Slowly, the car came to a stop, and I looked around at the car park. The world had stopped spinning, luckily. It still felt a little unstable, but I was pretty sure I’d be able to get out and walk without immediately falling on my face, and that was all I needed. I could deal with the slight dizziness that lingered.

“What flowers do you think we should get?” I asked.

My mom glanced at me, the surprise clear on her face. She stared at me for a moment, as if trying to work out why I’d asked, before lifting her chin.

“It depends,” she said in a snooty tone. “Hopefully, the florist has a good selection this year, but Mon and Dad haven’t let me know they’re on their way yet, so we can always go elsewhere if needed.”

“Good idea,” I agreed, causing my mom to send me a suspicious look.

We’d done that before. A couple of years back, we’d driven to not just one other florist but three. None had the right selection, according to my mom. They were either wilted, too dull or garish. There were so many excuses, so many insults said within the range of the florist, and in the end, she took so long that the shops had closed. We just went to the supermarket and bought three bouquets to combine in the end.

It did look really nice, though. Mom had an eye for flower arranging. Either that or she was so scared of it not looking nice and her parents hating her even more for it. But it didn’t matter. Neither grandparent said anything to her.

I liked to think that the housekeeper saw them, though. She always came in to tidy and make sure everything in the house was okay while my grandparents were away. Maybe she saw the bouquets every year and liked them.

That thought made the ache in my heart soften slightly.

“Why are you walking so slowly?” my mother snapped, looking back at me over her shoulder. “We don’t have all day!”

“Sorry,” I muttered as I hurried to catch up.

I wasn’t really trailing behind. I was a couple of paces back, if that, but it was clearly enough to annoy her. A small, petty part of me was tempted to fall behind again, but I ignored that thought and stayed close as we crossed the car park towards the flower shop.

“Hello, Amanda,” the florist said as soon as we entered, a broad smile appearing on his sun-weathered face.

“Hello, Malcolm,” Mom replied, barely even looking at the man.

Her eyes were already scanning the bright rows of flowers.

“Have a look around and let me know if anything catches your fancy?”

“Great,” Mom said, her lip curling slightly.

She’d never be openly rude to him. It was the closest florist to my grandparents’ house, so my grandmother used it often. If Mom were to be rude to him, it would reflect poorly on the family, but Mom had said before that she didn’t think Malcolm’s flowers were particularly impressive.

I liked the flowers, though. Or maybe I just liked flowers on the whole. I didn’t have them around very often; no one had ever given them to me, and Mom didn’t keep them in the house. Whenever we went shopping for them at the end of the trip, I was always reminded how much I liked them.

They were pointless, in a way. That’s what my mom always said when she made us drive to a different florist because none were pretty enough for her liking. She always said that they just died. There was no point in having them around because they only lasted for a week or so before they had to be binned, so why bother?

I never replied to her when she was ranting like that. There was no point, but I couldn’t help arguing with her silently in my head. Surely, happiness was a good enough reason to have them. I would be happy if I walked into a room and saw a bouquet of tulips or some other plants. They were so bright and pretty, and they smelt so nice. How could that not be worth it?

When I grew up and had my own place, I decided I would always have flowers. I’d have different ones in each room. Something bright and colourful in the hallway by the door, like the bright pink tulips I was staring at. I turned slowly, still considering my future house. I’d have something else in the kitchen.

My eyes fell on a bucket of pale blue flowers with gently pointed petals. Along the centre of each slightly crinkled-looking petal was a darker streak. It was beautiful, and I knew my grandmother would hate it. It wasn’t her style at all, but they’d be perfect in my kitchen. They were bright but not too bright. A little subtle, and I loved them.

I leaned closer, reading the label. Love-in-a-mist. It was a strange name, but I tried to commit it to memory. I knew it would be years before I was in a position to be able to buy the flowers, but I hoped I’d remember them.

Continuing to walk through the shop and smiling at Malcolm, I eyed the rows of brightly coloured flowers. Maybe I’d have sunflowers in the house somewhere. I wasn’t sure really where they’d go. I was running out of rooms. Maybe they could go in the lounge. Or would they be too big and bright for that? Perhaps they’d be better by the front door, and then I could move the tulips to the lounge?

But I would definitely have roses in my bedroom, I realised as I moved closer to where my mom was standing and eyeing the multicoloured display with a critical expression. I liked roses. They were pretty. But which colour would I go for? Red was classic, obviously. I knew that, but some of the other ones were so nice too. The yellow was too bright for the bedroom, but I did still like them. Maybe they could go in the hall with the sunflowers?

My mom let out a frustrated huff before leaning towards the peach roses. Her eyes narrowed as she searched it for faults that did not exist, and I started to turn. I’d already seen everything, though. I’d completed a full lap of the shop, and it felt like I’d looked at all of the flowers. I could always go again, but there was no real point.

There was nothing new for me to see. It would be best if I just stood quietly by my mom and waited patiently for her to make a decision, which could take hours. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, trying not to catch Mom’s attention. We still had four hours until the shop closed. It was unlikely we’d be there for the whole time, but not impossible.

Dizziness reached out for me immediately, sensing my resignation to stand there and do nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to do it; it was too boring, and I was too used to the stimulation of the other worlds. As much as I wanted to support my mom and be there for her, I knew there was no point. She wouldn’t want my input at all. I’d just return whenever we asked me a question.

My stomach started to turn as I searched for the strange floating island, eager to return to the arcade, before I stopped myself. Even though I really wanted to see what the games were like there, I needed to check in on the other world. It was more important to me, even though the floating world was more fun. It wouldn’t last, though. I knew that. Too much was looming just around the corner. I didn’t want to start medical training or become a politician or whatever else was about to happen there. I just wanted to be a kid.

In the spy world, I wasn’t quite just doing that, though. I was learning how to become a killer, and I knew that, but it felt different. It was more fun, in a way. Yes, I was learning how to shoot people and where to stab them, but I was also learning different languages and about different cultures and history and so much more.

Plus, I wanted to go back to the people there. I missed them so much even though it hadn’t been that long since I’d seen them last. It felt like it, though. They were locked in a different part of the school to me, and if they didn’t pass the induction, I’d never see them again.

My heart thumped unhappily, and I lifted my head from the pillow, barely noticing the dizziness that washed over me. I’d fallen asleep without turning off the lights, I realised as I blinked in the brightness, trying to force my eyes to focus on the alarm clock on my bedside table. I really didn’t want to miss the tour with Rodgers. I couldn’t miss it. I had to be up early so I could get ready, and I needed to be there.

The real me had to go on the tour. I didn’t want to just experience it on autopilot and only have memories of seeing the Academy for the first time. That would suck. What if I missed something important? Or if Rodgers said something I needed to know?

My vision finally focused, and a sigh of relief slipped through my lips. It was only a little after two. I still had hours until I needed to start preparing, and that realisation made a smile stretch over my lips as my head dropped onto the pillow again, and I let dizziness seize me.

“Urgh. We need something more,” Dina said, her tone frustrated as she walked forward. “I just don’t know what, though.”

The world quickly came into focus, and I stared at Dina, fear thumping in my heart. She was standing, hovering high above the ground, and, with a start, I realised that I was too. I was so far from the hill below that the people wandering around below looked like ants.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

My breathing started to speed up as I looked around, trying to work out what was happening. We weren’t falling, I realised after a couple of seconds. We were staying exactly where we were, somehow, and we weren’t plummeting towards the ground. It was almost like we were standing on an invisible platform. It felt strangely solid beneath my feet, but I couldn’t see anything when I looked down.

Well, nothing except the land far below, and that made my head spin even faster. I was still struggling with the leftover vertigo from returning to the world. I didn’t need to also be dealing with dizziness from the height.

My eyes snapped up, focusing on Dina and trying to ignore the sun floating high in the sky, almost even with us. Dina’s expression was troubled. Her eyebrows were pulled together as she walked across the invisible platform, squinting down at the people below. She cocked her head to one side before flicking her fingers.

I jumped slightly as a grey menu popped into existence before her, and she started to read the options, her expression becoming even more troubled.

“I don’t get it,” she muttered almost to herself. “How are they starving?”

She looked up at me expectantly, and I swallowed down my anxiety, letting muscle memory take over as I copied her gesture to pull up the menu. My eyes scanned the stats on the grey panel before me.

“I’m not sure. They should have enough crops, even with all the natural disasters,” I said. “They have enough farms, and we’ve got them researching hydroponics. As long as some survive until we’ve unlocked that, we should be fine, right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dina said reluctantly. “But I still don’t get why the crops aren’t growing.”

I squinted at the nearest farm, causing it to zoom in quickly. The image was perfectly clear and large in my view. I could see everything from the farmer working the land to the pale leaves that burst free of the ground and stretched weakly towards the sun.

“I don’t know. Maybe the soil is too acidic?” I suggested, blinking and looking at the next farm. “Or we didn’t leave it long enough since the last flood. Maybe the land doesn’t have enough minerals? Did we research advanced fertiliser in the end?”

Dina’s eyes flashed blue as she scanned the menus, searching for our evolution and advancement stats.

“Ah, no. We didn’t. We decided on creating universities instead,” she said with a slight grimace, even though it was definitely the right decision.

They generated way more research points. We needed them.

“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to work out a plan in my head. “How long do we have left until the hydroponics are done?”

“About… seven months,” Dina told me.

“Ah. And then they normally take… three months or so to actually be able to produce crops, and our citizens will last…” I brought up another panel, reading it quickly. “Oh… twelve months at the current rate, but they’ll be seriously reduced in numbers. We could make it work. We’d have to put a lot of effort into the rebuild, though.”

“We could,” Dina replied slowly. “But people will be so sad about their families dying, and that’ll make it harder.”

“Good point. Okay… so, what do you think we should do?”

Dina frowned, her eyes fixed on one of the farmers.

“Why don’t we move them?” she suggested. “I know our settlement is great, and it would mean starting over on a lot of things, but… higher ground might be better, like that other place we were going to use as the base. We’d have less floods, and the crops might grow better?”

My lips pressed together as I considered it. It would be a difficult journey for our citizens. They might not all make it, and they’d have no houses or shelter up there. They wouldn’t be able to bring all of their equipment or schools or anything, but we could leave a couple of people behind with the remains of the crops that we stored for the winter.

“Okay, that could work—” I started to say before being interrupted by a loud alarm. “Oh, what now?”

A red light lit the sky, and Dina and I looked around as our people continued about their lives, unaware of the blaring signal. I instinctively swiped up, bringing up the emergency warning system. My eyes darted back and forth as my heart sank slightly. I was glad we’d sunk so many research points into developing the system. It meant we had way more warning when natural disasters were about to strike, which seemed to happen every couple of minutes in that simulation.

“A hurricane?” Dina groaned as she read the same warning I was reading. “Really? Why are we getting another one? I thought Earth only had, like, one a century. We’ve already had two! This can’t be realistic.”

I let out a sigh, scanning the suggested course of action. It was another thing we’d dropped extra research points on, and it wasn’t really necessary, but I liked having it. It made me feel a little bit more in control. Plus, it definitely made things more realistic. Earth must have had emergency protocols just like we did. I mean, I wasn’t meant to know about them, but I’d overheard a few conversations between my parents that made it clear the city was prepared to do what it needed.

“What do you think we should do?” I asked with a sigh. “We could probably relocate everyone to the bunker, I guess? They should be safe there.”

That was what the system was recommending, after all. It generally was pretty good at choosing the best thing to do to preserve life and progress.

“We can’t,” Dina said miserably. “We turned it into cold storage after the last hurricane, remember? I’m sorry, that’s my fault. I thought we’d had all of the natural disasters! We never normally get this many!”

“There’s probably been an update or something,” I said, flicking my fingers to check the menu. “Yeah, updated a few weeks ago. I mean… we have a few real-time minutes until it hits. We could get them to start clearing it out? That won’t take them more than a couple of days.”

Dina pressed her lips together as she stared at the in-game clock ticking forward quickly. We were running out of time, and we both knew it. We needed to come to a decision fast. My hand itched to reach out and make an order for our citizens, but I didn’t want to do it without Dina’s agreement.

It was clear she was thinking about something, anyway. She had a good mind for that kind of thing. Sometimes, she came up with solutions that I didn’t even see. Maybe she’d suggest moving to higher ground again. We could see the path the hurricane was most likely going to take. If we were careful, we could avoid it. Or perhaps there was something else. Maybe I’d missed something.

I dismissed the emergency warning system and stared down at the people again, trying to figure out what it was that Dina was seeing. The people were wandering around, seemingly aimlessly. They were milling in the streets, heading to their houses and huts as the sun painted vibrant multicoloured streaks in the sky above them.

“I really don’t want to have to listen to their screams again,” Dina mumbled after a few seconds.

Ah. She hadn’t thought of any alternative plans. She had just been worrying about our people dying. I understood that even though I was a little disappointed. It was the worst part of the game. Whenever a disaster struck or war or famine or something, the game always blasted the sounds of people screaming and dying. It was deafening, and I swear it always went on for far too long.

It wasn’t necessary. We already knew what was happening to them. We could see the population count ticking down quickly along the top of the world. The noises just made it so much worse. They always left me unwilling to play the game again for a little while, which wasn’t what I wanted. It was meant to be an easy game, one we could play for a little and have a good time before moving on to play Ice Escape.

“Hey, why don’t we just stop?” I suggested.

Dina looked up at me in surprise.

“What?”

“We can tap out now before the hurricane hits,” I said quickly, glancing at the countdown that had appeared. “Then, we don’t need to hear all the screaming, and the game will be saved, so we can always come back to it another time when we have a plan. What do you think?”

“Huh…” Dina said slowly. “I guess we could. Or we could just start again next time. I’m not feeling too connected to these people anyway.”

She grinned at me widely.

“Same,” I lied.

I always felt connected to our citizens. I wasn’t sure why. It was just something that happened every single time I played. That’s why I could never do any of the destruction runs that I’d seen other people doing. They created cults and even had their citizens sacrifice others, laughing at the death and destruction, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Dina reached up, tapping her temple, and disappeared from sight immediately. It was almost like she’d never been there at all. I knew I should have followed her straight away, but I hesitated, looking down over the beautiful world that we had forged. They were our people, and they didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t want them to.

I allowed myself to watch them for a few seconds, enjoying the peace, before reaching up and touching my temples. The world disappeared. For a few seconds, all I could see was darkness, but it cleared before long.

The dazzlingly bright arcade was blinding, and I blinked, trying to force my eyes to adjust quicker. Finally, my vision cleared, and I looked around. I was standing on a raised black platform in front of a giant screen. The fans surrounding it whirred softly as they powered down, and I couldn’t help but stare at the arcade machine in awe. The world we’d created had been so clear and realistic. It was incredible. I hadn’t been able to see any of the arcade around me; it had felt like I was actually there, floating above the sky.

“Which machine shall we use?” Dina called back to me. “Right or left?”

I looked up, forcing my expression to be neutral and not show any of the wonder that flowed through me. It wasn’t the first time I’d gone to the arcade in that world. I should have been used to it.

“Right,” I said, deciding at random.

Dina grinned and started to move towards that machine, but I hesitated again, looking back at the screen in front of me. Our civilisation was still there. They were paused, frozen to the spot, and that made me happy. They’d be there forever. Time would never move forward for them, so they’d be happy and safe. The hurricane wouldn’t hit. No one would ever die.

A smile grew on my lips as I started to walk away from them. I knew they weren’t real, but there was a part of me that really enjoyed looking after the people and making sure they were as happy and healthy as possible. That gave me hope. It made me think that if the medical tests hadn’t gone well, then maybe I’d enjoy working in politics. I was pretty sure I’d be accepted for that.

Perhaps I could just pretend I was playing World Designer. The decisions would seem much smaller then, and that would be much easier to handle. I’d be okay with it. Actually, I think I’d probably be quite good at it.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I stepped up onto the platform where Dina stood, adjusting the thin silver bracelets on her wrists. Instinctively, my hands went to my own, and I looked down. I hadn’t even noticed them before, and I barely remembered slipping them out of my pocket before we started playing World Designer. I must have done that, though. I didn’t wear them all the time like Dina and most other kids. The feel of the gravity rigs against my skin irritated me too much.

“Okay,” Dina said, dropping her hands to her sides and bouncing on the balls of her feet as if about to break into a run. “Are you ready?”