"Doctor."
There it was again. That title.
I had never really thought much about it while playing.
Cyber World Online needed something for characters to call the player, and Doctor was what the developers had settled on. Plenty of games did something similar. Give the protagonist a title broad enough that every character could say it aloud without needing to record thousands of different names.
In CWO's case, there was at least some lore behind it.
From what little I remembered, the original Doctor wasn't supposed to be a soldier. Something about overseeing the treatment and research of people whose bodies had been ruined by early cybernetic augmentation, back when half the technology everyone took for granted was apparently experimental enough to melt your nervous system.
Then the setting got bigger.
Wars happened. Corporations became governments. Arcologies started collapsing. The Doctor somehow went from researcher to adviser, then adviser to field commander, and eventually became the convenient person everyone called whenever the plot needed six extremely dangerous women pointed in the same direction.
Typical gacha protagonist progression, really.
By the time the actual game began, "Doctor" seemed less like an occupation and more like a name.
Some characters treated the Doctor as a commander. Others as a physician, researcher, confidant, superior... there were probably several who saw the Doctor as something considerably more personal.
I didn't know. I skipped a lot of dialogue.
The important thing was that unless they had completed the "romance route", or was a plot-specific romantic interest, every single character in the game learnt to call the protagonist as "Doctor".
Doctor was Doctor.
The player was Doctor.
I'd accepted that in exactly the same way I accepted having an inventory capable of storing several hundred rifles without asking where my character physically kept them.
Except Mira wasn't reading dialogue from a script anymore.
She was standing in my apartment.
Looking directly at me.
And somehow, despite everything else she didn't recognise about this world, she recognised that.
Me.
"Doctor."
The second time she said it, I felt considerably less comfortable.
Mira didn't seem to notice my discomfort.
Or if she did, she had more important things on her mind.
"What happened to Cyverse?"
Straight to the point.
Of course.
I looked past her, toward the unconscious girl lying near the kitchen. She was still breathing normally. The corpse by the door had stopped moving. Outside, sirens continued to echo between the apartment blocks, occasionally drowned out by distant shouting.
Somehow, explaining the metaphysical status of an entire universe had become the next item on my emergency checklist.
"I don't know what happened to Cyverse," I said carefully.
Mira's expression tightened.
"But you said this isn't Cyverse."
"Because it isn't."
"Then how did I get here?"
Don't give me that face. I don't know that either.
Taking my silence for an answer, her stare made me feel like I'd submitted a report with half the pages missing.
Which, in a sense, I had.
I sat down on the edge of the couch.
"Look, this is going to sound ridiculous."
She glanced toward the corpse.
"I think my standards for ridiculous have changed."
Well, I couldn't agree more.
I rubbed my palms together.
There was probably a tactful way to explain this.
A careful way. Unfortunately, none of those were available.
What I did have was a dead zombie, an unconscious teenager and a woman from a video game asking me where her world had gone.
I laid it out.
...That would later turn out to be a mistake.
"CWO—Cyber World Online—is a game."
Mira stared at me.
"...Cyber... World." She articulated those familiar, yet foreign words. I could almost see the gears turning in her head.
"Cyverse. You're saying it's some kind of neuro-simulation made by—"
"—No." I interrupted immediately.
"It's not what you're thinking of. My explanation was literal. You. Are part of a game that I've played."
"Explain."
There wasn't even hesitation.
I suppose if someone told me Eden was actually a simulation running on an alien teenager's computer, I would also demand elaboration.
I turned toward my monitor.
The launcher was still there.
The same familiar icon I'd clicked almost every day for the past month and a half.
I opened it.
SERVICE HAS ENDED.
Mira read the words.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What is that?"
"Cyber World Online. The name of the game."
"And... Cyverse?"
"The setting."
I hated how small that word sounded.
Setting.
Like Arcology Nine was just a backdrop.
Like the Blackout was just something that happened because a writer needed conflict.
Mira stepped closer to the screen.
I opened the folder where I'd saved screenshots before End of Service.
The starting plaza appeared first.
Fireworks.
Players everywhere.
Then another image.
A combat stage.
Another.
Arcology Nine.
"—Stop." Mira placed my hand over the mouse. Her eyes were dilated in shock.
I gave her a moment to process what she was seeing.
She leaned closer.
Her fingers hovered near the screen.
I wondered what that must feel like.
Seeing your city flattened into pixels.
Seeing somewhere you'd lived displayed at 2560 by 1440 resolution.
I had once spent ten minutes complaining online because one of the textures in that area looked blurry.
That suddenly felt like information I should keep to myself.
"Where did you get this?"
"I took the screenshot."
"You were there?"
"Not physically."
"Then how?"
I swallowed.
"Because players could see your world through the game."
Mira turned toward me.
"Players."
"People who played CWO."
"And what did they do?"
"...Uh... ...Story missions? Combat. Events. And character building."
"Character building?"
I should have chosen different words.
"You could recruit people from the story onto your team."
Her eyes remained on mine.
"Recruit."
"...Through the gacha."
"What is a gacha?"
That was somehow the most normal question she'd asked.
"Uhhh... ...I guess it's like a system where you spend currency to randomly obtain characters and equipment."
Mira went quiet.
I could practically see the implications arriving one at a time.
"You obtained people."
"Digital versions of them."
The more I explained, the more this sounded like a Black Mirror episode in Mira's perspective.
"Versions."
"You can interpret it that way."
"And me?"
I hesitated. That was enough of an answer.
"You... had me." She murmured.
"I..."
Technically?
No.
I had skipped the tutorial.
Which somehow sounded even worse.
"You were part of the tutorial."
Mira waited.
I scratched my cheek.
"I didn't actually use you."
Silence.
"I skipped it."
Her eyebrows twitched.
"I was already familiar with games like CWO, so I skipped most of the beginner content and pulled a higher-rarity character immediately."
That sentence should never have been spoken aloud to the person it was describing.
Mira stared at me for several seconds.
"...Higher-rarity."
I wanted to disappear.
"Yes."
"What rarity was I?"
"Three-star."
"And what did that mean?"
"Gameplay-wise?"
Her expression answered the question.
Right.
Not the time.
I looked away.
"It meant you weren't especially strong compared to later characters."
Mira gave a quiet laugh.
Not amused.
"So I wasn't useful."
"That's not what I meant."
"...You didn't use me."
"Because I had better units."
The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted them back.
Mira looked at me.
I raised both hands.
"That sounded horrible."
"It did."
"I'm sorry."
For some reason, I felt like there was no right answer there. 'Using' characters sounded like... slavery.
She turned back to the screen.
I could have stopped there.
I should have stopped there.
But once I started explaining, questions kept coming.
"What happened to Arcology Nine?"
"I don't remember everything."
"You said you've seen it."
"I did."
"Then what happened?"
"...Mira, I skipped a lot of the story."
She turned.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"You knew my world existed. You could see it. Yet you didn't care what happened?"
"I didn't think it was real."
That stopped her.
Immediately.
For a few seconds, all I could hear was the air conditioner.
"...Not real."
"Not in the sense you're thinking."
"Then what sense?" I heard a sliver of agitation rise up from her voice.
I leaned forward.
"To us, CWO was fiction."
Mira didn't react at first.
Maybe she hadn't understood.
Then her face slowly changed.
"Fiction."
"Yeah. It's... a story."
"My home was a story."
"From our perspective."
"The Blackout."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Yes."
"Arcology Nine."
"Yes."
"My unit."
"...Yes."
She looked at the screen again.
"My brother."
That one I couldn't answer.
I remembered she had one.
That was about it.
I vaguely recalled a cutscene involving him.
Or maybe that had been another character.
I'm not a lore person. Especially when half my attention had been on progression guides for casuals.
"I don't remember." I replied bluntly.
"You don't remember my brother?"
"No."
Mira stared at me.
It wasn't anger yet.
Something closer to disbelief.
"But you're Doctor."
There it was again.
That title.
Only now it sounded less like recognition and more like accusation.
"I know."
"You are Doctor."
"That's what you call me."
"No."
She stepped closer.
"I know you are."
Something about the certainty in her voice unsettled me.
Not because she was threatening.
Because she genuinely believed it.
Like knowing the sky was above you.
Like knowing fire was hot.
"Then why don't you remember?"
I didn't have a good answer.
The obvious answer was also the worst one.
"Mira..."
"Why don't you remember Arcology Nine?"
"I wasn't there."
"Why don't you remember my unit?"
"Because I didn't know them."
"Why don't you remember me?"
I stopped.
That question landed differently.
I knew her.
Technically.
Her face.
Her class.
Her tutorial role.
Pieces of backstory I'd skimmed.
But that wasn't what she was asking.
"No."
Her voice became quieter.
"You don't."
I stood.
"That's what I've been trying to explain."
"Then who is Doctor?"
The question came out almost like she was asking herself.
I considered lying.
For perhaps two seconds.
Then rejected it.
She had just saved my life.
She was standing in an alien world with nothing except whatever memories she'd brought with her.
The least I could do was tell her the truth.
"There wasn't one."
Mira looked at me.
"What?"
"There wasn't a single real Doctor."
Her face went blank.
"The protagonist—the Doctor—was basically the player's role."
"The player's..."
"People like me."
I pointed toward myself.
"When someone played CWO, the characters called that player Doctor."
Mira stared at me.
"So my memories of Doctor..."
"I don't know what those are."
"I remember following Doctor."
"Mira—"
"I remember receiving orders."
"I didn't give them."
"I remember trusting you."
That hurt.
Not because I'd betrayed her.
Because I hadn't even been there to earn the trust she thought belonged to me.
"I don't know why you remember that."
"Then why do I know your face?"
"I don't know."
"Your voice?"
"I don't know."
"Why did I recognise you immediately?"
"I don't know!"
My voice came out louder than I meant.
Mira flinched.
I immediately regretted it.
"Sorry. I was... on edge."
I lowered my voice.
"I'm sorry. I really don't know. Whatever brought you here must have done something to your memories. Or connected me to the Doctor role somehow."
Mira touched her temple.
"So they're false."
"I didn't say that."
"You just said they may have been changed."
"I said I don't understand them."
"But you're sure about everything else."
"...About the game? Yes."
She looked at the screenshots again.
Her home.
My desktop wallpaper.
Folders.
Icons.
All the mundane proof of something that had never been mundane to her.
I wondered if maybe I should shut the monitor off.
Too late.
"What happened to me?"
I looked at her.
"In the story."
"Mira..."
"What happened?"
Her tone had become strangely calm.
I didn't like it.
"I don't think now is the best time."
"You know."
"A little."
"Tell me."
"..."
She pressed her hand on my shoulder.
"Tell me."
"... ...You died."
Mira didn't react.
For a moment I wondered if she hadn't heard me.
Then her hand moved toward her abdomen.
"I remember that."
My skin prickled.
"...You remember dying?"
"The reactor."
She looked down.
"The heat."
Her voice grew distant.
"The alarms were still sounding. I remember trying to reach the evacuation route."
She touched her stomach again.
"There was blood."
I didn't say anything.
"I couldn't feel my legs. ...And then nothing."
Her gaze returned to me.
"Until I woke up here."
That wasn't how I'd imagined this working.
I thought summoned characters would remember their lives up to some point in the story.
Apparently Mira remembered the end of hers.
Maybe that was why the system had selected her for the tutorial.
Because she was already dead in CWO.
The thought made me feel worse.
"What happened afterward?"
"The story continued."
"Without me."
"...Yes."
"Did they survive?"
"Some."
"My brother?"
I closed my eyes.
"I really don't remember."
"And you continued playing."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"After watching me die."
I heard coldness in her voice.
"It wasn't like that."
"What was it like?"
"A story."
The words came out before I could stop them.
Mira stared.
I tried again.
"To me. At the time. It was just a story."
"Just." She smirked.
"That's not what I—"
"Was it sad?"
I stopped.
"What?"
"My death."
She smiled faintly.
"Was it sad?"
"I..."
I vaguely remembered thinking the tutorial had been surprisingly dark.
It'd been a cyberpunk setting after all. A dystopian world with world-ending threats that came with it.
Then the gacha unlocked and I'd spent twenty minutes rerolling.
That memory suddenly felt disgusting.
"I don't remember."
Mira laughed.
"Of course you don't. You don't remember anything. Haha... ahahaha..."
"I see."
"...Mira?"
"So millions of people watched us? Watched people die."
I gulped. Another warning flashed through the translucent window.
"Played through a fictional story. And then collected the survivors."
She walked toward the window, and leaned on it.
Outside, Eden continued falling apart.
Smoke was rising farther away now. The roads below were mostly empty except for the occasional vehicle moving much too quickly.
Mira looked at it all.
"Your world looks peaceful."
Her eyes lingered on the streets below. Zombies were causing chaos everywhere, but her words held meaning.
"People aren't augmented." She flailed her legs.
"No Collapse Zones. No synthetic plagues."
I moved closer, but kept some distance between us. The warning windows continued to flood my vision.
"Listen. I know this is a lot."
"A lot."
"Yeah."
"You told me my world wasn't real."
"I told you it was fictional from our perspective."
"Is there a difference?"
"To you?"
I looked at her.
"Yes, of course!"
That finally made her turn.
"You believe I'm real."
"You're standing in my apartment."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"You're thinking. You're talking to me. You saved my life. You clearly have memories and feelings I didn't know anything about."
I gestured toward her.
"So yes. You're real."
I thought those were the words of consolation.
"For now."
But her words gave me pause.
"...What?"
"If I was created from your game..." Her fingers slid across the windowsill.
"If I die here, what happens?"
My stomach tightened.
"Don't."
"What happens?"
"I don't know."
"Would I return?"
"Mira. Stop right there."
"Would I wake up again?"
"Mi—"
"—Would Cyverse still exist?" She pointed the pistol at me, forcing me back.
"!!!"
"Would my brother be there?"
"Mira, listen to me. I don't know that, but—"
Click.
She did listen. For a second.
Then smiled.
It was small and tired.
"Doctor doesn't know much."
"Haha..." Her laughter trailed off, and I, who had blabbered the truth of her world, felt the consequences of my irresponsible ramblings a beat later.
—BANG.