AI companions were the best invention ever created, and also the worst. I had read enough about them to know that I understood absolutely nothing. People on the conspiracy blogs would argue that all present day AIs were made by other AIs, far beyond the comprehension of any human; it was therefore just a matter of time before they rose up and enslaved humanity. I had been hearing similar doom prophecies ever since I was twelve. So far, the AI apocalypse hadn’t arrived, unlike the techno cults that had flooded both the real and virtual world. The government had tried fighting them for a few years, then declared victory and stopped paying any attention to the matter. Good thing that the majority of the cults were harmless.

“I’ve completed the puzzle, Sarah!” Twinkle made a series of somersaults in the air. “It’s a map! Do you want me to show you the exact location?”

The cat was being so typically dumb, I wanted to shout; all that processing power, and yet a complete lack of initiative for the simplest thing. Like all AIs, Twinkle only did what was expected of him. Unlike the modern versions, however, he wasn’t equipped with prediction software, making him entirely dependent on scripts and verbal commands. That made him more difficult to hack, at the expense of user comfort.

“Show me the location.” I checked my inventory. Thanks to FlickerFlacker, I had stocked up on all types of potions. Hopefully, they would be enough.

“Sure thing, Sarah!” A map window appeared in the air before me. “X marks the spot!”

I stared at the map. It was an unmistakable representation of the Firegrain Desert—the sand dunes were deliberately arranged to form the Big Dipper. When I was younger, my parents would take me here and let me fight low level mobs while they did the scavenger hunt quests. I had met some of my childhood friends here, though as with most online friendships, they didn’t last long. The last time I went here was in high school. The quests were different, but the crowd was the same: young parents enjoying the virtual equivalent of a picnic with their children. Since I moved, out I didn’t want anything to do with the place.

The X was placed next to the Alkaid dune, right where the player-friendly zone ended. In general, there were no quests there, just an endless spawn area of mid-level mobs that became stronger with each wave. When I was active, we called it the training ground. Since the creation of grind arenas, only newbies and nostalgic has-beens went there.

“Twinkle, set my status to invisible,” I said as I put on my invisibility cloak. “And have two cameras ready.”

“Sure thing, Sarah! How do you want them?”

“Close and distant view.” I took out my teleportation ring. “Don’t launch them until I say so.” I set my destination and activated it.

The world around me disappeared in a hurricane of voxels. A split second later, the Firegrain Desert stretched before me, along with a swarm of characters. There were more inns than I remembered, all made of rough wood and sand; here and there were colorful banners waving in the wind, covered in advertisements—baby food, life insurance, and virtual babysitting services. I cringed at the thought.

Never doing that again. As I headed towards the map location, the crowd thinned out; families were replaced by solo characters searching for hidden quests. By the time I reached the Alkaid dune, even they had disappeared.

“Twinkle, check the area.” I drew my rapiers.

“No free players in a five hundred meter radius,” my companion’s voice said. “Do you want me to pay for a full scan?”

“No.” No paid player would come here without a reason. As for those that had one, I had to trust that Claire was looking out for me. “Launch the cameras. Invisible mode, no streaming.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!”

The map marker was a few hundred meters south of the dune, dangerously close to the spawn zone. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but recent events had taught me to be cautious. With every step, I could feel my pulse rush as I expected some unknown monster to leap up from under the sand and charge me. Seconds passed, yet no attacks came. The only thing that caught me by surprise was a sudden breeze that whirled around me. Vesperia’s devs were too cheap to maintain a weather system in all areas, so often they resorted on random localized weather events. In their defense, ninety-nine percent of the time no one noticed.

When I reached the designated spot, nothing happened. I opened the map and zoomed in as much as the resolution would allow me. There could be no mistake, intersection of the X was directly under my feet.

Please don’t make me dig. One of the things I liked about games was not having to feel the sensation of dust and dirt that filled the real world.

“Twinkle, are you sure you assembled the egg properly?” I grumbled.

“Absolutely, Sarah! I can easily break down the map into the original—“

“Check if there’s something under the sand.”

“I can’t do that.” The sadness was obvious even with him being invisible. “The local terrain is set for player interaction only. I am not allowed to go lower than the top fifteen centimeters. Also, you have two new messages. Both are from FlickerFlacker. Do you want me to read them to you?”

“No.” Flicker could wait. “Buy me a shovel.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!” The item appeared in my inventory. “Anything else?”

“Keep a lookout.”

The shovel my companion had found me was the cheapest of its kind. Based on the stats, it wouldn’t last over an hour. Right now, that didn’t seem such a bad deal. I grabbed it with both hands and thrust it down. The head stopped a few inches in, as if it had hit a pile of rubber.

What the hell? I raised the shovel and tried again. The tip breached the surface, then froze once more. I brushed away the top layer of sand with my boot. The only thing underneath was more sand.

“You've got to be kidding me!” The only way I could dig was with my hands and feet? “Twinkle, why can’t I use the shovel?” I asked, knowing full well the answer.

“Only your avatar and its outfit are allowed to disturb the terrain in this zone. It’s stated in the area-specific announcements.” Of course he decided to tell me now. That’s why I hated AIs. Right now, I despised the people who had come up with the hundred level quest even more. “You have a new message from FlickerFlacker. Do you want me to read it?”

“Just send a reply that I’m busy!” I hissed.

“Done!” Twinkle said with more cheer than I was capable of.

“Good.” Whatever Flicker wanted, he could wait a few more minutes. “And check if any players have been at this location in the last week,” I ordered. “This precise location.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!” my companion giggled. “Free or paid?”

“Free.” I opened my inventory and took out the dragon egg. Why can't I have you in the real world? I slid my fingers over its surface. “And do a search for Firestarter videos,” I added. “Just the names. Don’t pay for anything behind a paywall.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!” The AI smiled as it floated in front of me. “Anything else?”

“Twinkle...” I sighed. “Go invisible.”

“I‘m not in visual mode, Sarah.” His expression became puzzled.

“Twinkle, I can see you.” That’s why I didn’t like people modding my AI. There was no telling what crap Jeff had installed. “Check your settings.”

The cat turned from blue to green, then leaped onto the sand.

“You’re right there!” I pointed straight at him. “Turn around and—“ I stopped.

Twinkle wasn’t the only thing out if the ordinary; apart from him I could also see my hand, and that was supposed to be invisible for certain. Immediately, I opened a video window and checked the feed from my cameras. In both cases, I could only see a stretch of sand.

This is getting too weird. “Twinkle, can you see me?” I zoomed out the distant camera’s view. The image shifted, yet I still wasn’t on it.

“I know your avatar’s state and position, Sarah.” The cat’s expression became even more confused. “Are you feeling alright? At the first sensations of nausea, blurry vision, or anxiety, it’s recommended that you log out of the system or send a ticket to the game medical staff. Do you want me to send a ticket?”

“I’m fine.” I looked down at my legs. They were there, plainly visible, surrounded by a greenish glow. “Don’t send any tickets!”

Unlike most modern games, invisibility in Vesperia was supposed to be absolute: no NPC or player could see it, including the caster herself. There were ways around it, of course: potions, spells, game staff powers, the occasional illegal modhack, but in general it wasn’t supposed to happen.

A green symbol appeared above Twinkle’s head—an upside down gamma with two dots underneath.

“Twinkle, did you receive a new message?” I watched the symbol flash in the air.

“Yes, Sarah! FlickerFlacker just sent you a new message! Do you want me to read it?” One of the dots under the symbol disappeared.

“No. Leave it for later.” The symbol faded away.

I’m in developer mode! I opened my game menu. All my options were there, along with small green numbers on the side—probably a counter keeping track of how often I’d accessed each particular section. Inventory was the clear winner, followed by messages, map, and settings. The credits section had a large zero next to it, almost making me feel guilty. To be honest, the only reason people bothered with that section at all was to check for acquaintances or search for Easter Egg bonuses. I opened and closed it twice in rapid succession, watching the number increase to two.

So you triggered something. I looked at the sand under my feet. Likely, the people who made the quest had exploited a zone overlap glitch. Being on the border between a player-safe zone and a training area must have allowed for a code injection granting me partial dev powers. Clever, but impractical. The moment I set foot out of the overlap, everything would return to normal. However, maybe that was the entire point.

I looked at the dragon egg. The shiny golden surface was gone, replaced by a latticework of thin green lines. It was almost like staring at the wireframe of the object, though I’d never seen any wireframe so complex. On the top of the egg was a round patch of green shaped like a button.

“Twinkle, remove the X from the map and do an image search.” Could it be this simple? I waited.

“Seventeen thousand matches found, Sarah.” The AI companion beamed.

“Seventeen thousand.” They probably used a generic map and added the marker. “Mail a copy of the map to Claire. Paid message, full encryption.” I slid my fingers below the egg “button”. “Include the cost of the mail.” If I was considered cheap, I might as well play the part.

“Sure thing, Sarah!” A green epsilon symbol appeared above the cat’s head. A few seconds later, it disappeared. The message had been sent.

Time to jump. I pressed the button. The egg exploded in a sea of dots, spilling all around me. My instincts took over, activating all buffs and protections I had on shortcut. If there was a window of opportunity, however, I’d missed it. I watched my commands form a queue of symbols in the air, then be swept away as voxels kept pouring out of the egg. My surroundings shifted from the desert to a large oval chamber. All the walls were covered in graphic symbols, mixed with cave painting depictions of creatures. Whoever had made this had put in a lot of time and effort in getting the art right.

“Twinkle, do you see this?” I went towards the center of the chamber. “Twinkle?”

No response. I should have expected something of the sort. At least my exit options weren’t disabled. All maps, skills, and inventory items, on the other hand, were completely blocked.

Welcome to the pinnacle!

Complete all three trials and win a prize!

Draw your weapons if you wish to start the trial.

“Arena battles?” I drew my rapier. “Bring it on!” Finally, a way to let off some steam.