Like a constellation plucked from the firmament and dragged hundreds of lightyears to be plopped in front of my face - tiny points of light brought close while keeping their size. To feel more complete and to witness embodiments of truth. That was what it was like to be in their presence.

I felt numb, but not from a lack of thoughts or sensation. Quite the opposite. I was feeling so much, my thoughts supercharged. Every ray of light that the orbs cast on my skin felt rich with nourishment. Satisfaction. I felt more alive.

I never wanted to leave their presence and I didn't even know what they wanted yet.

What did they want? To 'help' us? With what exactly?

They didn't elaborate. It became apparent that they were waiting for a response.

West took the initiative, and asked, "What are you?"

Good fucking luck with that. If these are the things in charge of the games, then they're not going to answer any of your questions.

It was ironic how they preferred to keep us in the dark.

I am Photo of the Photon. I am your kin.

Oh. Answers?

Not really. Identifying as 'an image of a light particle' didn't do much in the way of clearing things up.

"Could you explain what that means?" West inquired further. His body floated upside down and a few meters to my right.

Yes. I am light refracted. A wavelength on a spectrum. A derivative of The Oneness that created the universe where I was born. Not this universe, but its antithesis. You are also of The Oneness and of the Photon, but you require help.

Again, there was a lot to unpack. My brain booted up and started the job of interpreting.

Ok. They believe in a god called The Oneness. Or maybe 'Oneness' is a nickname? They identify as light and as children of that god. They claim there are multiple universes-

"I understand. Now when you say we need help, are you referring to the nine of us, the human species, or our planet as a whole?"

Damn, West was fast. I was failing to keep up.

I refer to the intelligent inhabitants of this planet. You were born in the wrong universe and you are being weakened, attacked, divided. Death does not come naturally to the Photon as it does to you.

"And you wanna help us by giving us world peace, right? You wanna stop the humans from killing other humans?"

A facet of the plan, but not the true answer. Darkness obstructs the human potential, and agents of darkness approach the human planet. The Zeiton approach.

There was a complicated sort of agitation accumulating in my mind, and I couldn't pin down where it was coming from. Something was bothering me about this explanation.

"'Zeiton?' Could you explain?" West continued.

They are the forces that guide this empty universe. The cognizant and the ignorant dividends that populate this dangerous realm. You are conquerors in their territory and you will be erased. Soon.

The information was abrupt and difficult to digest. It sounded vital, and I recognized that I wasn't taking it as seriously as I should.

Instead, I continued to rack my brain for what was prodding it.

Meanwhile, the others seemed okay with West leading the discussion. He was managing it well and asking good questions.

"I don't like the sound of that," he said, "You say you wanna help us? How?"

I offer my light to the humans and it must shine on all of them. They will be reborn as Spirits. Photos. Light made eternal.

Before any of us had time to consider the words reverberating through our minds, Brad interjected with, "I don't consent!"

"Brad. Not the time," Addy said in a calmer tone than his usual.

Floating on the opposite side of the bubble of starlight, Brad shook his head, "I'm not being funny here, this is serious. I don't want to be reborn! What does that even mean?"

"Why would you refuse without even knowing?" Addy asked. The edge was coming back into his voice.

"It doesn't sound like the kinda thing I'd be into!"

I have observed humans who romanticize the availability of death. This is the will of the Zeiton, and becoming whole will purge this desire.

"But that's a part of me!" Brad lamented, "Take that away, and I'm not me anymore!"

You cannot visualize a reason to shine into the infinitude. When you are awakened, the path will become as clear as crystal.

Brad readied himself to respond, but West interrupted, clearing his throat.

"May I?" West asked.

Brad shrugged, then nodded.

"I get what Photo is trying to say," West began, "I also get what you are trying to say. I get it, I actually do. What he's saying about finding a purpose? Listen to that. You may not know your purpose yet, but give it time. Everyone finds one eventually."

These are words of light. West has been touched by brightness.

"Ok," Brad said, "Well I'm still not sure about it."

"Just keep quiet and listen, okay?" Addy urged, "God is talking."

I might have backed Addy up, but I had my own beef with the 'light god.' I had finally figured it out - the source of the anger and confusion.

"If I may be blunt," I started, my voice wavering, "What the hell does this have to do with the games you put us through? That was you, right?"

Layla sniggered for no apparent reason.

Light must be magnified, and games will open the aperture. I am an unproven maker of games, and so your presence was required. You will each render a heroic service to The Oneness that binds us.

Photo then went on to describe their wonderful plan of uniting humanity through simulated games. By creating a game that the whole world would enjoy playing or spectating, Photo would gain everyone's attention and goodwill. Photo would then communicate the instructions for converting humans to Spirits and would initiate a worldwide chain reaction.

West's group had participated in one of the 'prototype' games, and our group had participated in four more of them. Photo was currently developing the seventh prototype and needed our input.

I did the arithmetic. It didn't add up.

"Photo, you mentioned five previous prototypes, but you're developing a seventh. Did you forget something?" I asked.

Did the alien god fail to understand something as basic as human number systems?

Kioshi cut in before I could get my answer.

'Doesn't matter. Bad plan. It will fail.'

Prototype one was a failure. The prototypes that followed were more successful, reflecting an increase in knowledge. I begin to comprehend 'play.' In a more brilliant world, I would have crafted nines of prototypes. Execution of the plan would have been flawless. We now lack the privilege of time and must proceed with a lower chance of success.

"How long do we have?" Blaine wondered, and I was surprised to hear him join in.

My light dims but is not cast in shadow. A Zeiton scout draws close and will arrive within the next three hours. They will find true life on this planet and emit a pulse. An army will follow, and a black wave will crash against your shore within two weeks.

...!

Shit.

So not a lot of time. The apocalypse was happening this month. The weight of what was happening and what was being said finally hit me.

It didn't help that a lot of the metaphorical wording was going over my head, but one phrase stuck with me. What was meant by 'true life?' Plants, animals, humans? Intelligent or sentient life? Something else?

Everyone else was visibly spooked by the looming deadline, but West pressed on, "You said you want our help. How can we help?"

Photo explained what they wanted. Not only were we being asked for ideas for prototype seven, but Photo also wanted us to run the prototype. We would have access to parts of Photo's anatomy, including 'gloss', 'lenses', and 'refractors.' I marked this last bit as a bad translation.

I trust you will perform at a higher level than I did. I will be available for any questions that are born during this process.

Then, with a note of finality:

I appreciate your company. I will rejoice in the hour that your entire species becomes one.

The wording was beautiful, and it felt beautiful echoing through my head and the rest of my frame. But after giving it a second thought...

Creepy.

The white film of the surrounding shield and the outlines of the break room began to reappear. A gentle force started tapping the nine of us towards the break room which occupied the bottom hemisphere of the bubble.

West resisted the force, scrabbling and desperately reaching out for one of the eight wisps. The ball of light flew to him and filled the area between his two cupped hands. I saw him hold it close to his mouth and whisper something. Its light cast his pale blonde hair in silver. His eyes glittered like dual fires.

Following that, the mild tug stopped affecting him, and he floated away from the rest of the group. I opened my mouth to cry out for him, but I didn't know what to say. What was he doing?

The satiating energy flowing through my body petered out, leaving my system. It was just as uncomfortable as stepping out of a hot shower. Or being forced to wake up in the middle of a dream. I felt robbed. I wanted it back now.

I extended a hand out, signaling one of the wisps. It danced towards me and I caught it.

Physically, it was nothing but a projection or a hologram. Pure light. My hand passed through it and felt no concrete sensations.

But the abstract sensations were immense. Satisfying, rewarding, almost debilitating. Sensations of light passing over me. Massaging, warming, the muscles un-tensing. A comforting pressure that enveloped me.

The disconnected feeling intensified. Each limb, each organ - heart, brain, skin. I wasn't quite human anymore. Wasn't an individual. Moreso a collection of parts, and also a collection of missing parts. Missing technology. I wasn't entirely complete.

The wisp drifted out of my hand, and the feelings diminished.

No! Come back!

With the earth as my backdrop, I floated. Reaching out with one hand for the star that wasn't a star. Friends and acquaintances floated below me, staring up at the commotion.

It wasn't coming back. It flitted away, joining the cluster of wisps floating around West. I began to fall again, towards the group and the break room.

As if someone had unpaused a video in the middle of an action sequence, all of us suddenly flopped to the floor. Color returned to the walls of the room, accompanied by artificial lighting and a swirling gust of atmosphere that tossed dust, papers, and napkins into the air. There were gasps all around, frenzied and greedy. This puzzled me because I felt no impulse to join in. Why was everyone else so oxygen deprived?

I recalled the moment in the torture bubble when my lungs had virtually reset, emptying all at once. Did that have something to do with it?

Yeah, probably.

Kioshi was the first to his feet, heading tossing side-to-side in a scan. Before the rest of us could finish recovering, he was comfortably seated in the middle of a couch.

Layla bristled, "Ha, that's cute. Move it, bastard. Those two cushions belong-,"

Kioshi gave his head a swift jerk, and a razor blade fell out the side of his gelled black hair. He caught it between two fingers while maintaining unbroken eye contact with the girl.

Layla summarily shut up.

Maisie shimmied between our bodies, moving towards the slowest of us. She offered Teddy a hand in getting up, and he graciously accepted.

Addy moved with haste around the room, scooping two sheets of dirty paper from the floor and slapping them onto the kitchen table. He strode purposefully into the kitchen and retrieved a pen from one of the drawers, clicking the jammer profusely on his way back to the table.

"Well then," Addy said, pulling up a chair, "Shawty P says we gotta make a game. Who's got an idea?"

♦

The fate of humanity was on the line. The continued existence of our species and maybe the planet rested on our ability to make a good sales a pitch. We had to sell humanity a game that was all-inclusive. Something that every culture could enjoy. And what did we settle on?

Dungeons and Dragons.

Brad had made the suggestion. Blaine, Addy, and - to my bewilderment - Teddy Lax had seized on the idea and wouldn't let it go. Though I enjoyed the game myself, I pleaded with them to consider something else. Something that wasn't primarily played by social outcasts.

"It just needs a lick of this thing I call 'rebranding,'" Addy iterated.

Not a great reason, but also hard to argue.

I was losing the battle, and they would eventually need my assistance. After all, I led most of the Dungeons and Dragons campaigns back at our apartment, serving as the resident DM. I was experienced. Game development was one of my areas of expertise.

Even so, we were fucked.

Kioshi sat on the couch, eyes closed. Ignoring us. He had shut the TV off.

Layla and Maise hung back, leaning against countertops. I joined them, leaning against a wall perpendicular to where they stood. From here, I had my first look at the bathroom - a narrow alcove with a toilet and a roll of toilet paper, jutting out from the kitchen. No door for privacy.

"Hey," I said to the girls, berating myself when no other words flowed out.

"Hey, Alec!" Maisie practically beamed, "That was a lot, huh? Holding up ok?"

Again, that compassionate smile. Her hand brushed hair back, tucking it behind her ear. The dirty blond curls instantly escaped the bind, tumbling back into place at her shoulders. She was beautiful, well and truly.

I smiled back and said, "Yeah I'm good. Hey, what do you eat around here?"

"Why? Hungry?"

She moved to the refrigerator and swung the door ajar. Inside were half a dozen sealed containers of soup, three packaged salads, and two plates containing mountains of breadsticks. A turkey sandwich sat alone behind it all.

She giggled and outlined the contents with her hand, like a game show host revealing a prize, "I hope you like Olive Garden! I would totally cook you something if I had access to ingredients."

"There was blackberry lemonade, too, but we drank it," Layla added, "Water for you."

"I'm good. This is good, I mean." Rough start. "Is this the last meal you had before you were brought here?"

"You're not wrong!" Maisie smiled, "How did you know?"

"Similar thing happened to us. Actually, hey, could you tell me more about what happened to your group?"

"Of course! Where do I even begin?"

She didn't get a chance to begin, because, at that moment, West returned to the room, buoyed by wisps and deposited on the floor.

Maisie glided towards him, but he shook his head and held out a hand to stop her advance, "Thank you, Maisie, but I needa talk to Alec, preferably alone."

To me? That didn't make sense. Maybe he got our names mixed up.

I pointed to myself and he nodded.

Ok. What business did he have with me, of all people?

The guys at the table ceased their loud banter and stared. I crossed the room, walking past Maisie, and met him in the corner of the carpeted area. Kioshi's eyes pricked open and a penetrating glare ensued.

"Please. Some privacy is all I ask," West addressed the others before turning his attention to me.

"What's this about?" I asked in a half-whisper, "What was that business with the light creatures?"

"I can't say, because time is short," he said, wearing a sad smile, "But please hear me out. This is important."