Alex Keynes always hated funerals. Even moreso, when the funeral attended was utter bullshit. But it was expected of her to attend, and in truth, might have set off warning signs if she didn’t show.

She sat beside her parents, her step-mother stifling a sob with the back of her hand, her father remaining poised and collected as usual, though he gripped his wife’s arm through the entire memorial service.

The ceremony was held in an old church, and a man named Father Richard conducted the proceedings. Alex had no idea who he was, though her step-mother apparently had some family connection to him, as the two had chatted briefly before the service, mentioning names unfamiliar to Alex.

Her family had never been regular church-goers, but death seemed to bring out the religious in people, and Alex could hardly fault her parents for that.

But they could have at least chosen a more comfortable church.

Despite the crowded room, the sanctuary was freezing the entire service. Of course, it was. The entire hall was made of stone and the pews didn’t even have the courtesy of cushions. And the overly grotesque crucifix statue stared down from the front, as though Christ were peering into her soul, seeing straight through all her lies.

Why do they always have to hold these things in churches? Alex thought repeatedly, as Father Richard droned on about the fleeting nature of the gift of life.

She drew her sweater tighter, wishing she’d worn a parka.

The memorial service naturally concluded with a viewing—the part Alex dreaded the most.

Her parents rose to their feet and embraced before going forward, but Alex hesitated. Guilt and regret ate at her gut as she anticipated the inevitable sight.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come, after all.

A hand on her arm stirred her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find her step-mother gazing down at her with sorrow and sympathy and confusion written all over her face. Their relationship had always been awkward. It happened when your dad remarried your senior in high school.

“You don’t have to look,” she said. “Not if you don’t want to.”

But Alex knew she couldn’t sit back alone like a cold-hearted bitch. So she rose, and both her parents embraced her, and they strode to the front of the hall. A line formed behind them, first of extended family, mostly from her step-mother’s side, as well as her brother’s old friends and roommates and coworkers.

All of them believed he was dead.

Looking at his face all embalmed and peaceful, Alex was half-convinced she was going crazy. She was looking at her brother’s dead body, and yet just last night, she’d spoken to him.

All we are is avatars, she thought. Shells to house our consciousness.

It seemed utterly impossible and terrifying. And yet, here was the proof lying right before her eyes.

Jake Darrow was dead.

But he wasn’t.

And he might be their only hope, if she could only find him again.

A blown up picture of her step-brother’s UW graduation photo was set up on an easel stand beside the casket.

Alex stood back, letting her parents mourn, and tried to remain composed.

What the hell did I get him into?

***

There was a reception after the funeral—with cold sandwiches, and crackers and cheese, and goddamn fruit punch—but Alex wasn’t sure she could bring herself to stay for that part, no matter how guilty she felt. She couldn’t handle the mingling and the hugs and the trite comforts of her brother’s extended family.

And if she saw her step-mother shed one more tear, Alex feared she might not be able to stop herself from shouting the truth at the top of her lungs in front of all the mourners and well-wishers.

The truth…

In all likelihood, her brother was as good as dead anyway. Gunnar dominated the Pantheon streams, his face almost taunting her every time she saw them.

They hadn’t been able to find him in the system since Lex the dawn elf had been killed. And even if they could, she wasn’t sure they could contact him again without drawing suspicion.

A message pinged from Murph, and she took the excuse to sneak away and step out into the cold dreary afternoon in downtown Seattle.

Murph: How much longer?

Alex: It’s my brother’s damn funeral and you want me to hurry?

Murph: Yeah, yeah.

Alex: Dick… you find anything or what?

Murph: Of course, I did.

Alex: Go on…

Murph: Compiled some profiles of some of the other players close to him.

Alex: And?

Murph: Not online. In person. I already told you to hurry.

Her chest pounded. If Murph had a new lead, they might still have a chance before it was too late.

Alex took a bus across the city. The ad screens flashed most of the way with clips from the live-streaming beta of Pantheon Online. The battle in the crypt had been a big hit the past 24 hours, but there was a new Gunnar clip that Alex hadn’t seen yet—her step-brother racing down the streets of Thailen with a nearly naked mermaid slung over his back. Shots fired, and Gunnar dove off a dock into the sea. The screen flashed from action clips to the signature slogan for the game.

Will you be a hero or a villain in the realms of Pantheon?

Either way, you’ll fight for Glory!

The gods are coming May 29!

Interested watchers buzzed with excitement all around the bus. It was the same reaction everywhere she went—it was the first MMO of its kind, after all—but Alex’s gut wrenched every time she saw it. None of them knew.

She was still not sure even she believed it.

Alex nearly sprinted from the bus stop and hurried up the stairs to her apartment. She was panting furiously by the time she reached the third floor. Murph sat hunched over the table, and grinned when she entered.

“What did you find?” she demanded between labored breaths.

Murph slid a folder across the table.

“I found her,” he said.

“Who?”

“The other girl.”

Alex opened the folder and found a headshot of a woman in her late twenties. Auburn hair. Green eyes. Dressed in a uniform of some sort, though it was hard to tell from the shoulders up. Hard jawline, probably athletic, not that Alex knew a lot about any of that. Murph had typed up a page-long profile about her.

“She lives close,” Murph said.

“Wait, she’s not a prisoner?”

“They started with prisoners. But looks like Virtuality opened things up to a few others in the past few weeks. Must come from money. Best I can tell, she’s playing from home. God, I wonder how much one of those pods costs?”

Alex was practically thrumming with anticipation. “Let’s go.”