The steamy fog cleared. The Slime King stared back at them with its solitary eyeball. It looked no worse for having taken a [Firebomb] head-on.

“Impossible,” said Claire.

“It’s completely fine,” stated Sakura, obviously.

Edge knew it was bad luck.

“Daphne!” Belladonna shrieked.

The [Firebomb] missed a single tentacles. Daphne tried to call out for help, but no one heard her through the fog? Not even when the Slime King pulled her inside of its main mass. The jelly surrounded her with the consistency of thick water. She held her breath, looking out at her friends, at Edge . . . She could see his lips moving, probably handing out orders, probably trying to save her. He was surprisingly handsome when he had that serious look on his face. She wondered what colour his hair really was, in real life . . .

“Claire, I’ll boost you. Slice a hole as close as you can get to that eye.” Edge wrapped his fingers together, putting every ounce of strength into saber tossing Claire into the air behind him as she stepped on his hands and was subsequently launched. It was high enough. Claire [Slash]ed with all her considerable might, ripping into the slime. “Bell. Fire!” he ordered.

The arrow spun through the air toward the oozing gash. Belladonna watched it in slow motion, but all she could see was Daphne struggling inside, releasing her final breath as green bubbles in the translucent slime. Her arrow was right on target. She couldn’t have fired a better shot. She put everything she had into that shot. Everything. The arrow sliced into the jelly, piercing the gap and penetrating the ooze. It stopped short, within a hair's breadth from stabbing the eye.

Edge stared into the cat eyes of the orange Kiten. It didn’t matter that Daphne looked less than human. The fear in her eyes was completely human, completely real. There was no time left for a second try, nothing left for him to do. But to watch her die.

The universe paused. It was as if he was trapped in his own body. He couldn’t move, and nothing moved around him. A tingling sensation began in his toes, travelling up his legs, and through his torso. Was this it then?

He was in a cherry orchard. The tingling sensation from the teleport was still fading. Cherry blossoms fell from the sky like slow rain. This was the character creation area. Did he die then? Was this where you went to die in Levia?

A humongous widescreen popup window appeared floating in the air in front of him. A line flashed across the screen like an old television set. The blurry scene of a courtroom panned across the window. The people in the room were silently staring back at him.

“Eugene Smith,” said the Judge, seated behind his podium.

They could see him. People from the outside world could see him. He didn’t even care that he was only wearing his rogue shorts. Did this mean that dying wasn’t the end after all. A spark of hope for Daphne ignited in his chest. “Uh, hey,” he said, without knowing what to say.

“Can you see and hear us?” asked the Judge.

“Yes.” Edge saw his mom sitting behind a long table, next to a man in a fancy suit. His eyes lit up. “Mom,” he said. Their relationship hadn’t been perfect, but she was his mom. She suddenly burst into tears, burying her face into a handkerchief. The silence in the courtroom was drastically uncomfortable.

“Eugene,” began the judge, solemnly, “we need to ask you some questions, son. Some may be quite difficult. Do you feel up to answering them?”

He was half naked, slime coated and had sand stuck in unpleasant crevices, but he didn’t see why not. Something was wrong, he knew. The mood was too morbid . . . He nodded, thoughtfully.

“What is the last thing you remember before entering the game?”

“Um, I was in the living room, at home.”

“Good. What were you doing, exactly?”

“I was trying on the VR-01,” Eugene replied, impatiently. “Look, are you guys trying to get us out of here? Have you found a way to bring us home?”

“I’m afraid not, my son. Please bare with me, for just a few more questions.”

Was there no way out then? Daphne was still frozen, dying inside the Slime King . . .

“Do you know the woman in the navy blouse?” The judge pointed at his mom.

“Of course I do, that’s my mom.” What was going on here?

“What about your memory, do you remember your childhood?”

Was the VR-01 malfunctioning, turning people into vegetables? “Yes, I can remember everything fine. I mean, as well as I’ve always been able to.”

The judge nodded as though that was the answer he expected. “Very well. That will be all for now.”

“Wait. We need help. People are dying, help us, please-” A red [MUTE] icon appeared in the lower left hand corner of the viewscreen. They couldn’t hear him.

“It is this court’s judgement that all digital rights to humanized databanks shall be retained by the owners, from which the copies were made. Ownership of the databanks is non-transferable, except in the cases of special circumstances listed in section 103, subsection C. Obviously, any future use of these databanks requires the consent of their owners. Previous contractual arrangements are void, and must now follow the guidelines set out in section 22 and section 24 of the Human Data Act. I hereby order that the Levia Codex project be suspended, until such a time as it again complies with the act.” His gavel came down hard, and the packed courtroom began to empty with hushed conversation.

“Hello, can anyone hear me?” The screen flickered and went dark. What did he just witness? Levia suspended . . . It was gibberish.

A few minutes passed before the screen flickered back to life, and a camera was being adjusted by a man in a lab coat, who stepped aside to reveal a rectangular table. His mother and the man in the suit sat on one side, while a larger balding business man sat opposite them.

“Testing, testing. Can you hear us?” said the male voice attached to the lab coat.

“Yes, I can,” he replied. Mom was wearing a different colour dress, and her hair had changed.

“Eugene, I love you,” shouted Mom, through the screen. Eugene winced at the volume.

“I love you too, Mom,” he said at a more reasonable level, and with a hint of embarrassment.

“I think we should get the hard part over with Susan,” said the Lawyer next to her. Mom nodded gravely. The Lawyer took charge. “Eugene, I’m Dave, your mother’s attorney. And this gentleman is Mr. Brawvi, the CEO of VR-01. I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s hard news, so brace yourself. You are not Eugene Smith.”

What?

“The VR-01 was never a virtual reality simulator meant to interact with the human brain. I’m told that such technology is vastly beyond us, likely impossible all together. Thanks to some clever verbiage,” Dave glanced at Mr. Brawvi, “the VR-01 corporation misrepresented their product. It was never meant to allow Eugene Smith to play a game; it was made to copy Eugene’s brain patterns, exactly, and to then input that pattern into a digital environment . . .”

So . . . he wasn’t the real Eugene. He was some kind of copy? And the courtroom proceedings were what, deciding his fate, their fates, somehow?

“You might be wondering, why you, and none of the other Levians have been called upon to testify, or to commune with us . . .” Dave tried not to look at Mom, though she was clearly upset by the monologue. “Eugene Smith, tragically, took his own life, shortly after the VR-01 proved to be non-functional. He didn’t know the device’s true function. No one did at first . . .”

Edge went to that dark place inside. He reached for those old feelings, touching the absent scars across his arm. He killed himself? What was he supposed to say . . . this was worse than anything imaginable. He wasn’t even a real person. He was some kind of computer program. A fake. He had gotten better. He had friends now, people he trusted . . . He didn’t want to die anymore. He was better. Levia was his second chance, a chance to change. Edge stood in front of the screen without words to say. No wonder his Mom was so sad, and so confused. He had done this to her. He was still hurting her, still holding her back.

“Perhaps, we should get down to business,” offered the impatient Mr. Brawvi.

“I think we should give Susan a moment in private with her . . . with Eugene, before we begin, don’t you think Mr. Brawvi.”

Mr. Brawvi tapped his finger on the glass table, obviously contemplating his options. “Five minutes,” he stated, getting up from the table, and motioning at the off camera lab coat to accompany him out.

Dave the lawyer closed the door on his way out. “I’m sorry Susan. We’ll get you two more time later.”

“Eugene, I’m so sorry,” Mom started, already crying into a handkerchief.

What was she so sorry for? He was the one who . . . She blamed herself, he realized. “It’s not your fault, Mom.”

“I should have been home more. I should have been there to take care of you.”

He wanted that. It would have made a difference, maybe. But how did he tell her that it still didn’t make it her fault. “Mom, it’s not over. I’m not . . . gone. It was me. I was in a bad place. It wasn’t your fault.” Should he tell her about the bullies at school, or the knife marks on his arms, or the constant stranger he’d let himself become? She kept on crying, and it didn’t look like she had plans to stop. This was how they were going to spend their five minutes. In Levia, he learned that even if you only have five minutes left that you can make the most of it. You can still change the way things were going to turn out. “I . . .” He started, not really sure what he was saying or planning to say “. . . I made friends, Mom. A whole group of weird girls.” Mom seemed to stop blubbering. Maybe all his practice on Daphne had helped make him better at cheering people up.

“I know. Everyone knows,” she half chuckled, dabbing at her cheeks. “You’re so brave, Eugene. When I saw you on the television, I thought I was hallucinating. That I’d gone over the edge. But I was so happy to see you . . .”

“Wait, what? I was on TV?”

“Oh that’s right. I forget that no one has told you anything. The VR-01, that’s what it’s used for now. It’s reality TV in a whole different universe. Levia Codex is like Survivor with magic and monsters. And you’re the star, Eugene. Edge is the biggest star ever. I’m so proud of you.”

Mom was actually smiling now. But all Edge could think about was, “I’m on TV.” If he had a chair in his orchard, he would have fell into it. Wait a second. Did that mean that there were invisible cameras following him around . . . all the time?

Levia had always been the prison, the torture chamber, and now it was also the ancient Roman gladiatorial arena. His pain and his fear had become someone else’s, everyone else’s, entertainment. People had died. Or . . . their data had been deleted, or maybe they were just saved somewhere like an inbox. It was wrong. The whole thing. It was completely wrong.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Mom. What happens to me if-”

“Nothing, Eugene. Not anymore. The law has changed, thanks to you. Now they can’t delete you without my permission. They turned off Levia, for now.”

“But not for much longer, I expect,” said the CEO, returning early.

“Sorry Susan,” was all the lawyer had to say.

“It’s okay, Dave. Let’s get this over and done with-”

“Yes, let’s. We are willing to offer you this more than generous contract.” The document in question was thicker than a light novel. But the number on the cover had seven zeros behind it.

“We want Eugene safe, and able to communicate with Susan,” demanded the lawyer.

“A copy of the data can be made for Susan’s personal use, and activated whenever she desires through our server.”

“No. I don’t want a copy. I want him, my son, the real one.”

“In fact, I’m going to recommend that no copies be made of any of the participants,” said Dave.

“Not all of them are as concerned about the data as you are. We’ve already negotiated their contracts. Some find the idea of deletion completely acceptable, even preferable. So far, we have made it a hard rule to delete those characters who are defeated in Levia Codex. It is part of the game experience, and it makes for better television. Now, in this case, we are willing to make an exception, if you agree to undertake certain conditions.”

“What conditions? Edge is the star of VR-01, and Susan owns the rights to him,” Dave reminded the CEO, who winced at the remark.

He was a thing, Edge realized. It was like slavery. Or was he an A.I. and would it make a difference if he was? It still felt like slavery somehow, even if he was a machine. He was suddenly aware of the NPC’s he’d come across, of their own predicaments, of their own lives. Were they people once too? Could VR-01 program them, or reprogram them? He vowed to be a little nicer to any NPC’s he came across in the future, just in case.

“First, Edge must continue to participate in Levia. The finale of season one is literal minutes of footage away from being done, and we want it to end properly. Obviously, he won’t be allowed to tell anyone in the game what’s really happening. His complete discretion will be required.”

The finale. He was fighting it right now, he realized. Everything that was happening in the cistern was only on hold, and they wanted to finish it. They wanted to see him watch Daphne die. “I won’t do it,” he interrupted.

“What?” exclaimed, Mr. Brawvi. “You most certainly will.”

“I won’t watch her die. I don’t want to see anyone else die.”

“I thought this might be an issue. Derek, bring them in.”

Four almost familiar girls walked into the boardroom. The dark skinned Belladonna, was even taller than in Levia. She wore a revealing tank top and blue jeans, in the sort of style Belladonna liked. She had no Kiten ears or tattooed whiskers . . . and their faces, all of their faces were nearly the same, but a little different, not quite so perfect. Sakura was skinnier even than her elvish counterpart, and wore thick coke bottle corrective lenses, and had a mop of long straight black hair. Claire was as busty in real life as she was in Levia, maybe even more so, but she was far more rounded in other areas as well, and had much shorter blonde hair. She wore a sweatshirt that had the name of his high school plastered on the front. So she knew him from school then. No wonder she thought of him, like she did. She knew the old Eugene, the one who was a delinquent, the one who’d killed himself. Except for the anime eyes, Daphne was exactly the same. It was like she’d chosen Kiten and then had forgotten to change any of the custom character settings, even her natural hair colour was nearly orange. There she was, perfectly fine. She wasn’t drowning inside green slime. She wasn’t about to die. At least . . . not this Daphne.

“This is so unreal,” said Sakura.

“Our hero!” laughed a sarcastic Belladonna. She got like that sometimes, Edge knew, when she was uncomfortable.

Claire didn’t even say hello. She looked angry.

But Daphne . . . “Hi, Edge. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” he managed to squeak.

“As you can see, Edge, the girls are perfectly safe. The people you interact with in the game are only copies. Just data saved on a computer.”

“Just like me.”

“No, you’re an exception. You’re irreplaceable.” Mr. Brawvi, regretted the statement as soon as it left his lips. It was not good bargaining practice to let your adversary know how much you valued the item in question.

“I think . . .” said Daphne, “. . . that they are real too. I mean, not real people, but real, like ghosts.”

Even Edge had to raise an eyebrow at that one. Though, it made sense somehow. “I won’t do it unless you save Daphne, and the rest. No one should die- or be deleted- or whatever for this game show.”

“I don’t care,” said Claire. “I wish they would just kill me off so I don’t have to be a part of this embarrassment. I’m only here for the money.” This person wasn’t acting like the other Claire at all. Eugene was in a perfect position, however, to understand how much Levia can change a person. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who changed for the better, thanks to their time in Levia.

“Excuse me,” said Derek, the man in the lab coat, “but I think I can help.”

Edge recognized him at once when he stepped in front of the camera. His face was identical, even the hair was the same. It was the perverted Lord of Cobbletown, in the flesh.

“We haven’t met. I’m Derek, the lead developer of Levia Online. I’ll be the one altering it so that in the event you’re defeated, your data will be saved, instead of deleted. Now that the law has changed, what happens to data in the system isn’t up to me or anyone at VR-01 to decide. It’s up to your mom, and these young ladies. But I wonder if you haven’t noticed that by telling you all this, you’re in an excellent position to help keep them safe.”

“You don’t understand. It’s too late. Daphne’s already-”

“I think that’s enough spoilers, Eugene.” interrupted the CEO.

“About that, you might want to try . . .” Derek whispered the rest into the microphone at the case of the camera. Edge’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. It could work. In fact, if this was the guy who programmed Levia, then it was almost certainly going to work.

“What about the rest of the conditions,” continued Dave, who wouldn’t be sidetracked.

“Mostly trivial details of the contract, renewal options, marketing campaigns and the like. But there is one thing we require which is quite sensitive. Girls, I thank you for coming.”

“That’s it?” said Belladonna. “We came all the way here for that?”

“Thank god,” said Claire, making a hasty exit.

“Bye, Edge,” said Sakura.

“Nice to meet you,” repeated Daphne. “And, I’m sorry.”

The door closed behind them. What was she sorry for? that he died?

“Good, now the final component.”

“We’ll see about that,” said lawyer Dave.

“Eugene must choose one of the girls during the finale. It seems like they all have some measure of interest in him. His usual indifference has helped build his popularity, but we want season two to go deeper into the characters relationships. We have no preference for who he chooses, so long as it occurs immediately.”

Edge choked on his tongue. Of all the things the CEO was going to say, he didn’t expect that. He stared at his mom and Dave, looking for help.

“What do you mean choose a girl?” His mom defended. “I think it’s fine for him to keep them as just his friends.” Thank you, Mom. “If things go further, it should happen naturally. I doubt they’re as smitten as you think,” she added.

It was at that point he realized that his Mom was going to be watching his relationships develop on TV. It was a nightmare. Choose a girl? How could he even stand to look at them anymore? What if he said or did . . . His first kiss had been on TV in front of everyone, along with all those embarrassing moments . . .

“He doesn’t have to marry the girl, just speed things along a bit. Polls show the audience is growing impatient, even considering he’s a high school virgin.”

A nightmare. A total nightmare.

(Big)