Rowan found his body floating in a sea of clouds under a dark-blue evening sky. A blanket of fatigue pressed down on his chest and constrained his limbs, allowing for less than minute jerks and twitches of his fingers and toes. He felt as if he could fall asleep after every breath of wintry air, but a prickling sensation sprinkled on his face kept his eyelids open and his mind from sinking back into a peaceful slumber. The first stars were appearing overhead as he drifted into the horizon.

Is this the afterlife? I’m in Hell, aren’t I?

It this was Hell, it was oddly peaceful and serenely painless. Comforting, even. He had imagined the person known as Rowan Black was destined for fiery depths and a personalized eternal torment for all the suffering he’d caused over the last few years. From the coldness Mother and Father had endured to the day of chaos at Westwind High, It was all Rowan Black’s doing out of his free will. Even if he’d been brainwashed by those implants, it was still his actions—mostly. The real life gods were clearly not the forgiving kind like in that game…

Aeon Chronicles Online. The name had escaped him for too many heartbeats.

Gabrielle was going to carry on by herself and build up a dark continent without the support his Undead. Would she miss him? Or would she move on, only caring about the loss of his cracked amulet? Part of him hoped she was devastated, and another wished her to forget about Rowan Black for better or worse. Maybe she’d mourn, and maybe she’d come to the funeral and give a few words. It’d be quite the eulogy. Her phantom, cutesy voice tickled his ear canals, ‘Ahh… I didn’t know Rowan for long. He was mean and really grouchy at first, but then he was nicer. Hmmmm… he also liked to spank me. Yup, that’s all.’

Laughter boomed into the heavens above, and the stars shined brighter while Rowan’s glee echoed from all directions. One star, brighter than the rest, twinkled and spun till it grew to the size of a coin held at an arm’s length. Its rays intensified, beaming and pulsating until Rowan could withstand it no longer. The surface layers of his skin heated to an uncomfortable degree. He couldn’t advert gaze; his body was defying commands.

Is this the beginning of my torment?

The star exploded and filled the heavens with white light, a beam of condensed energy striking Rowan in the forehead. He yelped as the familiar aching sensation of a hypercharged information download pushed outward from within his skull. First, it came as a drop of knowledge—he wasn’t dead. Then the floodgates opened. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he screamed through gritted teeth. In three-quarters of a second, he knew what was happening.

This was another one of Roth’s bloody simulations for medical purposes. The asshole was too lazy to explain with his God-given mouth, so he re-purposed the pods’ direct information transfer technology to explain for him. The idea had sprung while Rowan had more or less recovered, and Roth volunteered him for this experiment. It worked flawlessly and also helped confirm Roth’s theory on why Rowan collapsed.

It was because of the time compression, and the effect it had on the implants. A ten-fold compression meant the brain needed to processes ten times more sensory data; the implants couldn’t handle so much bio-electricity. Roth had miscalculated the implants’ capacity, and it just so happened that Rowan had been logged in for roughly twenty minutes too long. The implants overheated and ruptured many nearby blood vessels. It made perfect sense.

As a result, the game’s time compression was to be reduced. There was no other alternative other than finding a replacement Rowan, which was off the table. Fortunately, the ten-to-one compression was a long-time issue that plagued alpha and beta feedback. Many players felt it was too extreme and burdensome to schedule around. Often times, raiders would call it a night, and they’d find the battle had long been won or lost the next morning. Even when leaving for lunch or dinner could result in missing out on up to twenty hours of in-game events.

Albeit, more casual players felt they needed more than a ten-to-one compression. The technology added hundreds of extra hours of gaming to their packed weekly schedules. Plus, not everything had to be game-related when there was an in-game browser. They could also do other activities such as catching up on paperwork or binge-watching ten movies in a row.

All-in-all, it was a tricky balance with daily heated debates roaring both in-game and in the forums, but the overall feedback indicated a reduction was probably needed for the game’s launch. Now was a good time to test such a change.

Combined with the recent development of player World Bosses, an offline maintenance period was suitable for while Synaptic analyzed the game with help of the AI. Extensive system and balance changes were expected for this impromptu ‘final phase of beta’. The pods were also receiving software updates to improve health monitoring systems, and the AI now had an explicit directive to monitor a player health and regularly report to Synaptic and players. Rowan agreed on all counts—though any nerfs to him or his Gabrielle weren’t welcome, thank you.

Oh, the hearing with the psychiatric board in the coming weeks had been retroactively held yesterday. The bloody mess had caused quite a commotion in the ward and adjoining hospital, enough for many hospital workers to begin pressing questions. Questions which Roth did not want to be answered. He’d pulled some more strings through that all-encompassing secret society. The board members were either part of said society or paid off, and poof, Rowan was a free eighteen-year-old.

Well, as free as he could be with that contract still in effect. He was to proceed to the safe house if Synaptic confirmed the leaker’s story in case the playerbase resoundingly rejected player World Bosses other than him and Gabrielle. A smart, flexible change of plans, Rowan had to admit.

A dialog appeared.

Exiting simulation. Please hold.

The star’s radiance faded, and every other pinpoint dimmed as well, followed by the clouds and sky and the world itself, fading out as if he were logging out of Aeon Chronicles. He breathed a sigh of relief. That download was real. And he hadn’t been sent to Hell. Thank Draesear.

Momentarily faded-in the inside of a hospital room similar to the one he’d been in two years ago. White walls, white sheets, white curtains, and Roth’s white coat greeted him in such a mundane way. A helmet-like device in hand, the brainwashing doctor was looking down at him with a flaccid or masked expression behind those rimmed spectacles. His society’s logo was there as usual.

Roth placed the helmet next to a medical automaton with a domed top, then picked up a cup by a pitcher. “Water?”

Rowan hesitated before accepting. “Thanks,” he said through a hoarse throat and slowly sipped, weighing options to approach this conversation.

It was best to remain cordial—and ignorant. Roth didn’t appear suspicious of Draesear’s tampering and Rowan’s subsequent personality changes. The taunting god had said they’d been in a protected unobservable bubble during the class-change ritual. By pure speculation, it might’ve also done something to obfuscate henceforth memories. After all, it was an advance AI running on a billion-credit quantum supercomputer.

Rowan emptied the cup, scrunched it with tired muscles, and flung it into the bin at the far corner. His aim was still good.

“The direct transfer operation was a success, I assume?” Roth’s gray brow arched.

“Yeah. Implants overloaded, maintenance, and retroactive hearing. Is that all?”

Roth clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Undoubtedly excellent.” He picked up a clipboard and pen. “Apologies for the rush, but I do have other patients to tend to.” He gestured to the cabinet at the side. “Your clothes are in there, and your other possessions will be shipped to the safe house within the week. Your driver, who happens to be your handler and point of direct communication to us, is waiting for you in the lobby. Look for a purple hat and black coat. Questions?”

Blinking, Rowan held back amazement, then inwardly smirked. It looked like Draesear had bested this old geezer. “Not that I can think of now.”

“Very good.” Roth checked a machine connected to one of the head sensors. “I do—”

A thought popped, and Rowan blurted, “Does the house have a pod in it? What about food and stuff?”

Roth chuckled. “Everything has been taken care of. We are not incompetent.” He emphasized that last part with a hint of antipathy. “As I was saying. There are some conditions to your early release and continued accommodation…” He scribbled a few final lines and put down the clipboard.

Tensing for the worst, Rowan held a neutral gaze against Roth’s darkening facade. “Yeah? What?”

“Although it needs not be said, I feel it is best we are clear as it was not in the written agreement.” He took an audible breath, facial muscles compressing for a second. “You are not to leave the premise of the property until the mission is over, and more importantly, you are not to cause any trouble such as unnecessary murders like the one two years ago. Do you understand?”

The ‘unnecessary’ murder two years ago was debatable, but Rowan heard what he meant clearly. He was on a tight leash. “I understand.”

Roth’s demeanor relaxed by a small measure. “That’s reassuring because I would hate to cover up a trail of bodies, especially if one was my second-niece.” He smiled maliciously, and Rowan couldn’t hide his surprise at the turn of the conversation. “Although we may not care for the unwashed masses, we do value our own. She is a Roth, and one Roth is more valuable than a thousand Blacks put together.”

What a shithead. Rowan’s face contorted painfully. He spat with barely suppressed hatred and sarcasm, “Yeah, I get it, Doctor Roth.” How could a fucker like this be Gabrielle’s family? They were nothing alike.

“Very good, Rowan. Very good.”

He peeled off the sensors one by one, too slowly, and Rowan restrained himself from punching those damned spectacles with every last drop of willpower in his blood. He could likely get away with it, seeing as how their plan was riding on Rowan’s cooperation. But he still held back. For whatever stupid reason, Gabrielle always referred to her Uncle Vincent with such affection. He held back for her sake, not anyone else. At least the old man seemed to care for her in the slightest—in his own twisted way.

The last sensor peeled off Rowan’s chest, and Roth turned after another creepy smile. He said over his shoulder, “Ah, I forgot. Your parents arrived in the lobby twenty minutes ago. They’re expecting you. Down the hall to the right. You’ll see the signs.”

“What? Why are they here?!” Rowan jumped off the bed, sorely landing on his heels on the hard vinyl. “What do I say?” He’d assumed he would have at least weeks if not months to spin an explanation for them.

Not looking back, Roth shrugged. “The commotion, remember? They’re your parents. Think of something.”

“Like what?!”

“Use your brain. You’re not a jellyfish.” He opened the door and strode through, whistling a marching tune.

After growling a curse, Rowan spun into action, flipping off the hospital gown and banging open the cabinet in a single smooth motion. While he dressed in a set of unfamiliar clothes (white sneakers, gray jeans, and a black buttoned shirt), his adrenaline-pumped brain sifted through idea after idea until he arrived a few believable lines. Telling the truth wasn’t a choice; his mother would freak out for sure, and his dad would call the cops. The cops who were more than likely controlled by Roth’s secret society.

Lying was the only option here. He settled on a story which wouldn’t fall apart if Synaptic confirmed the leak and Rowan the hacker was suddenly beamed onto every news channel during dinner. Lies were tricky business. More lies usually needed to be spewed to cover for old lies, and the web of lies needed to be meticulously memorized else a single ember of truth could set it ablaze. Simple honesty would be preferable here—if he had a choice.

He pulled on the socks and stepped into the unexpectedly comfortable sneakers. He flattened the clothing once before heading out, down the hall to the right as Roth said. He’d been down these corridors before. This was the same hospital at Capitol City. His useful parents had gotten lost and traversed at least the entirety of the ground floor, much to his dismay.

A security guard at a checkpoint glanced up from his desk, nodding. Indeed, Roth and his folk were not incompetent. Or maybe the security was laxer here. He’d gotten too used to the psychiatric prison.

Ten corridors and two checkpoints later, Rowan arrived at the glass doors leading into the lobby, pausing. Both his parents and the driver were waiting in there. What if the driver opens his mouth like an idiot? Oh well, that was out of his control.

Rowan shook his head and entered the full lobby and scanned the rows. No purple hat and black coat sat among the sick, but his parents were waiting near the front entrance away from the concentration of patients. An auburn haired woman and a lanky man with a goatee. Yup, it was them. A different warmth swelled from the center of his chest. It felt good. Not as good as what he felt for Gabrielle but distantly similar.

Waving, he approached and caught their attention. They stood in an instant.

“Rowan?” his mother said and took his shoulders after extended shaky hesitance. “Where’s Doctor Roth and your escorts?” She looked left and right along with his father. “Does this mean…”

They didn’t know? Damn Roth. “Hey, Mom.” He gave her a fake timid smile. Surprise emerged through her brown eyes. “You didn’t hear? My hearing was moved to yesterday, and they cleared me.”

His father frowned. “It was moved? Why weren’t we informed?”

“I don’t know.” Rowan shrugged. “Maybe because it was on short notice? The ward’s director said there was a series of scheduling mix-ups, and mine got pushed to the front of the queue.” The lies came like smooth honey rolling off his tongue. It was remarkably effortless.

“That doesn’t sound right…” He scratched his chin. “We were supposed to be present as your—”

“I turned eighteen the other day. I’m an adult now.”

He blinked, then laughed a hardy laugh only he could. “I guess you are!”

Yes, this was definitely Rowan’s father. Guilt almost wrapped around his neck for the lies. Almost. He was in complete control. “Yeah, my brain’s more or less normal, and I’m a free man now.” He gave them a wide smile.

Abruptly, his mother gave him a full-body hug. It was smothering. And hot. Too hot. She smelled of salt water and sea life as if she’d just gotten out of an aquarium—which was probably the case. His parents had just gotten off from work early. Through the windows, the summer sun shone at a lowish angle. Either three or four in the afternoon.

How long had he been out? It couldn’t have been more than twenty-four hours. Either it’d been less than an hour or almost a whole day had passed. If the latter was true, he had to get back into the game ASAP. Gabrielle would be waiting for him, his sexy beautiful general. There was no time for pointless small talk.

“Rowan?” His mother’s fingers snapped in his eyes. “Earth to Rowan.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“What happened? Why were you transferred here?”

The lies kept coming as if it were his day job. Well, a quarter-lie this time. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. The board wanted a final tuning on my remaining implants just in case. Roth said it was a risk because less than twenty percent remained, but they insisted, so we went here for his specialized equipment. Didn’t want to take the risk, you know? It ended up causing a minor hemorrhage, and I blacked out. I’m fine now.”

That earned him another salty, seaweed-smelling hug. “Oh, that no good board!”

His father glowered at the corner of his eye. “Maybe I should file an official complaint.”

And that was the opportune moment which allowed Rowan activate his plan to get the hell out of here. They were so clingy and overprotective. Sure, he was saner thanks to Draesear, but he was no longer the wimp they knew two years ago. This was a different Rowan. Aeon Chronicles was waiting. “Nah, it’s fine. I already got a full apology—and a massive monetary compensation. Fifty thousand credits.” That was two months of what Roth was paying, so there was some truth in it.

“Whoah!” His father backstepped. “For real?”

“Yeah.” Rowan smirked.

“That’s pretty good,” his mother said, returning the smirk. “It’s about what a Marine Biologist makes in seven months, if you’re wondering.”

She didn’t have to remind him. They’d always ranted about how underpaid they were for scientists while the fat executives at the top made billions. “I think I recall.”

His dad laughed and ruffled Rowan’s hair as if he were eleven again. “What are you going to do with the money? Investment? Or are you going down the higher education route?” The latter suggestion reeked with a heavy implication of hardship and pain. It was warranted. One needed over a decade of higher education to get a job in a related field. Most just lived off UBI and did whatever they felt like all day every week.

Rowan feigned nervousness, taking a massive breath and straightening his back. “I’ve already been accepted into Capitol College for a conjoint in Automation and—”

“Wow! Automation and Artificial Intelligence!” his mother exclaimed. “That’s amazing. I knew you had it in you. You’re going to be rich one day.”

“Yes, those teachers in the ward were really good.” He waved them off as they were about to say more. “I’m going to get an apartment. Going to go check out a place across the city right now, in fact. I already called a friend I met in the ward who lives nearby for a ride.”

“Whoah whoah whoah, Row.” His father whistled. “What’s with the rush? When did you have time to organize all this?”

Arrgh. Damn him. Rowan fidgeted on his toes. “Just then. There was a phone in the room.”

His mother abruptly paled. “You… You called someone you met… from the… the psyche ward?”

Ugh. So they were going to be difficult. Part of him was tempted to just look for the guy in the purple hat and leave his parents hanging. Why did they have to be so smothering? It was his bloody life. He was a bloody adult now. “Yes. In the psyche ward. And why not now? My first classes start soon.”

“But you just got out of the hospital.”

“Are you sure this person is completely sane?”

Rowan silently groaned, and as if on queue, a purple fedora on top of a black trench coat walked through the glare-magnifying, glass double-doors. It was time to elope with this… young woman. She had gorgeous blue eyes the size of tennis balls and a figure so divine that he could tackle—

Gabrielle!

As Rowan sucked in a lungful of fresh street air that blew in, his heart exploded with that incredible fuzzy warmth, thumping against his chest so hard that his ribcage vibrated. It was really her. The cute facial features were unmistakable. He didn’t recognize her with hair tied up into a bun like that. How stupid of him!

Her eyes wandered here and there before drifting to him. She flashed a mouthful of perfect teeth identical to her in-game character’s. “Heya, Rowan!” Her eyes snapped to his parents. She pointed. “Huh? Who are they? They’re not kidnappers, are they?”

Yes. It was her. No one else. Only she could say something like that. It didn’t matter if her quirkiness only made the situation worse. Rowan’s life was now complete.