Snarls and howls of laughter filled the night, mingling with screams of the dead and dying. Christine watched in horror as her mimic, representation of herself as a gnoll, pounced upon a woman bleeding into the sand and devoured her. The gnoll's jaws were powerful. They snapped through bone and tore off flesh with gusto. The iron scent of blood filled her nostrils until Christine could taste it the heat on her tongue, feel the sweet and overpowering flavor of the human's meat as though she were there feasting, not merely a watcher.

"I want to go now," she told the crow. The bird was a program supposed to obey her commands. "Get me out of here."

But the creature had disappeared, left her here all alone with that horrid version of herself.

Even though Christine was supposed to be invisible, her plaintive voice reached her mimic's ears. It paused, its meal yet struggling beneath it, and raised a black muzzle. Their eyes met--the gnoll’s was a piercing gold that shone in the moonlight. It gathered itself, seeing in her not a reflection of itself but another helpless form of prey. Powerful muscles surged forward and Christine had time for one last scream as those powerful jaws latched onto her and pulled her to the ground.

In my bed at the farmhouse, I awoke, heart pounding in my chest so hard I thought it might burst. Slick with sweat and struggling for breath, I jerked my head around. I had no idea where I was or how I'd gotten there for a few moments. Then the knowledge gradually returned to me: I'd returned to my 'Sanctuary,' tucked inside the virtual space but outside the game world. I'd decided to take a nap. As my memories filtered back, I became aware of a pounding on the door.

Heaving myself up from the bed, I stumbled into the front room. At the sight of the wooden, country-style door, I froze. Who could be knocking? The sound was strange, as though something large was rapping a cane against the other side. The last terrifying vision from my dream resurfaced and I feared that the monster had somehow chased me into the waking world or I might still be asleep.

No, not possible. The farmhouse was a safe place, and I was far too lucid to be dreaming.

I shook away my foolish reluctance, threw open the door, and was greeted only by the driving rain.

"Oh, it's a real storm out there," said the crow from my feet. She flapped her wings and flew in, circling the ceiling once before landing atop a bust of Athena over the fireplace. There she puffed and shivered, freeing her glossy black feathers from the water.

She was right. Outside the farmhouse, the storm had gotten closer. I wore only a loose sundress, and the sharp, cold wind slapped against my bare legs. I shoved the door shut again with a thump and idly wiped the spatters of rain from my legs. The call of the storm died down unnaturally. Given the size and somewhat ramshackle nature of the farmhouse, they must have altered how much noise reached the interior.

"Welcome back," I said to my first visitor. She continued preening herself. Had her personality changed in the short time I'd met her? I'd assumed this was a default creation program, but it might be one of the individualized genii. "I didn't catch your name before."

"Corvis," she replied from her perch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks." I crossed my arms and sat on the overstuffed couch. After my meeting with the gnoll me, I'd began shivering uncontrollably and had a panic attack. In my Sanctuary, I'm able to access outside functions and the monitoring software reported spikes in my adrenal levels. This wasn't unusual. Even for someone not there for medical reasons, endocrine responses could be off at first. In deep dive, the human brain struggled to process what it experienced as fiction. No matter how well someone knew what they experienced wasn't real, the first brush with danger tended to fire off extreme psychological reactions.

Different people adapted at different speeds--some never managed. There was even talk about 'Rejection Syndrome,' a new psychological disorder wherein someone body adapted to deep diving well enough, but their mind couldn't process the virtual world correctly.

I'd been told all of this. It was one of a hundred warnings and explanations I'd been given. It didn't help. I'd freaked out and now was having nightmares.

Fun times, fun times.

Corvis gave a polite cough and I remembered she was there. I wondered if she experienced actual annoyance when I ignored her or whether it was simply one of several possible responses used to prod new players along.

"Right, you probably want to move your virtual tour forward and plop me down in the game world."

"Everything has a place," the crow replied, gently. "If you have one in Penumbra, I want to help you find it."

I mumbled something, oddly touched by the program's words. Naturally, I knew that it was scripted, or at least sculpted, to elicit an emotional reaction. But she said it with such sincerity.

"I'd like to take you to a human version of yourself if you don't mind," Corvis continued.

I smiled. "Isn't that what I am now?"

The three-eyed crow shrugged as though it were debatable. Before I had a chance to consider her reaction, the world shifted. We were in a dark cave now, outside was a thick blanket of snow. My breath frosted as it passed my lips.

"The human race's bonuses are in Fortitude and Spirit. To be human is to endure in places that crush the bodies and soul of other races."

A cloaked figure trudged up the mountainside. I could hear the crunch of snow under her fur-lined boots. Her shoulders were down, braced against the cold and rough wind, as she steadily made her way to the entrance. After crossing the threshold, she tugged down the hood that covered her face and I got a good look at her. It was me again, but superhero me. She stood tall and straight, her face strong, and her eyes clear and focused.

"Humans in Penumbra are not the jack-of-all-trades you may be used to," Corvis continued to narrate, "but they have spread themselves far and wide. This is not only to their indomitable nature, but their deep relationship with their gods. While all races deal with spirits, humanity is unique in its level of devotion and the power of its religions."

Supergirl me knelt in the darkness of the cave, her hand touched a talisman around her neck and a golden, radiant light filled the room, pushing back the shadows. A hiss echoed from within the cave and something slithered near the edges, unhappy with super-me's actions. A dark form rose, its eyes glowing with red and malevolent light. It was tall with elongated legs and arms, two horns rose from its forehead while a long tail whipped behind it. I'd call it skeletal, but its body was covered in an impossibly black and leathery skin, as though it has been dipped in oil.

My counterpart was unmoved. She drew her long sword, resolve clear on her face, and moved to meet the creature. It screeched, a sound no man or animal could make, and opened a mouth filled with needles. The woman didn't flinch. In her hands, the blade began to shine with blue light, and she lunged forward. The creature skittered back, warily.

I watched as they battled. The creature had far more reach and moved with great speed. It leapt about, attacking in a fury and then darting back. Through it all, the other me remained calm and composed, keeping to a simple defense and slowly moving towards the creature. The touch of her blade burned its skin, something it wasn't prepared for. I wondered if it were immune to regular weapons.

Though it all, Corvis continued to speak: "True to its name, Penumbra is filled with shadows. The struggle for life is not merely against the environment or one another, but against forces of darkness and chaos that lurk at the edges of the world and slither in through the cracks. The human race is old. Its pacts with the gods have endured through many invasions from the beyond. Whatever nightmares threaten, whatever terrors await, humanity stands ready."

The creature made another mad rush towards the fighter. From its mouth came a stream of unholy sounds that caused my blood to chill. The sword met its advance, thrusting deep into its chest and out the other side. Other me's eyes glowed, and the monster yelled in pain as the blade within it burst into white and blue flame. The light was intense enough that I could see the network of capillaries running beneath its skin before cleansing fire surged out, burning its torso to white ash.

It fell with a thump. Two thumps, actually. Human me wiped the white ash from her sword before sliding it back into the scabbard at her belt. Again, she bowed her head, touching her talisman in prayer.

As she left, the world faded, and I was returned to my farmhouse. Corvis awaited me on the bust of Athena. I recalled Athena's bird was an owl, not a crow. Crows were associated with Apollo.

"That was nice," I finally said. "I don't want to play a human, but it was very inspiring."

The crow bobbed her head, as though she'd anticipated my response. "But do you feel better?"

It was strange, I did feel better. My encounter with gnoll me had me unnerved. It was deeper than simply a spike of adrenaline my body couldn't handle. These weren't simply reflections of what I could be in Penumbra, but aspects of myself. No matter how ugly and different the gnoll had been, I'd felt a kinship with it. And I didn't like that one bit.

"Did you do that simply to make me feel better?" I asked, pushing the thoughts away. It had worked.

"Humans are our most popular race," Corvis answered. "I show them to everyone. I'd be remiss in my duties if I did otherwise. Usually, I get people on the third try, but it was a long shot with you."

I wondered if that was due to the damage happening in my brain. For a second, I recalled the enhanced images they'd shown me. A small parasite cluster, about the size of a coin buried deep within my gray matter and hundreds of microscopic lines like the finest capellini, threaded through my brain. Nausea settled in my stomach as I thought about it.

"I just want to escape," I admitted, my hands fluttered in distress. It felt weird opening myself up to a character creation program. "I don't want to endure hardships. Enduring hardships sucks. I'm not a monster, but being noble and heroic for others doesn't interest me. I don't want to lazy around either. I want some challenge and some fun."

She looked down at me from her stony perch, her gaze intense and inscrutable. I felt the weight of her eyes on me and sensed the vast and intelligent machine churning behind the image of a simple bird. No, there was an invisible giant staring at me. I took a reflexive step back.

"How about..." she began as the room faded away.

I found myself in a city at night. The air was filled with the scent of roasted meats, beer, and saltwater. Laughter and music spilled from a small shop were groups crowded around tables, talking and drinking. I peered in with interest. Crowded within were a number of different races. I saw meaty orcs, short and slender lizard people, plump humans, dwarves or maybe bearded halflings... I wondered why Corvis hadn't started me with a group scene. That made more sense than taking me through race selection one by one.

Corvis flew in and landed in the low wooden rafters. "As you may have picked up, the main attributes are Might, Finesse, Fortitude, Perception, Astuteness, Spirit, and Charisma. Each basic race receives a bonus in two attributes."

"Does that mean there are twenty-one basic races?"

"...no." I caught the hesitation in her voice. "At least, not at this time."

I nodded in understanding. Patching was a thing. Adding new races and classes helped expand the content. "What about the advanced and exotic races?"

Corvis jerked her bill towards a giant figure in the corner. He took up most of the table and seemed so large I wondered how he'd fit through the door. "Your account doesn't have an advanced or exotic race unlocked, so you are limited to the basic races. Advanced races come with a number of bonuses but also penalties. Exotic races are often highly unusual or not even races. Experiencing the game with them is very different from the base experience, and we've limited it as we continue to test."

"Can I be a dragon?" I asked.

"No one can be a dragon. At the moment."

"It's a possibility for the future?" I asked with interest. That would be very different. What sort of quests would you fulfill? How would classes and equipment interact with a dragon growing in power? They might have a completely different leveling system.

"I don't know. I don't have access to that information. I'm simply a character creation program."

I favored her with a smirk. Corvis wasn't 'simply' a character creation program. That much was clear.

Once again, I didn't exist. No one acknowledged me as I slipped my way from table to table, staring at faces and trying to get a feel for the available offerings.

"What's this?" I asked about a slim and dark figure, hovering near the corner. Her skin was dark blue, her ears pointed, the bridge of her nose flattened in a way that reminded me of a cat. When the light hit her eyes, they shimmered for a second. Raised scars lined her face in an intricate design.

"That's an elf," Corvis said as she joined me. "We have several flavors of elves. This is a Fanaal, or pale elf. Their ancestors were forced from the fae burrows during the last cataclysm. They had to survive on the blighted surface for hundreds of years. They're also called the Forsaken by other elven races."

"She's not pale," I replied, pointing out the obvious. Her skin was dark cobalt.

"The Pale is their term for the surface during the last cataclysm. Fanaal is their chosen name. Not something bestowed upon them by others. Their bonuses are to Finesse and Perception. They are a dexterous race, ever alert to possible danger. They have an uneasy relationship with other races. Gnolls, orken, and kobolds are hated and feared by some, but it's not as bad as that. Fanaal are considered a peculiar people and other elves distrust them."

"Why?"

"Elves have long lives and long memories. Having your own kin toss you out into the cold stings. Some of them are bitter and use what power they can to strike out at their cousins."

This close, I could see the way the Fanaal woman's vision danced over the crowd. There was tension in her body that never left. Her fingers darted to something hidden on her person, a weapon I presume, as though reassuring herself it was yet there. There was an edge, a deadliness to her, and it drew me in.

"I'd think I'd like to try a pale elf," I said.

Corvis hopped closer, peering so close to the Fanaal's face she could have pecked it. "Are you sure? This can be a fun race to play but there are others to enjoy."

"It's not a dragon," I replied, "but I like how mopey their background is. Call me shallow, but I bet I look good when I sulk as a Fanaal."

This earned me a crackling chuckle. "A city urchin. Having to survive on the streets with your wits and your talents."

"I like that. Parents can be dead or they abandoned me. Oh, they disappeared and never returned. I fear I'll never learn what happened to them."

"Yes," Corvis added. "They left you with a woman they trusted and a small fund. She spent it all and then tossed you into the streets. You took up with a roving gang of other children and have been making your way since then. You're young but you're sharp, and you know the back alleys of this city like no other."

"What city is this?" I asked.

"Brekinhiem--the jewel of the North."