The headaches started an hour before I woke up. At first, I thought they were a hat that I’d put on too tight. Then I heard Twinkle’s alarm function fill my world with synthetic meowing.

Stupid AI, I thought instinctively as I slowly came to. It was said that sleeping in a rig reduced sound disturbances, but that didn’t count for Twinkle—I had granted him the right to be annoying in both worlds, and he took full advantage.

“Hello, Sarah!” he said cheerfully upon registering I had woken up. “You managed to sleep—“

“Mute,” I cut him short. My head was doing enough cracking without his help. A few images of my dream floated through my mind before vanishing, leaving me with the bleak reality of my room.

I checked the time. It was seven past ten, and I had the morning off. Part of me wanted to get back to sleep and forget about everything. A sharp pain in my stomach made me reconsider.

“Twinkle, do I have any stomach meds?” I went to the bathroom. Statistically, sixty-seven present of stomach pain was due to starvation or indigestion, and I knew I had eaten plenty lately. “Or painkiller shots?”

“Yes, but all are expired,” he said with a sad face. “Do you want me to get some more?”

“No.” I sat on the toilet. “I’ll be fine.”

In the current financial climate, everyone liked to joke that only the rich could afford proper toilets. I used to laugh at the joke as well. Then again, I had only seriously overeaten twice in my life. The first time was back when I was a child and had stumbled upon my family’s yearly supply of biscuit bars. The second time, I had managed to find a loot item worth a hundred and seventy bucks. Both times, I regretted my actions. Now, it felt more like a semi-regret.

“You have two messages from Claire.” Twinkle didn’t even have the decency to wait before I finished. Usually, the paranoid safety settings would catch that, but clearly Jeff’s involvement had messed things up a bit. “He’s reminding you that there are slightly over twenty-four hours left and was wondering—“

“Tell him that all’s fine.” I didn’t have the desire to get into that right now. To be honest, I didn’t feel like logging on just yet. “Is Flicker active?”

“Flicker hasn’t logged on since your last meeting.”

That wasn’t good. I had hoped he’d solve his family problems and sneak back on. From what I could remember, he had a few more hours until his quest window closed. Technically, that wasn’t supposed to bother me. He was just a rich kid I’d met less than a week ago, and yet I hoped he would.

“What about Firestarter?” I asked.

“She was online for a few hours after you went to sleep, but logged off,” Twinkle said with a purr. “Do you want me to tell you when she logs on again?”

“Sure.” There was no harm in that, although I preferred that she didn’t until I managed to solve the riddle. “Twinkle, do a search for nudity mods on Vesperia.” I cracked my neck. Somehow, even sleeping in my rig managed to make my shoulders tense up.

“Such mods are illegal, Sarah.” Twinkle actually gasped. “There’s mention on seven hundred and twelve boards how to achieve near nudity. All of the posts are outdated and unusable since three months ago.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise. Nudity was one of the huge earners on the web, which made it almost exclusively restricted. Adult entertainment had consolidated into a near complete monopoly. For a game to have any such elements, they pretty much had to be syndicated. There were hundreds of mods that allowed a glimpse for a few days, but those were reserved for more popular games. After all, pirates and modders had to make a living, too.

“Even in dev mode?” I thought about my encounter with the elf.

“There is no indication of that, Sarah.”

“Okay. Play me some music.”

I finished my business, then indulged in a double shower. The pain in my stomach hadn’t completely gone, making me choose to skip breakfast. Grabbing my phone, I glanced through the four clues I had. They made as little sense as they had yesterday. Based on everything so far, the solution had to be annoyingly simple, yet I still couldn’t see it.

Maybe I need to take a step back... I checked the time. It was twenty to eleven—four hours before I had to start work.

“Twinkle, what’s the weather forecast for today?” I grabbed my work uniform and folded it gently in my backpack.

“Twenty-nine, strong winds, no rain expected,” the AI companion recited.

That’s a change. There had been far too much rain lately.

“Twinkle, keep monitoring all my mails and Vesperia messages.” I put on my backpack. “I’ll be going out for a while.”

The crowds swept me as I went outside, filling the air with the thick smell of scent remover. It had become so cheap that most people preferred to use it instead of taking a shower. I too had a canister at work, to make sure I got as many clients as possible.

Billboards changed their ads in quick succession, typical of midday practices. I glanced at a few, but my heart wasn’t in any of the products, games least of all.

“Move!” Someone shoved me as they rushed past, through the crowd. I had done the same most days going to work, or hurrying back home to log on to my games. It was part of life. Today, it felt strange, almost unnatural.

I moved to the side of the building and waited. People keep on walking past, none bothering to look at me. Just like low-level NPCs, they would continue along their predetermined path, using a clumsy pathfinder that would lead them to their destination. For a moment, I thought I could see the invisible lines they followed to get from point A to point B. A blink of the eye, and the lines were gone.

“Is everything okay, Sarah?” Twinkle asked. “You have stopped for no reason. Are you feeling ill?”

“No, everything’s fine.” I felt slightly light headed. “It’s just the crowd. I hate crowds.”

For the next half hour, I walked aimlessly around the block. Most of the shops and buildings I had seen every day. Here and there, however, there would be something new that popped up on a temporary basis. With businesses changing rapidly, the local government had backed the quick license policy: everyone could apply for a one-month permit along with their rent. People knew that most of the new businesses would be a failure, but that didn’t stop them from trying in the hopes of beating the odds.

“You seem lost.” A man grabbed my attention. Normally, I would ignore him completely, but the chrome-covered techno rosary caught my eye. “Maybe I could offer guidance?”

The question made me smirk. The black clothes with neon threads screamed that he was part of a techno sect or one of the new age religions that had started flooded the country. Ever since they had appeared, they would pester players online, trying to convert them to whatever random set of values they held. So far, I hadn’t seen many in the real world; cultists tended to stay clear of working-class neighborhoods, preferring to be among the very poor or the very rich. This one seemed quite different. He was older—seemingly in his sixties—clean shaven and surprisingly well kept. Couldn't spot any tattoos, brands, or piercings, just a single rosemary round his neck.

“Hesitant?” He smiled like someone used to the reaction.

“No,” I lied. “Just not interested.”

“Ah.” The man nodded. “That’s what most say. And still I have faith in the RNG. After all, it’s just a matter of time.”

“You’re from a techno cult,” I stated the obvious.

“Official class three religion,” he corrected. “I’m Jasper, humble servant of Jeremy, patron saint of gamers. If you want, I’ll say a few prayers for your drop ration to improve.”

“No thanks.” I hadn’t heard of this particular cult, but there were far too many to keep track. “Shouldn’t you be in the web? What good is a gamer saint out here?”

“Gamers are people, too.” He smiled widely, revealing a set of glass teeth. “Even Jeremy walked these streets before his ascension.”

“These exact streets?” I snorted.

“The gospels are unclear.” Jasper shrugged. “It’s certain that he walked some streets in some cities. The important thing is what happened after. But I doubt you’ll be interested. You don’t seem like the religious type.”

Your cult is nowhere close to a religion. “Guess I’m not.”

“But you’re still lost.” He smiled.

“And what makes you say that?”

“It used to be my job to know back when I was a marketing behavior analyst. I used to spend a hundred hours per day making people like you spend money on anything I chose and think it was your decision.” He took a small bottle of something from his back pocket and offered it to me. I shook my head. “Well, it doesn’t always work.” He opened the bottle and gulped down its contents. “Or maybe it has? Who is to say that I wanted to share my drink with you?”

I had seen enough suggestive hypnosis videos to know he was terrible at it. And at the same time, there was something amusing that kept me from walking away.

“So what exactly does Jeremy do?” I crossed my arms.

“Saint Jeremy,” the man stressed on the saint part. “The best way I could describe it is that he can affect everything in the game world, from drop ratios to critical hit chances. All you have to do is say a brief prayer to him after logging on, and you’ll see the results for yourself.”

“Isn’t it usually before logging on?” And I probably can only do that with the correct prayer mod that I have to buy.

“You have to speak his name while in the game, or he won’t hear you.”

That’s convenient. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole cult originated because of a spyware virus. The hook was interesting, but now that he had gotten to the sales pitch, I could expect the usual line: do something and offer a tip.

“Maybe some other time.” I joined the crowd.

“You still have his blessings,” I heard Jasper’s voice behind me. “He’ll keep an eye on you until you’re no longer lost.”

I quickened my pace. When I passed the order, I looked over my shoulder briefly, then went on. It didn’t seem like anyone was following me.

“Twinkle, have there been any remote hack attempts?” I whispered.

“No attempts have been made, Sarah.” That was a relief.

“Any new messages?” I continued walking,

“Nothing you’d consider important, Sarah.” Twinkle showed surprisingly good judgement for once. “I have moved them all in your spam folder for later review.”

The crowd of people got thicker. With noon approaching, most of the service staff were rushing to grab a quick bite before it was time for their clients’ lunch break. I myself would have enjoyed a bite if my stomach wasn’t still causing me problems. Instead, I went on with the flow. Before I knew it, I was walking down the same route I always was. Habit had taken over, driving me to the only place I knew: work. I guess it was true what they said—people could also run on autopilot.

A small crowd had gathered in front of my shop when I arrived. With lunch break half an hour away, this wasn’t surprising. What was surprising, however, was the animated sign on the entrance: Closed Temporarily Until Further Notice.

I stared. I had been working here for quite a while, but never before had I seen the store closed during working hours.

“Twinkle, send a message to Jeff,” I said, checking the door. To no surprise, it was locked. “Ask him what’s going on.”

“Done!” Twinkle said, bursting with joy. “You’ve received an automated reply. Jeff is unavailable at this time. Do you want me to send another message?”

Jeff? Unavailable? This was the second thing today that had never happened before.