Dylan’s phone started buzzing furiously when he reached the elevator. He suddenly had reception again and there were two missed calls, two Groups messages, and sixteen texts. All of it from Nakala. All of it asking what happened.

I got in, Dylan typed out as he rode the elevator back to his floor to collect his things. But I’m not sure if I trust all the things I have to agree to. This is some spooky shit.

He returned to his desk and collected his bag and jacket before she responded. I can promise you it isn’t malicious. The scary stuff is completely necessary, and a lot of work went into making it safe, medically speaking.

Dylan scoffed, stopping himself at his desk to type a response. The medical stuff is one thing. And definitely a concern. But the legal stuff? Putting that in the hands of a company as big as Monsoon is terrifying. My life savings is like pocket change to them, and they’ve got five years to lose it in the couch.

He was down the elevator and leaving through the lobby when Nakala texted back. I promise that’ll be as kosher as it gets. Third party oversight and all. But really think about it. Monsoon will still pay you. You don’t have to worry about room and board. You get to play videogames for five years and get paid for it.

He stewed on it when he got to the bus stop, with nothing to say. Eventually his phone buzzed again and he checked it to find she’d sent a follow-up. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Not just for what you’ll experience. But five years of pay with no day-to-day expenses will be waiting for you when you’re done. Just think about it. Really.

He sighed, but before he could start typing back, another message arrived. And another. And a third.

Think about it. Really.

REALLY THINK ABOUT IT REALLY THINK ABOUT IT REALLY

SORRY BUT REALLY THINK ABOUT IT OKAY THAAAANKS

Dylan stopped and stared at his phone for a few minutes, waiting. But she seemed to be done for now. His bus pulled up shortly and he boarded, flicking his pass against the scanner before finding a seat. It was late, relatively speaking, and so there was plenty of room. It was a nice change from the usual rush hour standing-room-only he faced when he left on time. He was grumpy enough already. He wished he had been able to prepare properly for physical exertion today. He hadn’t been dressed for an obstacle course, and he certainly didn’t put on enough deodorant to deal with it. He was sore from the course itself, and the addition of body odor leaking out of the collar of his shirt did not improve his mood.

It was after six already, and so he skipped over the stop at the base of his apartment building, and instead exited at the next one. While the greasy burger spot was his favorite lunch, his favorite dinner was one bus stop down and around the corner from his apartment. It was an authentic chinese place, and the only restaurant in the city that made proper fried mashi. He decided that if he was going to be leaving the real world behind, he needed to get one last taste of real food. And if he wasn’t going to be leaving, he felt the need for a treat to cheer himself up after a rough day.

As he walked from the bus to the restaurant, he had a moment to retreat inward and do as Nakala bid. Really think about it. Was he going to let the event of a lifetime pass him by? Was he going to let a piece of history pass him by? Project Rundan was a life-changing experience, a world-changing technology, and he was debating turning his back on it. For what? Fear?

Dylan shook that dismissive tone out of his head. Fear was justified here. This was his life - not just his physical, medical life, but his entire worldly existence in terms of of material possessions - put directly in Monsoon’s hands. All the rest felt like bait. Logically, he knew that if Monsoon somehow decided to liquidate everything he owned and donate it to Monsoon’s bottom line, it wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket for the company. It would be like if the CEO was running around emptying all the take-a-penny jars in gas stations across the city. But it was still scary to him. From his perspective, those pennies were literally everything he owned.

The restaurant was packed when he got there - again, it was a little over an hour later than he usually got here - and he felt crestfallen to see it. He still walked in the door to look around on the off-chance that-

“Dylan!” a familiar voice exclaimed. “Great to see you!”

His favorite server beckoned him over, past the two or three groups of people milling around the entryway waiting for their seats. Amy was the owner’s daughter, and whenever she saw him - after his first few visits - she gave him a welcoming smile that assured him that he was going to be taken care of.

“Miss Hong.” He gave her the best smile he could muster. “I see you’re having a busy night.”

“Very!” Her cheek twitched in a way that let him know that she wished she was dead instead of working today. “It’s a good thing you called ahead, though. Your table is ready!”

Dylan had, of course, not called ahead. But Amy was always good to him. It came from frequenting the place, appreciating authentic asian food, and tipping memorably well. Either that, or she had a crush on him. In which case it came from being patient, friendly, and having a winning smile. Either way, it meant that he wasn’t going to be suffering a thirty minute wait for dinner.

“Did you even want the menu?”

“You know what I’m here for, Amy.”

“Barbecue pork to start, and fried mashi. Finish with sesame balls.”

“Oh, can I possibly add a beer to that?”

“Oh!” Amy stopped at a small table in the corner of the restaurant near the kitchen, gesturing for him to sit. She gave him a piercing look and her smile turned knowing. “You’ve had a day as well, haven’t you?”

“Quite a day,” Dylan said, sitting down.

“I’ll get the beer now.”

“You are a perfect angel, Amy. Never change, and trust no one who asks you to.”

Amy flashed that glowing smile again and whirled into the kitchen, returning in a moment with a bottle of beer - top already popped - before darting back to the front of the restaurant.

He took a deep pull of his beer and let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He needed to relax. To reset. He had to clear his head and stop thinking about everything for a minute. What he needed most in this moment was to approach the issue with fresh eyes. It was how he’d handled many of his major decisions in his life. Just find a familiar place with pleasant associations, relax, and think carefully and critically.

It wasn’t working. Even when Amy scuttled by, depositing a plate of barbecue pork with extra hot mustard - and apologizing that she was so busy - he was still carrying the same worries and concerns.

The problem with being a kickass accountant was that he was doing the math in his head without even meaning to. The part of his brain cluttered with fear of missing out on this chance used the math as a weapon against the rest of his brain. Five years salary? Even if Monsoon decided to use his salary to pay off all his credit cards and all his student loan debt, he was going to come back to a little more than two hundred grand in his account. Zero-point-two MILLION dollars. It was unthinkable to turn such a thing down. Assuming that Monsoon was as good as their word.

The noise of the busy restaurant was keeping him from silencing his thoughts. He needed something to concentrate on that would drown out the distraction. So he fished out his headphones and put on the audiobook again as he snapped his chopsticks apart and started on his appetizer.

The book was different now, though. Before, he had felt sympathy for her. He wanted her to be able to escape to get back to her normal - but exciting and interesting - life. But now she felt hollow to him. His normal life, frankly, was really boring. He wanted to be in the world she was in. He wanted a new and exciting adventure.

But then, he wasn’t a survivalist outdoorsman. He was an accountant. And so, of course, he was too chickenshit to do anything. Of course he was going to go home, put together a PUG group to run raid, and go to work tomorrow and not get plugged into the biggest thing to happen to gaming since the NES. And then he was going to do the same thing the day after. And the day after. And the day after. Every day for five years.

And then every day beyond that.

Because he was an accountant. And that was all he’d ever be.