When they came out of that tunnel just barely twenty-four hours ago, the party entered another world. This is the High Country now. They sleep in the dirt and Ava wakes up with frost on the tips of her eyelashes. Bach's beard is riddled with tiny icicles where his breath has condensed during the night. They tinkle like a chandelier when he snores. Ava stifles a laugh.

She rises from the shallow depression left in the dirt where she spent a few restless hours trying to sleep. She is the first one up, the others still slumbering in a ring around the fire-pit. She holds her hand—the one which remains made of flesh and bone—close to the coals and they are still warm. Ava smiles. She will renew the fire and commence with cooking breakfast for her companions. She feels damned near wholesome this morning.

The air is crisp and clear and the view spectacular. Panoramic snow-capped peaks jut up in every direction, their pristine white summits striking a breath-taking contrast with the bluest sky she's ever seen – not that she's seen all that many. For a moment she begins to mourn all the blue skies she's forgotten but then gazing east she witnesses the sunrise spill over distant mountain ramparts like so much pastel paint and she sighs contentedly. It is glorious and she is at ease, even if this magnificent landscape is perhaps all merely a figment of Dr. Sara's cruel construction. Even if in reality she's sealed inside a capsule in some underground AVA sweatshop, a vegetable lost inside a game she can't differentiate from reality.

It's a gorgeous game, at least. Taking full advantage of my GPU.

She goes for a walk along the edge of the forest. It feels as though she has all the time in the world. There's no rush to summon kindling – she can collect firewood by hand while having a stroll like a normal person. Birds greet the new day, singing and dancing in the branches. A butterfly flutters past, shedding a trail of gold dust. Were these vivid and fragrant wildflowers here yesterday? Ava halts in her tracks. She stares into the woods. The butterfly glides past, disappearing into the trees.

“Are you... “ She stops. Who is she talking to? The forest itself? She hugs the sticks she's gathered against her chest and ponders. Then all at once she just blurts, “are you trying to lure me in?”

And a warm breeze breathes out from the forest, washing over Ava, filling her with a serenity and peace unlike she has ever known. This is ecstasy. She takes a step closer to the line of demarcation where the forest begins. And another. And are her eyes closed? She opens them languidly and there is someone in the woods staring right back. A set of yellow and iridescent eyes like those of a big cat. Ava gasps and steps back blinking as though she's just been startled awake from a dream. She scans the trees but there's nothing to see. Whatever was there has vanished without leaving a trace, and Ava is alone once more.

Did I just imagine that?

The branches she had been collecting lay in a pile at her feet. She kneels to pick them up, keeping a vigilant eye on the forest boundary.

“I'm sorry, I just can't go back in there,” Ellie groans. The fire pops and cinders spook skyward. “I think I'm becoming a claustrophobe.”

“You and I will wait behind,” Bach assures her, fingering out morsels from Javors' casserole. “While the others explore the mine.”

Darby the Slayer Apprentice sits nearby eating his breakfast, a troubled look on his face.

“You know,” he says directly to Bach, forcing a little grin, “there are whispers that Horst has a dragon.”

“Better hope those whispers are wrong,” Bach replies without so much as glancing up from his vittles, “or you and everyone you love will for certain die violently and for nothing.” He gets up from the fire and takes his breakfast alone on a rock some distance from the campsite and the others.

“Hard to believe that's the same man I've heard so much about,” Darby says once Bach is out of earshot. He shakes his head mournfully.

“He's not,” Ava says, “he's been hurt.”

“I saw. What happened to his hand?”

“A dragon stole it, along with his skill chips.”

“So he's completely reset? Factory specs, man – that sucks.” Darby frowns. He sits in silence, chewing his breakfast. “Which dragon was it? Do you know?”

“It was her mother,” Ellie interjects.

“Your mother?” His eyebrows raise.

Ava can only shrug like, yeah I don't know what's up with that, either.

“So which one is she?” Darby wonders. “I think I know them all.”

“Dr. Sara,” Ava admits. Darby's eyes narrow with recognition.

“Oh!” He exclaims. “She's famous! I have to admit though, I didn't know she was a dragon. But it makes sense now. You're not 'Ava' – you're an AVA.”

“I'm both,” she says, “and I guess maybe neither, too.”

“And your hand – you manifested that yourself? The way the Simulacrum do.”

“Yes.” She holds it up for inspection. “But I'm not one of them.”

“No, of course not,” Darby smirks, “you're not Scum. But they use you – you know? They stigmatize to scare us – that's what dragons do. They make up stories to divide us from our allies so we're easier to conquer.”

“You think AVAs are your allies?” Ellie seeks to clarify.

“I'll tell you how it is: we're all in this together. Everyone who isn't a dragon. So of course AVAs are my comrades. I mean it's not like you get to choose your family.” He snorts.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Ava agrees. She gazes off, studying Bach while he struggles to feed himself with only one hand.

“Well here we go again,” Javors sings, sliding the [Omega Key] into the lock, “who's up for an encore?”

The stiletto wiggles and twists and once again the tumblers click and the lock is picked. But this time something's different. The door reverberates with electronic buzzing and then suddenly it begins to slowly grind open of its own accord. Javors steps back – right onto Darby's foot.

“So sorry,” he apologizes.

The party takes a few shuffling steps back so the door can open completely. It's odd—this isn't the mechanism which opened the mine before—and Ava can't help but be reminded of her mother's lab: how at first it had identified as one dungeon but later became another. It could really only make sense if she accepted the unreal nature of the world. If she accepted this as a gameworld, where each location is in fact written in computer language and expressed only in her mind as a tangible place.

Meaning the lab they originally entered—the one with the nursery beneath it—was its own zone, so to speak, and when they were chased back inside by Sara's dragon they in fact entered an entirely different location, sharing some of the same art assets and architecture as that which they had already explored but also possessing its own, unique design. It hurts her head trying to conceptualize it, but in the same manner this iron mine might have shifted to become something else, too. Is it possible there will be Scum inside now, where before they were absent?

“Ava?” Uri asks, his hand suddenly on her shoulder. “You ready?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she says, “just thinking.”

“About what?” Darby wonders.

“Nothing important,” she lies, “let's just go.”

They slink inside, Ava leading and lighting the way once more. And it does feel different in here. The air is heavier, more alive – somehow more dangerous. Does it smell different? Less like musty stone and more like.... gasoline? The tunnel splits, offering three options. Does she recall this intersection? During the previous journey they would have been arriving from the opposite direction – would she have noticed the other tunnels at all?

“We found the vein this way,” Uri says, pointing to indicate the leftmost corridor. Ava has no idea how he can sound so certain of this. Maybe he was just paying closer attention than her during their previous exodus.

Or maybe he's an NPC, she thinks against her will, scripted to lead you someplace.

Trudging along in the dim, Ava keeps the light from her hand subdued in order to avoid being detected. She's learning to control the appendage more precisely, and although she may never possess the destructive versatility Bach once displayed she has at least gained the same functionality as a store-bought flashlight with a dimmer switch. She chuckles softly – the others can't hear it over their shoes scraping against the stone floor. Up ahead the tunnel curves left and suddenly the cave floor feels softer underfoot as they tread upon the ashen remains of the Dire Drill.

“Feels warmer in here all of a sudden,” Darby notes.

“This is it,” Uri whispers, “just around the next bend.”

“Wait.” Javors halts their advance. His ears twitch. “Listen – do you hear that?”

"No,” Ava whispers, “I don't hear any—“

“It's music,” Javors interrupts, sounding mesmerized.

“Yeah,” Darby says, “I hear it now, too.”

Ava holds her breath and closes her eyes. She listens and there it is – she can hear the music. It's rhythmic and industrial in a folksy way – like subway buskers drumming on scavenged objects; upturned buckets and trash cans and lengths of copper pipe going clang! Scraping and banging and then rapid-fire clinking like a little jackhammer striking a cymbal. And underneath it all – does she hear singing? It's impossible to discern any lyrics from among the other noises but the voices are there, a deep chorus like a barbershop quartet comprised of nothing but bass.

“Sure doesn't sound like a song Scum'd sing to me,” Darby whispers.

“Yeah,” Uri agrees, “but what the hell is it?”

“Only one way to find out,” Ava concludes. She hushes her companions with a single, glowing finger placed across her lips and recommences the march, tip-toeing and slinking along, trying to take whoever waits around the bend by surprise. Suddenly it is much warmer in the tunnel, and the cave walls flicker with soft, orange light – there must be a fire of some sort burning up ahead.

Ava halts the company and dims her hand completely. There is still enough light to see by. Their next steps will bring them around the corner to confront whatever is making the music, and the voices can be deciphered now, singing:

We're slaving in the Underground,

Where iron ore and coal can be found,

Boss makes a dollar, while I make a dime—

“What in the world?” Ava wonders. The song goes on, even more ridiculous than before, the singers' voices deep and jovial and Javors can't help but tap his toe compulsively. Ava turns to the others and says, “ready? Let's have a look.”

The party creeps forward, finally just turning the corner and then halting to observe the weird scene. Uri rubs his eyes in disbelief. What they witness is a trio of diminutive robots – broad and stout but none more than four feet in height. Each has a magnificent waist-length beard of braided copper and silver wires. Their metallic bodies have been molded to appear clothed in coveralls and miner caps – but their headlamps aren't turned on. Instead, the light is being cast by a wagon with a mobile furnace burning in the bed. The robo-dwarves extract from the vein and shovel the iron ore directly into the furnace, the sounds of their labor perfectly synced to create their song's rhythmic accompaniment.

Suddenly Javors cannot contain the jig he's been dying to dance. He taps his toes, kicking up ash.

“Javors!” Ava whispers, “stop that!”

“I'm sorry,” he whisper-cries, “I can't help it. I love this song!”

“How do you know this song?” Darby asks.

“I don't!”

The ratman emerges from their cover and begins to clap and sing along. The robo-dwarves turn about in unison. One drops a huge hunk of hematite and his jaw gapes, mouthing a silent scream. Another freezes in place with steam projecting from his ears, his pick-axe on his shoulder. The third carefully shuts the little door on their mobile furnace and then his head spins thrice. They're slapstick silly, silver-and-gold stooges, and Ava can't help but let out a little giggle.

And in the next instant the eyes of all three flare, red and ominous, as they turn to attack the intruders.