Dreams were the difficult part of sleeping. Science had proven that we could function with five hours per night. Corporations had lobbied to shrink the number to three, pharmaceutical companies had managed to decrease it to two, then virtual games had stepped in, “proving” that VR gaming provided 68% percent of the required sleep per day. Since high school, I had managed to function on an hour and half of sleep per night. With meds and games, it was even possible to go with less. That, however, led to nightmares.

Tonight’s nightmares were different. Everything revolved round the level hundred quest. It started with me playing in Vesperia. I had a god tier account and was defeating high level bosses in solo combat. Twinkle was there in the form of a feline mount. I flew about, when a massive mountain of boulders emerged before me, changing into a death colossus. I took out my sword and sent it flying at the boss’s head. The entire colossus burst into a thousand little pieces, each transforming into the head of someone I knew: my parents, people I knew from college, my coworkers, Jeff… I bent down to pick his face up, but before I could, it rotted away into computer symbols. I tried to shout, but the only thing that came out if my mouth was dragon eggs, each with a twenty second timer on its shell. When the first reached zero, the world exploded, throwing me out of the dream and into the grimy reality of my room.

“Good morning, Sarah!” Twinkle’s voice echoed in my ear. “You're sixteen minutes early. Just enough time to take a full shower and have some breakfast.”

I sat in my bed, breathing heavily. The terror of the nightmare was fresh in my mind, along with the deep sense of loss. I looked at the wall—grey and plain, lit up by the red light diodes of my computer. I'd hated it ever since I moved in here. The small smelly room, the mold that kept appearing no matter what chemicals I used to clean… and yet I was terrified of losing it.

“Check my mails, Twinkle,” I said, hoping for a distraction.

“You've no new mails, Sarah,” my AI said.

I stood up and looked around. There was barely enough space for me and my stuff. “Like sardines in a can” my grandmother would say when she was alive. A dive bed, a food dispenser and a bathroom of sorts. It was always meant to be a temporary accommodation, but in this world, the temporary was permanent, while permanent vanished in a week.

“Any news on FlickerFlacker?” I yawned.

“He's not in Vesperia. Logs suggest he hasn't logged on since you saw him.”

Just great. One lead less and five days remaining. A third of my time gone, and I had done absolutely nothing. I cracked my spine and knuckles, then went to get a shower. The water felt relaxing, but my fears lingered on. Too many things about that nightmare felt real. The dragon egg, the people inside me, the… Dragon egg!

“Twinkle, give me a rendering of the egg’s surface,” I said, as I rubbed the last packet of shampoo into my hair.

“Of course, Sarah! Do you want me to send you the image?”

“No, just tell me if it matches anything in Vesperia.” I grabbed a soap packet and started scrubbing it on my skin.

“It doesn't seem so, Sarah.” Twinkle said in his “sad” voice. “The egg texture is made of two thousand forty-eight individual segments, but none of them contain any identifiable elements.”

Got you! Only a coder would use such a number. So the egg itself was part of the puzzle. That would explain why it remained bound to me. Rather, it was a key item and as such could not be sold, lost or destroyed.

“Twinkle, isolate the segments, then combine them to make a single image.” I activated the shower. A ten second burst of water swept over me, washing away the dirt I had amassed in the last two days. I felt my body could breathe again. “How long will that take?” I stepped out, grabbing the only towel in view.

“Two days, eight hours on average. Do you want me to start?”

Three days. Even if I was right, that didn't give me a lot of time to make use of the clue. At least it was better than nothing.

“Start,” I said. “And tell me the instant you have a pattern. Oh, and let me know if I get any Vesperia messages.”

“Sure, thing Sarah.”

Two thousand pieces. The cheap image recognition would drain Twinkle of his processing power. Even with the modifications I'd made, the companion wasn't constructed for complex image analysis. Then again, I trusted him more than any of the newer models. As anyone on the net knew, increased functionality came with increased vulnerabilities.

The moment I got dry, I slipped into my uniform. I had twenty minutes to spare, but since there was nothing meaningful I could do online, I decided to go to work early. It was unlikely that would bring me any benefit, but at least it could take my mind off things. According to the weather report, rain wasn't expected in the next fourteen hours, although hail warnings were issued to several cities in the neighboring state. If the winds didn't shift, the hail was likely hit Hudlum this weekend. I set the alarm and left.

The streets were empty at this time of night—the night parties were near their end, the morning crowd was still asleep, only the early shifters were out, zombying off to work as usual. The commercial boards were still there, displaying their products in fine resolution. Most were poor selling products of smaller companies that couldn't afford prime time, sprinkled with thirty second “social culture” infomercial videos. I had the misfortune of catching one about graffiti art—nothing but the typical pretentious avantgarde that middle class students would indulge in, ending with the author’s full contact information. I couldn't walk away fast enough. It pissed me off that such trash got so much exposure, while I'd been playing for years and had a few thousand followers to show for it.

“Twinkle, what are the views of my dragon videos?” I asked.

“Before they were taken down, your videos had a total of seventeen thousand six hundred and twenty-five views,” Twinkle announced.

“Huh!” I froze. “Why are they down?” I took out my phone. I hadn't received any warnings, and as far as I could tell, none of the videos violated any terms of service. My hands trembled as I scrolled through the update section.

“They were taken down twelve seconds after you sold them,” my AI-companion giggled. “All net backups and comments have subsequently been removed as well.”

What the heck? This made no sense! I had already made a deal with my dark broker. If he wanted them removed, he could just have told me during our negotiations. Or maybe that was only half the reason. Information was a powerful commodity. It was possible that the broker had nothing to do with the removal. That he claimed to be the buyer didn’t mean he wasn’t hired to do so by a third party. Even so, that brought more questions. Who had hired him? Why? Was this in some way related to the quest?

A car screeched by, filling the air with a sweetish smell of ozone. I covered my face. I hated that smell. It made my skin itch. I glanced at the model—Hera-8, slick, new, coated entirely with LCD. A single headlight on this car would be enough to get me through college. Lucky bastard. I straightened my collar and marched on.

By the time I arrived at work, it was a quarter to four. My shop, as all the rest, was still closed. This was unexpected. Jeff and the shift manager would always arrive an hour before shift to prep things up. I took out my phone and checked the schedule. No changes were announced, which meant I would be starting in forty five minutes.

“Fun being the early bird, isn't it?” someone asked from across the street.

I looked up. A person was sitting on the pavement opposite me, his uniform indicating he was another unfortunate zero-hour employee. As much as I could tell in this light, he was about my age, skinny as a paperclip, and obviously bored out of his skull.

“First day,” he pointed at building behind him with his thumb. “Was supposed to start at two o’clock sharp.”

“Ouch.” That sounded bad.

Poor kid must have come fresh out of high school. Back when I started my first job, my colleagues made me “wait for ten minutes” while they went to grab something to eat after closing. I had spent the entire night, panicking, no data to call anyone, and too scared to leave since I needed the job. The following morning, they told me I passed the initiation.

“How long have you been here?”

“Three hours, give or take.” He shrugged. “I'm Kyle, by the way.”

“Sarah.”

“Heya, Sarah.” He stood up and stretched. I could hear his knees crack. “I'd invite you on a date, but the place I’m supposed to work at isn't open yet.”

“Pity.” I sent a text to Jeff. “Some other time, maybe.”

“I don't know. With my luck, this place will remain closed forever.” He sat back down, looking at me. I could tell right now he was hitting on me in some crude fashion, though I couldn't be certain if it was from boredom or genuine interest. Either way, I had time to kill, so I smiled. “Know any fun places to go to?”

“You really aren't from around here,” I chucked.

“What gave me away? The accent? The eyes?”

“If you think you'll have free time, you're not from around here.” My phone pinged; I had just gotten a message from Jeff that he'd be arriving shortly. “Jobs here are the worst, and they'll only hire you if you put in a couple of extra hours. Say goodbye to your dreams of goofing off.”

“Well, I don't know. I got to meet you.”

“Kyle, let me tell you one thing.” I crossed my arms. “There's cute and there's forcing it. Learn the difference.”

He seemed to get the hint because he shut up. Maybe I was a bit harsh, but I had neither the time nor the mood for pointless flirts. Talking was nice, but there was nothing worse than crossing the line. I glanced at my phone. Seven minutes until Jeff was here. Knowing him, he'd probably give me a five minute break extension, possibly more depending on how many people were around. I took a deep breath and started walking aimlessly to and fro.

“Offer still stands, though,” Kyle said again. “I might be a jerk, but I also have a twenty percent employee discount.”

“Maybe.” I found myself saying. If nothing, he was direct. “You better not mess it up, though.”

“Hey, don't worry about it.” He shrugged attempting the worst Italian accent I had heard since middle school. “Either I'll mess up or I won't. Why be concerned about it?”

So he was one of those people—not a serious bone in his body, never giving a damn about the consequences. I used to see plenty of those back when I was an active part of the online game guilds. We used to have a name for them: Cheshires, always smiling their way out of the mess they put everyone in. One had cost me a number of followers and forced me to leave my guild. Without a doubt, Kyle would do the same, given half the chance.

“See you around, Kyle.” I focused back on my phone. A new message came from Jeff that the monthly schedule was changed, leaving me even less time for Vesperia. I felt like smashing my phone on the ground. This was going to be a long week.