Ryouta’s eyes open. He’s met with the sight of his monitor gently illuminating the spinning ceiling fan above. He probably should have turned the lights on before immersing himself.

His arms and legs have difficulty moving. It feels like he isn’t even in the right body. He’s heard of body dysphoria cases skyrocketing after the release of this game, and now he understands why.

Who wants to come back into their real bodies when they can be whatever they want in that game? He’s played other immersive virtual reality games before, but the unparalleled realism of this latest game is on an entirely new level. Nothing can compare to just how real it feels to be in those avatars.

Realizing that he’s back in this useless body is almost enough to make him tear up. Were it not for the fact that he’s used to this feeling of self-hatred, he likely would be crying already.

He clenches his fists repeatedly until he can move his arms again. This is why they say to lie down before immersion.

As soon as he can move his arms again, he smacks his thighs until he has feeling in them before finally removing the headset from around the top of his head. He can’t help but hold it above his face to look at. Such a small, innocent looking thing is capable of transferring him to such a vast, amazing world. It is capable of transporting him out of his useless body into the masculine, strong body of Fenrir. He gets to be the kind of man he has always dreamed of being.

He sets the headset down next to him and stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to wait an entire day to play more. There is nothing more that he wants right now than to delve back into that world and begin exploring once more. Potentially dying and losing all progress doesn’t even matter to him. He just wants freedom from this body – from this reality.

His stomach grumbles. It’s odd. Despite believing that he is full, his body is craving food. He doesn’t feel hungry, but knows his body is.

“Saya, why—” Ryouta begins asking, but when he realizes that the only one whom can hear him is the ceiling fan, he smiles a stupid smile. “I’m so stupid,” he says as he finally gets out of bed.

He winces when he stands up and puts weight on his legs. This is a feeling that he definitely didn’t miss in-game.

Looking out the window, he sees the city alive with enough lights on the streets to make one believe it’s still daylight. He remembers when he could see out into the miles upon miles of green fields, but now all he sees are more high-rises. “Bet the last generation never thought they’d be running from the coasts instead of to them,” he says, closing his blinds so that what little light shining through is stopped.

He stops by the picture on his counter on his way out of the room. A small boy with black hair is being held up by an older man whom just looks like an older version of the child, and a gentle-looking woman stands next to them. A dog is obediently sitting at their feet with a big, slobbery tongue hanging out from his mouth. His tail must have been wagging since it looks blurry.

Ryouta wonders what his parents would think of how far virtual reality has come. They never were into video games, but he bets even they would be amazed by the latest technology.

He limps through the hallway into his living room. His living room and kitchen are more like one large room separated only by a small half wall that serves as a bar counter for the kitchen. Next to the kitchen is the sliding door leading to the small balcony that he never makes use of. On the far end of the living room is the door to the outer hallway, and other than the bathroom connected to his bedroom, that’s everything. Only having a few hundred square feet in his apartment is all that he needs when living by himself. The living room isn’t even decorated aside from an old couch and a television which only gets used whenever he’s eating.

Ryouta takes a bottle of hard cider off of the kitchen counter alongside a bag of salt and vinegar chips. Junk food and alcohol are two things that humanity will never run out of.

He gently sits down on the couch and says, “Penguin, on.” As for why he named his television “penguin,” that is a mystery that the world may never discover.

Really, it was the first thing that came to mind when setting it up and he didn’t feel like bothering with a better name.

The screen comes alive with images of newscasters arguing with one another. Do they ever do anything else?

“I’m telling you, Rachel! We can not allow so much of our youth to be playing these games! We have no idea what long-term effects the techno—”

Next.

A rerun about extinct oceanic life is on. “It may be sad, but at least we have video and pictures of these beautiful creatures in their natural environment,” the British commentator says. “We must learn from our mistakes and—”

Next.

“You’re tellin’ me that he left you, and this beautiful baby boy up on the screen, behind for an artificial intelligence?” the mustached host says, looking into the camera in disbelief as a woman cries into her hands. The man accused of leaving her for an AI is sitting in a chair across from the crying woman, and the entire audience is booing at him.

Ryouta can’t take anything on this show seriously. Everybody lies and exaggerates, but it’s a good show for when he wants trashy drama to scratch that rare itch.

Next.

Next.

Next.

Next.

There’s never anything on.This is why cable is on its final legs.

He flashes by a commercial showing a cute girl in a sweater and switches back to the channel. Unfortunately, all he sees is the name of some clothes company and a phone number on the screen.

Next.

Oh, look, another news channel acting like it’s the end of the world. “Tensions are rising higher than ever before! We lose more of our coastline every year, and those who are too poor to move to the inland cities have no choice other than to congregate into—”

First it was North Korea, then Russian, then China, then North Korea again, and now it’s the ocean.

Next.

“Efforts in cleaning up orbital debris are slow, but with recent advancements by the private sector, we should see new satellite launches available within the next decade,” some guy with no remarkable features says. He’s the most generic looking white guy that Ryouta has ever seen.

“Sure, let’s just fill the orbit with more satellites right after cleaning them all up. Great plan, Mr. Vanilla Bean,” Ryouta groans as he shovels some chips into his mouth.

He just wants to play his new game more. The downside of resting on the bed for so long is that he isn’t tired at all, so it’s not like he can just sleep the wait away. Well, what if…

Nope, there isn’t enough alcohol left to black himself out. “Guess I need to order more.”

Next.

He’s finally made his way to a children’s network full of politically correct yet subtly offensive jokes. Children who watch this stuff have no idea what the real implications of the show are. They think it’s full of happiness, joy, friendship, and laughter, but the truth is much darker. Any critical thinker can see that the world portrayed in the show is not one that should be desired. Instead, it is a morbid reality with a doomed future that none of the characters are aware of.

“Oh no! The wave destroyed my sand castle!” the boy character says.

“Don’t worry! I’ll help you build another one, and we’ll build it farther away this time!” the girl character says.

Together, the two toons build a quick and small sand castle a good distance away from where the last one was. Alas, another wave rolls in and wipes it away.

“Darn it! Okay, let’s try again, but we’ll go even farther this time! Hey, where’d you go?” the boy asks, looking around for his friend. Instead of helping him again, she’s hanging out with another group of kids on a patch of grass next to the beach. They built a group of tall sand castles standing next to one another, and the girl is asking them with doe eyes if she can build one there too. “Hmph. What’s the point of a sand castle if you’re not even going to build it on the beach!” he shouts at the group before returning to look at the water just in time for another wave to hit him. This time, the wave carries him all the way up to the group and sends his body crashing through their castles! Each one crumbles down on top of him. He looks up at them with a smug expression as the kids cry and yell for their parents, telling them that he ruined their castles.

“That’s what you get you little assholes,” Ryouta says before switching the TV off. He tosses his bag of chips over onto the counter. The bag slides right off and lands on the floor, spilling a few chips. Ryouta looks over at it and groans.

He’ll pick it up later.

With his bottle of hard cider in hand, he heads back into his bedroom and sits down at his computer. It’s time to order more booze.

Fiscord is blinking with a notification message. He has a friend request from somebody named “HushedVoice.” Could that be Serra? Might as well find out.

>HushedVoice: Hi! I hope this is the right person. I had Bone tell me what your username was because I forgot, but I guess if you’re not the right person, you won’t know who Bone is. This is Serra! Me and Bone logged out after finding a small cave to log out in. It was really uncomfortable since it was too small for the both of us, but there was no choice >_

- Serra

The introduction message pops up after accepting the request. He has it set so that he doesn’t get those messages until after he accepts the request. Too many people have tried sending him hate via the messages attached to requests. He may be on a new account now that nobody really knows about yet, but it's better to play it safe.

“You’re a lot more talkative in text,” Ryouta says with a smile.

>TheMemeStruggle: Hey! This is Fenrir.

Alright, back to ordering more—

>HushedVoice: Oh, good! I was worried I might have mistyped your name or got the numbers wrong. I’m so glad I didn’t mess it up! I’m usually really bad with names, and adding numbers to the mix just makes it worse x_x.

“Dang, I’m not used to anybody replying so quickly.”

>TheMemeStruggle: Lol, well I’m glad you got it right. I know what you mean, I’ve messed up the numbers before.

>HushedVoice: I hate numbers! I’ve always avoided other games like this before because all the super serious people and their numbers intimidated me. I’ve watched a few videos before of the world’s top guilds doing stuff, and they talk about DPS, optimizations, min-maxing, rotations, and none of that sounds fun! It just gives me a headache even thinking about all of that stuff. What’s the fun in playing a game if you’re just doing math all the time?

>TheMemeStruggle: You sure can type a lot for being a hushed voice. I never would have thought you’d type so much from how quiet you are in-game.

A minute passes with no reply. Shit.

>TheMemeStruggle: Sorry, it’s not a bad thing. It’s kind of cute. I’m just surprised. Wasn’t expecting it.

Another minute passes by. He opens up the web browser to order his alcohol to take his mind off of how he probably upset he—

>HushedVoice: Sorry! I had to brb and tried to be quick. It’s okay! I’m not offended or anything. I know what you mean, it’s okay. All my friends used to tell me how they’d be surprised about how much I type in text messages. Nobody ever expects it! I’m just full of surprises o_o

>TheMemeStruggle: You’re a dork is what you are.

>HushedVoice: Hey! What does that mean? You trying to start something with me, punk?! I’ll beat you up!

Ryouta smiles and tries to keep himself from laughing, but he ends up spitting out his hard cider all over the carpeted floor next to his desk.

>TheMemeStruggle: You really are full of surprises, you just made me spit my drink out on my floor. You going to come over here and clean that up for me?

>HushedVoice: Mwahaha! It was my plan all along! You may be a killer of man, but I am a killer of… carpets! xD

>TheMemeStruggle: Did you learn those emojis from your mom? Nobody types those anymore, dork.

>HushedVoice: You have no proof! No evidence! I deny everything!

>TheMemeStruggle: Let me invite you to the group chat, Miss Defense Attorney.

Invitation to The Great Meme War of ’34 sent to HushedVoice

Their conversation switches over to the group channel. He’s surprised that she’s not trying to keep talking in direct messages.

>Dwarfaholic: Who is this.

>TheMemeStruggle: Hey, Bone, that’s Serra.

>HushedVoice: The big green guy! Hi, Bone! I’m Serra. Thanks for carrying me to safety.

>Dwarfaholic: You talk more now.

>HushedVoice: And I can actually understand what you’re saying now without that accent!

>Dwarfaholic: YOU HAVE PROBLEM WITH MY VOICE. I REGRET CARRYING YOU TO CAVE.

>HushedVoice: xD, sorry! I’m just not used to hearing accents. Your voice is like… a rock!

>Dwarfaholic: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEN

>Dwarfaholic: MEAN*

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: omg

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: serra your hilarious

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: we need to be like best friends

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: pls

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: pls gib nao

>HushedVoice: Olly! I think you’re Olly, anyways. There’s nobody else in this group. How do I change my name so it’s not just one word?

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: hang on bab, i got u

Viktor’s Favorite Slut has changed HushedVoice’s nickname to Fenny’s Bae

Fenny’s Bae: What! >///< Why you do this to me?! I thought we were friends! You were the chosen one, Olly! You were meant to bring balance to the nickname, not destroy it!

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: omg

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: i have no idea what your referencing

>Viktor’s Favorite Slut: but its great

Ryouta stares at the conversation in disbelief. He had no idea that Serra would be like this. It’s really true that some people can behave completely differently in text than in person. Some people treat virtual reality the same they do real life, which he’s assuming that she does, while most just treat it like it’s the internet still. That’s what he does.

>TheMemeStruggle: Glad to see you’re all getting along so well! I can’t wait to see you be this talkative around us in-game, Serra.

>Fenny’s Bae: OLLY PLEASE CHANGE MY NAME COME ON X///////////X

Viktor’s Favorite Slut has changed Fenny’s Bae’s nickname to Orc Cock Lover

>Orc Cock Lover: THIS. IS. EVEN. wORSE. THAN. BEFORE. OLLY I DEMAND YOU CHANGE MY NAME RIGHT THIS INSTANT OR I WILL COCKBLOCK YOU FROM EVERY GUY YOU EVER MEET

Viktor’s Favorite Slut has changed Orc Cock Lover’s nickname to Fenrir’s #1 Fangirl

TheMemeStruggle has changed Fenrir’s #1 Fangirl’s nickname to Serra Berra

>Serra Berra: >////> okay I’ll keep this one, it’s kind of cute.

Viktor’s Favorite Slut has changed Serra Berra’s nickname to Blushing Emoji XD

>Blushing Emoji XD: Hey! Are you making fun of me? I’ll beat you up, punk!

TheMemeStruggle has changed Blushing Emoji XD’s nickname to Serra Berra

A battle ensues between Ryouta and Spencer over Serra’s nickname. The battle only ends when Spencer finally says goodnight and logs off.

>Serra Berra: Hey hey, Bone, aren’t you in Russia? Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Isn’t it like super later over there?

The green dot next to Dwarfaholic’s name turns red.

>TheMemeStruggle: He just set himself to do not disturb, so I guess you made him realize what time it is. Don’t worry, he never says goodnight. He’s rude like that.

>Serra Berra: Oh, okay!

Ryouta sees her typing a message to him in direct messages. She types, stops, types, stops, types, stops. He wonders if she knows that he can see her indecision or hesitation, whichever it is.

>HushedVoice: Hey, ummm, is it okay if you tell me your real name? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours! Sorry, this might be weird, but I’m not really used to the character name thing. It feels so much less… I don’t know, less personal. It’d just be really nice if I could call you your real name! Is it too soon to ask that? Sorry if it is, I’m new to this whole thing, so you might have to teach me the rules, Teach!

>HushedVoice: Ah! My name is back to normal! I liked Serra Berra…

>TheMemeStruggle: Oh, yeah, nicknames are just for group chats basically. Anyways, it’s alright. Just don’t go asking for everybody’s real names. Some people might find it weird, but I don’t really have a problem with it.

Despite sending that message, he still hesitates in typing out his real name which she seems to be waiting for. There are some people online who would love to get ahold of his real name. That would make their jobs so much easier. Damn kids with nothing better to do with their lives.

>TheMemeStruggle: It’s Ryouta.

He instantly wants to delete his message, hopefully before she sees it, but he knows it’s too late when she immediately starts typing. She’s already seen it. Now he just has to hope that this doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

>HushedVoice: Ryouta! I like that, it’s a really cute name.

Ryouta cringes. She just had to go and call his name cute. He hates being called cute. It’s the only thing anybody ever calls him. He knows she means it as a compliment, but it may as well be a mocking slap in the face to him.

>TheMemeStruggle: Aha, yeah, I get that a lot.

>HushedVoice: I’m Serra!

>TheMemeStruggle: Come on, tell me your real name! That was the deal.

>HushedVoice: That is my real name!

Ryouta blinks a few times.

>TheMemeStruggle: Really? You used your real name? Next you’re going to tell me you made your character look like yourself.

>HushedVoice: I did! I’m pretty happy with my name and how I look, so why not be the same in the game? I’m pretty cute if I do say so myself!

Wow. She’s got some confidence when she’s not face to face with people. He likes that, actually. There are too many people who complain about themselves in reality and pretend to be somebody else in-game.

Like himself.

>TheMemeStruggle: I will admit you’re pretty cute, so you’re not wrong. I guess you're not a 500 pound guy in your mom's basement.

>HushedVoice: >//////////////////< Only I can call myself cute! And what's what supposed to mean?!

>TheMemeStruggle: Okay, I’ll never call you cute again.

>HushedVoice: Wait! I take that back!

>TheMemeStruggle: Anyways, dork, you should probably change your name and looks. If that’s your real stuff then it would be easy for somebody to dox you or stalk you, and trust me, you don’t want that.

>HushedVoice: You said you’d protect me, so that’s your problem!

>TheMemeStruggle: How am I supposed to protect you in real life?!

>HushedVoice: You’ll just have to come move to New Charleston so you can protect me from all the bad guys wanting to kidnap me!

Ryouta’s heart skips a beat. He steps away from his computer to open the blinds and look out over the city in front of his window.

Don’t coincidences like living in the same city only happen in shows and stories?