The time closed in on 1800 and Flor stood near the Mayor’s Gate with Sparks. They were sitting on a bench in the cleared courtyard waiting. Sparks stood up and looked respectful, but Flor didn’t see anything worthy of additional action.

  Eventually, Sparks sat back down and looked over at Flor. “You didn’t stand for the procession.”

  “I didn’t see the gates open. I guess that solves that question. Since I solved it, it must no longer affect me.”

  “Just like the temporal differences at Widow’s Siege. I bet that if you explore around here enough, you might notice other changes to the cutscenes that occurred before you solved it. Is that procession something you needed to beat the city?”

  “Sort of, although we speculate there might have been a couple of ways into the manor. Do you want to go to the temple now?”

  Sparks stood and started walking. “It’s reasonable there would be multiple ways to solve the same problems. I’m glad I’ve been able to avoid participating in combat so far. It was one of the reasons I chose to play HSE; to opt out of PvP and avoid random violent encounters. I’m glad they carried that over to this playtest.”

  Flor said, “I have trouble reconciling your life in southeast Asia with a stance of nonviolence.” She didn’t mention getting mugged by thugs, beating up mechanicals in the Carillion, or the Maelstrom-induced PvP.

  “The world is a troubled place. But my past, or the past inflicted upon me, is only a part of me. It is a tremendous struggle not to allow it to affect who I am at each moment, and a momentous occasion every time I triumph over that struggle. It is the cycle of life. Simplified.”

  “You think I should overcome my rage by strength of will?”

  Sparks nodded.

  “I’ll try, but honestly my effort is focused on getting out of this game. Yes, I recognize that is privileged to say and endeavor toward. When I first arrived here, I was happy to live each day without complication, even if it was repetitive. But the rage got me. It caused me to be depressed. It forced me to despise the man I love. I don’t know if willpower alone is enough to overcome the building pressure holding me down each day. It’s willpower to wake and face it. If it gets worse, if it gets harder, then I might just not survive. Death in game might be preferable to the physical compression I feel. Maybe this is my rage. But I hope that I can get out of here and that the stress of the game will disappear, and then I’ll never enter another VR set in my life.

  “Your death is your release from reality. My release is escaping this trap.”

  Sparks remained silent alongside Flor. She was either respecting the things said, considering them, or formulating a response. Eventually, the temple was in view.

  “I’ll stay out here. Amets is the priestess in there. I don’t feel like dealing with her perpetual upbeat attitude right now.”

  Sparks went into the temple and Flor waited outside.

  I hope he doesn’t hate me for what I said. Maybe my words were too strong. I know he’s not delicate, but my world is as important as his. Although if he’s really from Vietnam, then he probably witnessed some horrendous things in the twenties. Or did them. Oh no! Maybe I shouldn’t trust him. He speaks calmly, but what if it’s a show?

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Why am I doubting him? He’s been nothing but helpful, and he’s tried to calm me along the way. He plans to keep you in the game as company forever.

  I’m not sure if that’s right. He seems clear on overcoming doubt. Maybe this is what I need to overcome. But how? Recognize it, for one. Deny it? Fight it? I don’t know. Maybe I should ask Amets. Maybe.

  Flor decided to go into the temple despite her aversion to an upbeat mood. She went quietly, noticing that Sparks was kneeling in front of the statue of the goddess. Flor slipped quietly through the door, then another, without being seen by the attendant. Amets sat on a couch reading a book and looked up as Flor entered.

  “I was hoping you’d come! Want a beer? I can drink more when I can justify it. And having guests is justification!”

  Flor shook her head, “Go ahead, but I’m having a bit of an existential crisis.”

  “From the Buddhist?”

  “Encouraged by the Buddhist. More from the game.”

  Amets poured two beers and put one on the table between the couches for Flor. Perhaps it was for appearances, but Flor left it there.

  “This rage in me makes me want to waste away. I don’t know how to contain it, because it gets stronger every day. But if I don’t resolve it, I don’t know what will happen. Maybe I’ll snap, and snapping might be me killing myself each game morning, or maybe going on a rampage of random citizens. But I can’t take the constant press without a release.”

  Amets put down her beer. “I’m equipped to handle this, maybe. But, you’ll need to talk with me each morning. Oddly enough, it’s not unlike guided meditation that the Buddhist does, but more like traditional therapy in practice.”

  “This is a built-in function of the game’s programming?”

  “Honestly I don’t know. I do know that I was programmed, if asked, to do a cumulative rage reduction. Someone tried to explain the maths to me, but it’s not something I retained. Maybe he said negative exponential curve, to a limit.”

  Flor’s analytical consideration took over. “From a guess, the rage increases exponentially. You would effectively counter that exponential growth until it leveled out or decreased. That makes sense if rage is just a number affecting our in-game emotions. If someone were to come to the temple daily, would they get the same benefit?”

  “Well yes, but no. This is strictly behind the scenes, yeah? Praying at the temple would counteract any particular rage gain, but I can double the loss effects. But not without effort. I can’t just wave my hand and toodle-loo your rage away. You have to want it and ask for it.”

  “Can we do it daily? Early? Like at six?”

  “Preferably not before seven. Can that be alright?”

  “I’m going to have lots to do each day to escape this place,” said Flor.

  “Yes, but you have thirty-two hours to do so each day. Sleep is restorative, usually. For me. So, please, let me sleep…”

  “Fine. Seven. But I’ll be here before then ready to go.”

  “See, your rage is already beginning to moderate.”

  Flor narrowed her eyes.

  “Sorry, not funny. Now, go collect your Buddhist and figure out a way to escape your entrapment in this world.”

  Sparks waited for Flor at the same bench Flor sat on when Sparks went in. He stood as she approached. “I’ve had a good breakthrough. From your countenance, it looks like you did also.”

  “Yeah. Look, I’ve been encouraged to get some sleep. Can you get along without me?”

  “Of course. But I seem to be low on funds. I’m not asking for a handout, but I didn’t get a chance to do chores this morning before coming here. Can you spot me coin for dinner and a bed? I’ll repay it to you tomorrow at the Widow’s Siege.”

  “Oh, yeah, how about this.” Flor pulled up her interface and withdrew Kester. “Kester, I’d like to add a party member. Please invite Sparks.”

  Sparks has accepted your party invitation.

  “Great. I can’t force you to but I recommend you mute our third-party member. I refuse to get rid of him, though. And please don’t mention him.”

  Sparks nodded.

  “Okay. Here are twenty coins. I’ll meet you at 0800 at the Widow’s Siege general entrance?”

  “Yes. Thank you for showing me around, and I’ll see you then.”

  Flor started to walk toward the Brawler’s Rest. The Cricket was closer, but the Brawler’s Rest was hers. At least, it didn’t remind her of him.

  Flor was asleep early. It was just dark, apparently, but she had already slept for an hour. She got up to go to the loo.

  A notification flashed on her interface.

  Sparks has died.

  Flor gasped, then finished her business and returned to bed.