《Westward Soul: Duskwood Online》Chapter 1 - Redux

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Samuel looked around at the room. He stood in a wide conference room that had mauve walls. Ten rows of chairs sat spaced out before a raised stage. Each row had twenty chairs. A set of doors sat on either side of the conference room. They appeared to be the only way out. Everyone looked to just as confused as he did. A crowd of people mingled around the open space behind the chairs.

The doors on the right side of the room opened. A group five of people dressed in business casual attire strode up onto the stage. They all took a seat at a table that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before.

"People," one of the women in the group said. "Please take a seat."

"What's going on?" Someone in the crowd shouted. "Where am I?"

"I will get to that," the woman said. "Take a seat so we can get started."

"The hell I will," the same person said, their voice raised into a yell.

"Fine," the woman said. She looked to the others on the stage. They nodded. "Anyone who doesn't want to wait can go through those doors." She pointed to the set her group had come through. "We have people there who can answer any questions you may have."

The crowd of people began to move in small groups. Some splitting off to the doors while others took a spot before the stage. Samuel found a seat in the third row. It wouldn't be the first time he had sat through a pointless presentation. Usually they came with free doughnuts and coffee. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, but he wasn't hungry.

Samuel paused. Now that he really thought about it, he couldn't remember much before he got here, or where this place was. A jolt of panic ran along his spine. The doors to the right were starting to gain appeal.

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The people on stage waited until the last person had gone through the doors.

"Now," the woman who had spoken before said. "I hope to be able to answer the questions you are no doubt beginning to have."

She paused.

"To start, you are dead," the woman said. "Rather, you died and your body was donated to science. This is not Heaven, Hell, or whatever afterlife you prescribe to. Our company purchased your corpse and scanned your brain into our system. There are grief counselors through the door on your right. Please feel free to use them."

The woman paused again. A few people went through the doors. Samuel leaned forward, trying to sneak a look at where the doors led. He didn't see anything. The people who went through it just seemed to disappear as the stepped through.

Panic shifted to anger. There was more going on than they were saying.

"Let me answer a few questions you probably have right now," a man toward the end of the table spoke up. "Due to privacy laws we are unable to tell you how you died. We do have access to the date and the organization where you were processed."

"Some of you are wondering how you are sitting in that chair," another woman different than the first said. "Right now you exist as a residual self-image. To put it simply, this is how you see yourself."

"Our company is one of the leaders in the entertainment industry," the same man said. "We construct and maintain artificial realities."

"We're a videogame company," the first woman said. "You are being given the option to have a second chance at life in one of our games. If this doesn't agree with you, there is another option. Go through the doors to your right and you will forget all of this. You will wake up in a world that will feel completely natural to you. You wouldn't know you're in a game, it would be your life."

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"That's what happened to the people who went through already?" Samuel asked.

The group of people on the stage looked at him. Five pairs of eyes studied him.

"Yes," the woman replied. "It works out better for them this way."

Samuel nodded.

"Does anyone want to take that option?" she asked.

No one moved.

"Wonderful," she said smiling. "Now, through the doors to your left is the interface to get settled into your new world. Any gamers among you will know it as Character Creation. There is an assistant waiting for you if you need assistance."

"One more thing," a woman who hadn't spoken yet said. "You will be compensated for your time. There is also a chance to gain a following of viewers. Complete quests, explore, go on adventures, open a shop, or just live your life. You will earn your pay via task completion and a weekly stipend. There is an in-game market that you can use to purchase special items."

She let the information settle for a moment.

"There is another option for your money," the woman continued. "Our current level of technology has reached the point where an artificial body can be built to specifications. If you want, you can save your money to purchase a body. It is no small feat. The cheapest model is one point nine million dollars."

A portion of the floor in front of the stage split open. Ten humanoid figures rose into view. They varied from what looked like a metallic scarecrow to a person.

"The cheapest model is the Stick Figure," the woman said. "I shouldn't have to explain why people call it that."

"How are we supposed to earn two million dollars?" Someone from the crowd asked.

"Like I said," the woman replied. "You will earn money per task, and it is possible to receive donations from viewers. There are more details available once you're settled."

Samuel didn't wait for more. He headed for the doors to the left. They opened onto a room, unlike the ones on the other side. A woman dressed in blue scrubs stood near something that looked like a scale. The woman looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. He took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

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