After I vanished from the theatre, I found myself walking many long halls browsing the dozens of body choices for my new avatar. It really felt like a video game, just virtual reality. Each body lay in an open, standing capsule, with closed eyes and their birthday suit on full display… I kept my eyes on the upper torso and head, as the last thing a guy like me wanted was to see such a vast array of sausages on full display.

The races proved varied. From Vampires to Sylvan to even Orcs or things called Blighters, they came in every color under the sun and ranged from small bean sprout shrimpy guys to large and buff macho men with red skin and blazing horns.

“So… just out of curiosity, could I have a female avatar?” I asked, a little curious; what guy wouldn’t be?

“The biological sex of your birth cannot be changed even through Babel’s avatar system. The specifics are classified, but it creates a dangerous physiological incompatibility that will result in eventual death. You may, with sufficient funding, convert your avatar to be indistinguishable from the opposite sex.”

“Noted…” I paused for a bit, curious about something but ashamed to ask.

“Yes, every avatar contains full reproductive capability. It is not uncommon for Players to have many children.”

My cheeks burned a touch at having been found out. “So then, can Players modify their bodies here?”

“No, these are pre-assembled and are not fit for modification till attached to a Player. You may modify it to your specifications after arriving in Babel.”

“Okay. Any… suggestions? What’s the most OP race?” I asked.

“Every race possesses its benefits and detriments.”

“Like Vampires would be strong but require blood and are bad with garlic?” I guessed.

“Correct, save for the garlic.”

“Okay…” I continued walking, now looking over some of the stranger races. Mermen with green skin and webbed feet and large ears; Sylphs with their effeminate beauty and long ears; Fauns with their deer legs and antlers; Mist Walkers- “Oh!” I stopped at that, looking at a somewhat normal looking human male with paler skin than normal, a good athletic build, and not too tall or short. But what really caught my eyes was the hair and eyes… both were hallowed silver, as if every strand and pigment had been plucked out of molten silver. The hair ended near the neck, excellent for sporting a small Victorian ponytail. He was good looking too; at least from what I could tell.

“What’s a Mist Walker?”

“Distantly related to the Shadow Walker race, who themselves are distantly related to the Vampire race. Mist Walkers are known for their stealth skills and ability to disseminate into mist when required. This avatar…” she said, but quieted as if thinking.

“This avatar-?”

“The origin data is corrupted. It is likely an older model whose entry was damaged in transit… though that in itself is unusual. I will investigate the archives.”

“Does that mean this is a bad choice?” I asked, giving it a closer look over. Good tone. Dashing, smooth features. Definitely could be on the cover of some magazine somewhere. And, feeling a bit dirty, I looked down to check his package… I was satisfied that it wouldn’t be embarrassing if it ever had a use, at least.

My gut instinct wanted to choose it, but as a gamer, I knew to judge all my options first. “Put this in the favorites list.”

“There is no such list, however, I shall make a note of reference concerning your preference.”

“That works too.”

I continued to wander the halls, looking over my options and getting info on each. By the end I completely forgot that my status was little more than a convenient prisoner choosing his jumpsuit of preference.

Finally, my arms crossed and my eyes scanned the three finals. “Now which one…”

Before me lay a Cu-Sith, Gancanagh, and Mist Walker. Cu-Sith happened to be a dog-eared race with large, bulky features that would intimidate anyone; overall, just an awesome macho pick. Gancanagh meanwhile were a Fae race of pretty boys that would make casanovas cry in jealousy… I could definitely get some ‘action’ if I chose it. Lastly, the Mist Walker was just somewhere in between cool and playboy, holding a weird allure that ignited the chuunibyou side of me.

As I gave them each another scan, I kept ending with my eyes on the Mist Walker. “Are Mist Walkers rare?”

“They are.”

“How rare?”

“This is the sole Mist Walker presently in stock. Records indicate it has been seventy years since the last Mist Walker was issued to a Player. This avatar was likely created at the same time,” she said, earning a cocked eyebrow from me. That sounded odd, considering this would definitely be a first pick for many guys. Why was it still here?

“How many new Players have shown up in that time?”

“Twenty-seven thousand three hundred and nine.” As if reading my mind, she answered, “The stock is randomly available based on the Player. Based on perceived age, this avatar should have been chosen even within a random pool. It is indeed unusual to still be available.”

“Then… as long as it’s still good, I’ll take it.” I wasn’t about to let such a gem of an avatar escape me.

“Scans indicate there are no abnormal physiological attributes. As such, this is a viable option,” she said as the Cu-Sith and Gancanagh vanished, leaving only the Mist Walker behind. “You will now experience the feeling of being submerged in liquid. To lower the chance of complications, do not attempt to swim or flail.”

That worried me. “...I’m not going to drown, right?”

“There is no physical threat of death during the binding. The feeling arises due to nerves being connected between your consciousness and the avatar.”

“Noted… okay, let’s go.” I swallowed and steeled myself, the honeymoon of avatar shopping over, and the awareness of my vulnerable situation coming full circle. I just had to trust her at this point. Part of me wanted to ask about possible complications, but my better judgement told me I didn’t want to know.

In an instant, everything splashed away. I could only see black. Ink. My body drowned in a sea of pitch, being pulled down. Instantly I began to swim only to remember her warning and froze, allowing myself to be pulled into the depths of some deathly shadow.

Lungs screamed. My brain told me to survive. Everything warped as up became down, and down became up. Every nerve I had drowned in its own plight and it took every ounce of resolve to stay still.

“Hisss-” sounded in my ears and just as abruptly as I sank, I emerged, my eyes staring up at the glass pod around me. As the glass pod opened, I sat up, feeling the plush fabric against my naked flesh, and the tickle of hair against the back of my neck.

I looked down at myself. Yep. That six pack definitely didn’t belong to me.

“Congratulations. The binding was successful,” the Moderator announced in my head. “Remove yourself from the pod and get dressed.”

Looking around, I spotted a pair of clothes waiting for me next to an open locker. They were basic, just a tshirt, boxes, jeans, and some sneakers. Still, standing and getting dressed felt oddly natural despite everything.

“So, what skills do I have?” I asked, my excitement lacing my voice.

A popup surprised me, nearly sending me tumbling as I balanced on one leg to slip on a sock. In my vision sat a list of skills similar to an RPG skill screen.

Dark Vision (Natural) - T2

Enhanced Vision (Natural) - T1

Enhanced Smell (Natural) - T1

Blood Sucking (Natural) - T1

Blood Scent (Natural) - T1

Mistling (Natural) - T1

Athletics (Natural) - T1

Scanner (Synthetic) - T1

“Oh!” Now I was grinning. “What does Mistling and Scanner do?”

Instead of answering me verbally, she pulled up further popups so I could read them myself. ‘Mistling: Allows dissemination into Mist Form. Scanner: Allows visibility of Babel data on common entities.’

“Please proceed out of the staging area,” she said, raining on my parade. I wanted to snap at her for being a slave driver but bit my tongue instead, obeying. I walked to the only door leading out of the small room and opened it.

My jaw dropped.

Neon lights glinting off silvery windows and flying dragons greeted me. Spiderwebs of walkways and roads teaming with every race imaginable treaded the narrow chasms created by skyscrapers that reached into a dark, diamond-filled night sky. Hovercraft hummed overhead while winged people either hitched a ride on them or flew beside them, vanishing into massive hovering holograms displaying the latest fashion or OP magic item. And encapsulating it all, some giant dome fractaled by the skyline high above me.

I stepped back, laying against the wall while my brain struggled to come to terms with the massive scale of fantasy and science fiction’s lovechild. A million smells danced across my senses; some meaty pasta in a restaurant down the street, the floral perfume of some elf chick walking nearby, freshly applied grease to a hoverbike zipping overhead. And the sounds were no better, hitting me in as much diversity as the people walking by me.

My head began to pound. Somewhere in my chest a wardrummer went on a caffeine-hyped frenzy.

I was vaguely aware of the Moderator saying, “Welcome to Babel.”