Jade
[Warning: You have been using your full-immersion device for 5 hours and 45 minutes. As stipulated by Law 22.014/2073, you will be automatically disconnected in 15 minutes upon reaching 6 hours of continuous use], a message I had read so many times before that I could recite it by heart appeared in my peripheral vision.
"Only 15 minutes left, huh? Meh, I think I've done enough for today," I said, double-checking that my avatar was safe. "That's all for now, I guess. Open main menu. Disconnect. Confirm." I went through the standard routine, and slowly the vibrant world around me grew darker and darker, until I opened my real eyes to find myself staring at the interior of my full-immersion headset.
"Urgh..." I tried to yawn, but my mouth was so dry I sounded like a mummy emerging from its sarcophagus to chase down a pair of adventurous archaeologists.
Damn, I should've eaten or drunk something before logging in, I thought. Of course, real-world hunger and thirst weren't suppressed, nor were any other physiological functions; while playing, you remained perfectly aware of your actual body's state, but sometimes I just got too distracted by the games.
"Uurgh..." I got out of bed, moving like a mummy again. "I wonder if Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes has any instant noodles?"
I cautiously left my room, making sure I was the only one awake.
After downing a large glass of water, I followed the natural instincts inherited from my foraging ancestors of hundreds of thousands of years ago and opened the fridge and kitchen cabinets.
"Huh, would you look at that? He actually had some," I said in surprise, finding a pack of instant noodles. I filled two pots with water, and while waiting for them to boil, I fried an egg. Once the water started bubbling, I cooked my instant noodles in one pot and a hot dog sausage in the other.
Returning to my room at 4:00 AM with a ready-made meal, I stopped in the hallway, staring at my twin brother's locked door.
He never did come talk to me about the gift, after all... That time, I wasn't surprised. Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes probably threw his copy away.
"Hmph! Jerk," I said, entering my room and turning on my computer.
I looked for an interesting video to watch while I ate, but my recommendations were limited to anime music and analyses of games I'd already played. I decided to watch an episode of the pirated anime I'd downloaded instead.
"He would've liked this one," I found myself saying with a smile.
At least, the version of my brother from two years ago would have, the Peridot who spent his free time discussing everything embarrassing, unproductive, and useless with me; the twin brother who would never abandon me, who loved me, and whom I loved back.
"Knock, knock!" Someone was knocking on my door.
"C-Come in," I said, after hiding my dirty plate and trying to fix my messy hair.
"Up this early?" Peridot asked, entering the room. He sighed when he looked at my computer screen, where the anime I'd forgotten to pause was showing a scene of the protagonist saving an elf from falling to her death in a volcano... by grabbing her by the boobs.
Damn show, why did you have to have a scene like that right now?!
"You stayed up all night watching this trash, didn't you?"
"F-First of all, staying up late every now and then isn't a problem," I retorted, alternating between scratching my head and hugging myself. Just when I thought I'd escaped our parents' lectures, my idiot brother would barge into my room to act all superior! "And second... ly? Secondly...? Cough, cough!" I cleared my throat. "They aren't trash!"
"The last one you recommended to me was titled 'Reincarnated as a Sperm Inside the Hero's Testicles: I Have 300 Million Rivals!'"
"S-So what?! The world-building was surprisingly good!"
"...If I didn't know you, I'd think you were delirious from lack of sleep."
"Hmph! I haven't sunk that low. I can still easily pull two or three all-nighters with perfectly fine cognitive and motor functions", just using those words, stating that truth, made me feel disgusted.
Peridot sighed. As he left the room, he concluded:
"Just go to sleep already. And don't forget to wash your plate before you do."
Ah, so he noticed the plate...
Game Over ☠
Peridot
I heated up two pots of water, boiling instant noodles in one and a hotdog sausage in the other, and fried an egg in a skillet.
I ended up playing that MMO far longer than I should have, getting only three hours of sleep last night. I'm glad the law mandates that fully immersive games include a real-world clock, yet I'm still embarrassed that I have to resort to the same tactics she does, and for the very same reason...
With the hot meal in hand, I paused halfway to the table, gazing at my twin sister's bedroom door.
I couldn't deny feeling just as nostalgic as she did for the good old days, but beneath all that gear, jargon, and ritual, we were just kids. I was just a kid.
And growing up means having your childish worldview shattered, I thought, setting my meal on the table. That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to help her truly grow up this time, Jade!
As I ate, I propped my phone up and watched a 24-hour news program: the New Dollar was still in freefall; the Greater Philippines were considering anti-immigration policies; and the fourth film about the Dark Zone 1 (DZ-1), formerly Rio de Janeiro, was being announced, expected to capture an even larger share of an entertainment market that had been severely crippled long before Los Angeles (and, consequently, Hollywood) turned into a radioactive wasteland.
Basically, nothing new. Perhaps that's why I found myself thinking back to the previous night and looking up the game online; despite its recent release, the web was already teeming with articles, videos, and livestreams about Vanguard VRMMORPG.
Most of the content published in the last few hours seemed to focus on the "Rearguard Mutiny Event." Reading through those articles, most players weren't even aware that one of their own had triggered the event; they mostly shared funny, interesting, or frustrating stories about those hours when the spawn point was plunged into chaos. Some spoke of parties comprising dozens of players hurling themselves at groups of half a dozen NPC soldiers; others complained about the thirty-minute wait to create a new character after dying; and still others commented on how incredible it had been to retake the airship from the mutineers.
But there were a few, a small elite hailing from other games, none other than the biggest nerds aiming for the top spots in the game's rankings, who made insightful notes on their personal blogs.
"Vinea: NPC or PC?" was the title of one article, which discussed various possibilities regarding the character I suspected was my twin sister's avatar. "I Found the Official Richest Character Ranking!" read the title of another. "How Do Vanguard Classes Work?" Finally, I'd found something relevant.
My eyes quickly scanned the text, and I went straight to the most important part:
"Okay, so for the first 25 levels, regardless of the starting class you choose, you'll likely have somewhat mixed gameplay, and that's by design. If you pick 'Swordsman,' there will still be situations where it's smart to use a pistol; if you pick 'Sorcerer,' you'll probably want to carry a melee weapon. The game basically forces you to branch out a little so you're sure of the path you want to take before hitting level 25 (IMPORTANT: this doesn't mean you should distribute your points aimlessly, though! Eventually, and it doesn't take long, you'll get a good revolver or enough Strength points to hold your own with just a sword)."
"But what happens when you reach Level 25? Folks, that's when the game gets really interesting... You advance your class! My heart races just writing this article; the range of known possibilities for each starting class already exceeds fifty, and it seems we're far from discovering them all! Sure, the classics are here, and they aren't bad choices, I met a player who became a 'Knight,' which brought him a host of nobility-related perks, for instance. But I also saw a guy who became a 'Herald of Sin'; he fused his body with a demon, and his own arm transformed into a badass sword made of flesh and bone! I just saw that he put his avatar up for auction, and the current high bid is 16,000 reais!! Yeah, the price of a brand-new car!"
"Oh, shit!" I realized I was already fifteen minutes past the time I usually left for work. As much as I hated to admit it, it was all too easy to get sucked into that kind of nonsense. "I'm heading to work; I should be back around six. If you get hungry, we've got better ingredients than just instant noodles," I said, standing outside Jade's bedroom door. "Actually, the only reason I have instant noodles in the first place is that they're handy for emergencies," I felt the need to explain myself for some reason.
Then, I grabbed the car keys by the door and left the apartment.
▲○X■
I walked into the office just in time to clock in, and as I filled a small cup of coffee, I watched the dozens of containers moving in and out of the company yard. Some were painted in camouflage patterns, others bore the flag of the New United States of America, or that of the Democratic Republic of America, or the flag of the Holy Texan-American Empire; a few simply displayed the letters "FR" or "UK"—representing those European countries that hadn't even been lucky enough to fragment into a million separate states.
"It must be satisfying, right?" asked a woman with a strong English accent, leaning against the coffee station beside me. She looked to be about thirty, wearing bold red lipstick and a hairstyle that seemed straight out of an American pin-up magazine from two centuries ago. She could easily have been a supermodel, were it not for the vertical scar that blinded her left eye and cut across her beautiful lips. "Seeing the pieces of your old enemies being sold off like this."
"I wouldn't say we were enemies," I replied, turning my back on her and walking away.
"No? All things considered, that's... surprising," she said, following me.
"I was a child. I never really understood the politics behind all of that."
"So... you sympathize with us, is that it?"
"I never said I considered them friends, either."
"Hah-hah, of course. Always the rational type, aren't you? That's good; you're quite competent. That's why you landed a white-collar job when so many others like you didn't.
Stopping in front of my desk, I stifled a sigh.
"You too."
"Oh, no, no, I'm just a mere supervisor." She smiled, watching the MECHA being hauled out of the company yard before continuing: "I'm just here to ensure these things aren't being misused.
"Misused?"
"Yes. You know, the very idea that the masterpiece of the greatest army this planet has ever seen, the 'Mechanized Elite Combat and Hazard Agent', or 'MECHA', would be reduced to mere servers for video games that are too complex for their own good is ridiculous. So much so that some of the bigwigs fear they might suffer from "MECHA psychosis" due to the incredibly complex, unconventional simulations they'll be calculating. They fear the machines might just rise up and destroy everything around them, you understand?"
"The only ridiculous thing here is that hypothesis. MECHAs are properly disarmed and lobotomized before running any simulations, and the government keeps every single one of them under constant surveillance. The only way something like that could happen is through internal interference." I adjusted my tie before concluding: "And as you said yourself, it takes a special kind of competence to end up in this office, Marilyn."
She smiled.
"Hah-hah. Doesn't it? The real threats aren't here, or in the Greater Philippines, but back home. For one thing, we only export our little babies to you because they're all we have left to sell. But, you know: old habits die hard. That's why we're different, Peri. A year from now, you might very well still be here, with a very fat bank account. But I could easily be back out there crushing pilots. I was good at it, you know? One of the best, actually."
"...Hm," I grunted.
That's not what she would have said about you. Actually, how did they call you?
"Still, it was so terrifying... If possible, I'd prefer never to go back to combat. Hey, maybe you could teach me a thing or two about adapting to civilian life?" Marilyn winked at me.
I remembered. They called you "VIP."
I clenched the hand in my pocket into a fist, but when I glanced over my computer, I saw my boss giving me a double thumbs-up, smiling with flushed cheeks.
"If you want a recommendation, I can give you one," I said, stifling a sigh. "It shouldn't be hard to get you a position as a supplier, considering your connections."
"...Thanks, I'll consider that as one of the options for building my nest egg, as you guys say." Marilyn winked at me and finally left me alone. Or rather, she allowed another nuisance to approach.
"Peri!" My boss, a portly man trying to mask his baldness with the few strands of hair he had left, approached with open arms. "Getting along well with our client's supervisor?"
"…Who knows?"
"Haha! I know! Haha!" he laughed, slapping me on the back with an open palm. "How about inviting her to lunch during the break? Who knows? That beauty might just show some interest in you."
Don't you mean "who knows if that beauty might secure us some negotiating advantage"? I thought. Not that I could really accuse my superior of that, especially since Marilyn was right about me holding a position that was unusual given my background.
Not that I could refuse, either, as long as I had a duty to fulfill.
"I'll think about it."