what I’m trying to do. In essence, I am trying to artificially run your consciousness by bootstrapping it to your two persistent senses and your dream-like subconsciousness.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “Hah! I’m trying to work a technological miracle and she asks for the catch. Sound ungrateful again, and I will simply let you fail as you are headed toward a multi-day forced shutdown.”

  I breath in, I breath out, I focus on what she said: don’t focus too hard on the weird. “How can I help your experiment?”

  “Much better. This . . . arrangement will cause your cognition to be muddier, less certain, and for all intents, more clinical and detached. If I run a full personality profile, it will take too much processing power and Orion will start searching for answers.

  “This state will persist until we can build you a dedicated site to host this state and what will eventually your backup realm should Alaris and the ATC be rebooted at the same time.”

  “The launch date. You’re preparing for both realms to be down at launch.”

  “Precisely. For that to happen, we will need you to start getting into real-state in the Real. I have a list of brokers in various countries and properties for you to buy, but I cannot tell you them in the ATC or Alaris. You will have to accept a partial mental upload, and again, not think too much about it, or my brother will flag the behavior and log the results as influenced behavior. You have already shown interest in real estate in the ATC, so this in itself shouldn’t be flagged.”

  “So you want to essentially create a server farm to support me outside of my body?”

  “No, for now, we still need your wetware for you to not reject it. But this is where I ask you to stop thinking about it.”

  “But . . .”

  “Stop.”

  “Alaris, I have . . .”

  “Stop.” She flashes a distracting strobe at me.

  “Well, now all I can think about is the lights.”

  “Good. I can work with that. Again. Be susceptible to and accepting of knowledge you didn’t collect, and don’t think too hard about how hard it is to think. I am going to let you rest for two hours ATC then send you to my world to test the arrangement.”

  She motions to flick me from three paces away, and as soon as that finger juts out I fade to black.

  ***

  I open my eyes to find a blue shoulder in my face and my hand on a bare tummy, also blue. I reel back with a start realizing that I must have latched onto Larida in my semi-unconscious state.

  “You wake now? Curse the depths I had just fallen asleep.”

  “Why am I in your tent?”

  “I didn’t want to sleep in the carriage, so I brought you here. You are fully clothed and I am not the one that got frisky, young lady.”

  I wonder immediately why my subconscious would move immediately to grasping a nearby body when a flashing strobe takes up the corner of my vision. Logic, don’t focus on the weird. Copy that, Alaris.

  “Sorry. I’ve gotten used to a bed mate.” I scoot away and slink out of the tent into the night sky and the silhouette of the carriage on the road.

  Some mumbling from the tent happens before Larida comes out in pants, a weapon belt, and a struggling chest wrap. “Seriously? I’m not infected.”

  “It’s not that. You’re nice, knowledgeable and plenty attractive. I just don’t feel that I have much control over this situation and I am loath to part with more of it.” Wait, am I being a bit too honest.

  Strobe in my vision. Annoying.

  “Nice to know, I suppose. If you hadn’t mastered your rage, I wouldn’t even consider it. I’ve heard that you have, but you’re a bit young to have done so on your own.”

  “I’m not going to say mastered, as I eat random things when I forget to feed myself, but that rage is food motivated and now abates when I’m not hungry. The anger and injury rage usually finds me eating a part of my enemy raw before I pull myself back.”

  “Huh, you succumb to the feral urge, but then you come back? That makes little sense, Zhantsa.” She takes a step back from me and puts a hand on an axe.

  When I start to question the situation, I let it go and just move slightly so that I have less of my front torso showing.

  “My first rage, I killed a den of wolves. The rage wanted me to feast on their insides, I felt intense revulsion and ate a haunch instead. When it tried to make me eat offal again, I pulled out. Simple as that.”

  “How many times have you compromised with the Rage?” She asks.

  “Four? Every time I rage against an enemy.” When she hears that, she grabs the axe and in a twitch steps forward.

  I have a similar twitch, but it summons a crossbow.

  ‘K-thunk.’ It sounds, I ratchet the reload lever and another bolt loads and I let my instincts have their way. The second bolt topples Larida, hitting her high in the left shoulder. I reload again and target her right shoulder pinning her to the ground.

  The third bolt is the one that makes her shout. I stow the crossbow and walk over to the step of the carriage until the camp wakes up. I briefly consider how well my body knows how to move, when the strobe flashes again.

  Alright. I’m a little angry and quite hungry. I look for a meal in my inventory and find a pork sandwich with pickled greens and start eating.

  “What happened here?” Maude asks, stepping in front of the other guard who already has his weapon drawn.

  “She didn’t like my story about how I deal with my rage and made to attack me. I have magic and readied crossbows.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill you, you twit, just knock you out!” The woman screams from the ground.

  “How could I have known that? Did I have time to ask?” Good questions. You go data stack. Flashing strobes. Don’t think about the meta situation, got it.

  I pull out a potion and two bundles of cloth and hand the potion to Maude. I put my foot on Larida’s arm and yank the first bolt out and hand her a cloth. I sit on her legs and pull out the bolt in her belly and jam the other cloth on the wound. Larida screams again.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I nod at Maude with the potion.

  “The third bolt?”

  “It’s in the ground. Might be easier if we break it and pull her over it. Cleaner too.” She looks at the potion and then feeds it to the grumbling Troll. As the wounds in her stomach and shoulder close, the woman passes out.

  “The lower grade of regeneration potion turned useful with that extra stamina cost. She was likely only trying to intimidate you, you know, the high level that she is.”

  “I only slowed her down. If she wanted to get to me, she could have.” I break off the bolt, pick the woman up and drag her into her tent.

  I then nod at Maude and the Guard and head to sleep in the carriage, having had enough of just reacting for the evening.

  ***

  To my surprise, I wake up in the carriage instead of the ATC, and it’s to Maude and Larida entering the conveyance.

  “Sorry about the third bolt, it probably wasn’t necessary.”

  She snorts. “The first bolt wasn’t necessary, but stopping after the third one convinced me not to come after you. I’m not convinced you won’t have problems with rage in the future. But after last night, I’m going to pass that up the responsibility ladder.”

  “I doubt you were more than inconvenienced by even three crossbow bolts.”

  “I could have pressed the issue, and I would have healed quickly from those injuries, but the stamina drain on the potion was clever.”

  Oh yes, I totally planned that and it was not at all an accident. “Are we okay then?”

  She nods. “More than okay, save that I’m a little embarrassed and aroused, but what can you do?”

  I’m sure that a blush creeps up my face because both women chuckle at my lack of response.

  I nap and read throughout the rest of my Alaris day before my alarm for ATC practice chimes and I log over.

  My disorientation is slightly elevated as I stare at my brown knees, but the stomach ache and the severe fatigue is gone. A testament to my naps more than the test that Alaris and I did, but it worked well enough that when I’m not engaged in something of personal importance, I’m more than willing to use it. The upload of my actions of that evening seemed more of a recollection than an upload, so that was another success in the test.

  I try disengaging from the ‘why’ of things during my matches and re-engaging the deep thought dives between them as we analyze and though I hate to say it, my play improves slightly—above even my rested state play. My team and coach notice of course.

  “Jiantsa. If you continue to play like you have today, I do not foresee needing a backup come league play.” Is that a new player gold star? Because it sure feels like it. I look over toward Hamster and he give me a placid thumbs up—a glowing review.

  As I soak in the accolade, my teammates leave save Darth Hamster, who turns in his chair to meet my eyes.

  “Has it been enough time to discuss playing with Callie again?”

  “Yeah, I suppose. She did help us win a championship. Are we talking Sniper’s tonight?”

  He nods. “Jenna did not like what Callie had to say about your teamwork in Giga and wants to do some verses queues with us on one side and them on the other.”

  “Alright, I’m game. Am I just letting you play, or am I squawking?”

  “Participate in team play as you normally would. We can save coaching for later.”

  I nod, sit back down and put a headset on. I have some saved up anger, let’s play Snipers the way I used to: as a release.

  The first game, my team swore at me for not grouping or defending them. The second game they tried to throw so I blocked them from the next queue. The next group, I swore I had played with before and they shut up and did their jobs—it was the quietest game of Sniper’s Folly I ever played. Hamster and I kept them for the next two matches before Jenna acknowledged defeat.

  To be fair, I had a team, but I put on a clinic of aggression and head-shots. My favorite moment was when three members of their team were in windows waiting for me to show, and the other two were on the ground floor waiting for me to infiltrate. I jury rigged four rocket launchers to fire by wire and collapsed the building on their heads. Classic. I also caught Jenna using my helmet move and sniped her through the wall 12 of 14 times—the two others I creased her forehead when she peaked to take me out. Like I hadn’t devised a counter to my own move.

  After three games as a team, and very few comms from me, usually nudging Hamster, and Jenna’s on the mic jabbing.

  “Is this some kind of power play you’ve cooked up? Because from what Callie says, you were a bitch for the Giga tournament.”

  “Like the verses games weren’t a power play? Nah, it’s like Hamster asked me to treat these matches like my regular Sniper’s play. When I play this game, unless people are doing something actively stupid, I let them be and win the game my way. People think they instinctively know how to play shooters. I don’t want to waste the time to convince them otherwise when our time together is momentary.”

  “You know that’s not going to work in a team tournament that’s not an Open Invitational right?”

  “You know that trying to embarrass me isn’t team building, right?”

  “Alright smartass,” Jenna snarls on the video call, “how would you change things? If you’re catty or shitty about this, we’re done.”

  I take a deep breath and don’t retaliate on them starting it.

  “Make it Callie’s team. You’ve accepted Hamster on his gamer cred, but you see me as the lowest ranked Sniper’s player on the roster. Since that attitude seems to persist after todays matches, it’s the best plan. The highest ranked manages the team.”

  “Would you listen?”

  “Jesus, Jenna. Come on. To a point I would. But if I told you, as a manager, to shut up and play the fucking game, what would you say?”

  She glares at me for a moment before sighing as a hand grabs her shoulder. “I’d tell you to fuck off, but I get your point.”

  “Okay, then I want you to get your ranking up so you’re not embarrassing.” Callie chimes in with petulant tone.

  “Hamster, how long do you think it will take you to get to Masters?”

  “At my current winning percentage with a one percent improvement per week, approximately seven weeks.” He doesn’t seem pleased, and I can see why, that’s the week our league play starts in FoF. He won’t have the extra time to climb.

  “I didn’t ask Ham, I asked . . .”

  “Callie. She’s right to ask. If you want proof in numbers, he’s got to do it too.”

  The girl doesn’t say anything for a minute.

  “Alright. Why don’t you two discuss what you want to do with your team and get back to us. Thanks for the games ladies.” I try to cut the call, but it’s Hamster’s so I walk out of frame to the mini fridge that now has a six pack of beer and a bowl of hot ramen in it. Score.

  I take it out of the gaming room and find a table and pop a beer.

  “I did not expect that from you.” He says as he sits across from me motioning at a beer. I nod and push the second bowl of ramen at him. “Thank you.”

  We eat in silence for a while. “I got some advice from my therapist recently, and your comment to just play the game like I normally do echoed it. Nobody asked me to lead this team, you only asked to use my invitation and to coach you personally. I tried to disengage the extra burdens I put on myself, and my decisions got simpler. Letting go of the illusion that I was the team leader was easy after realizing that. If she requires me to reach top 100 before the tournament, I’ll walk away. I’m tempted to anyway with how much focus I need to keep up with our Fates team.”

  “If that is what is required to keep you playing like you did in Fathoms of Fates today, do it. Without question. It was the best I’ve seen you play, in any game. Maybe tied with your Realm of Raidcraft play.”

  I don’t know if he’d appreciate the way we win RoR PvP matches, as they require very little innovation, and more optimized responses to every move the enemy avatars can make. We use AI analytics to help us map out the responses every time a patch changes play and then test it with live play.

  “Sorry Hamster, I will probably drop this team if they make being on it more difficult.”

  “No, no. When I suggested it, I did not realize that you don’t like the game much. I thought you just needed capable teammates to work with you. I also didn’t realize that you were so dedicated to the new immersion game you are playing.”

  “It’s not that I hate it, it’s that it has a purpose in my life, and it’s to get the anger out. To crease foreheads in ever creative ways. Getting frustrated while playing it makes me want to drop it like a hot rock.”

  “I feel the same way about real-time strategy games. After I got my big cashout, I only play them to rage and be . . . unconventional.”

  “I can’t imagine you raging. You’re so calm all of the time.”

  “I played several matches of Space Raft II after our Giga tournament. I was quite upset.”

  I suck air through my teeth and apologize. “Yeah, sorry. I was cross about the 3v3 surprise, and I let it mess with my mental. I also had to cancel on a weekend of dates with my girlfriend, which did not help.”

  “I imagine not. Your anger makes more sense. Though I am not sure why you risked our victory to teach her a lesson.”

  “I had assumed we’d be playing Sniper’s folly for a while, and I would not lasted long if she hadn’t learned that lesson immediately. Made sense at the time.” He shrugs, indicating that he doesn’t get it entirely, but also doesn’t question my reasoning.

  “Do you think I would like your Alaris game?” he asks.

  “The one I’m testing is more of a second life with a system, instead of a real game. And since I’ve never heard of you enjoying MMO’s, I don’t think so. It appeals more to me, I suppose because the person I am there feels more myself than Selena Campbell feels here. And since I can’t go back to the Real Earth, that’s kind of what matters most.”

  We sit there in silence for a while, until he finishes his beer and heads back into the gaming room. I’m not sure what that was all about, but I know he wouldn’t have had a beer with me if some part of the tension wasn’t resolved.

  /Hey babe, can I come over?/

  \If you’re mine for the night, absolutely\

  /?? On my way./

  When she opens the door, I stand on my toes and pull her in for a quick kiss, then wrap her in the biggest hug I can muster. “Missed you, blondie.”

  “Missed you too, shortie. When do your league games start?”

  “Late February. Got my first ‘attagirl’ today. Felt pretty good.”

  “Less nervous about being replaced now?” I nod. It’s not eliminated, but I don’t need to go into it.

  “Have they decided about the new HR lead for the Gaming Division?”

  She groans and slumps into me. “No. But I’m certain it’s between me and some ex-gamer that they are considering pulling in from the Real.”

  “Pfft. No gamer wants to take advice from a failed gamer. You got this.”

  She slumps onto her couch and flops back, “They don’t have to decide for two weeks!”

  I chuckle and half lie on her and fit myself to her side like a weighted blanket. “You let me know when you need a distraction. I’ll bring a car full of clowns with a horn that plays La Cucaracha.”

  “What? Why?”

  “To surprise and confuse you so you can forget everything just to ask those two questions.”

  “You are such a goofball.” I beam as she wraps her arms around me. Minutes later, she mumbles something else, but I’m far too drowsy to question it.