Ryan POV
I’m not paying attention to the lecture. Professor Hammond is talking about algorithms, but the words are just sounds.
I know I should care. Computer Science is the only reason I’m here, and I’m decent at it. But right now, his voice is background noise.
I glance at my laptop screen. The same problem I’ve been staring at since this morning. It should be simple. It’s not working anyway.
My coffee is cold. I don’t remember drinking it.
Someone’s phone buzzes three times in rapid succession. Then someone else’s. Then another. It spreads through the classroom like a ripple.
People checking their screens, eyebrows raising. Hammond doesn’t seem to notice or care.
I ignore it. Whatever it is, it’s not my problem.
The lecture ends. I close my laptop and pack it away. The hallway is crowded—people moving between classes, conversations happening around me. I hear it everywhere.
"Did you see?"
"Everyone’s downloading it."
"I got into the beta. It’s insane."
I don’t ask what "it" is. I never do.
My next class isn’t for another hour, so I head to the cafeteria. It’s early, so it’s not packed yet. I find a table by the window and order coffee. Black. No sugar. The first one might still be in my backpack, but I didn’t check.
I’m halfway through opening my laptop when I sense him before I see him.
Daniel has a way of entering a room that announces his presence. Not loud—he’s not particularly loud, actually. It’s more like the air shifts. He doesn’t just walk somewhere; he arrives.
"Ryan." He drops into the chair across from me like he’s collapsing. "You’re not going to believe this."
I don’t look up from my screen.
"If this is about the gaming tournament again—"
"It’s not." He’s already pulling his phone out. His knee is bouncing. That’s the Daniel tells-me-something-important knee. I’ve known him since freshman year. I recognize the signs. "Look."
I look. His phone shows a forest. Trees that are so detailed they hurt to look at.
Not the plastic-looking trees from games I’ve seen before. These look real. Like I could reach out and touch the bark.
"Eternal Realm," Daniel says. "It went into full release yesterday."
"Okay."
"Okay? Okay?" His voice goes up. "Ryan, this isn’t like other games. This is different."
I hand the phone back.
"Not my thing."
"You haven’t even—" Daniel doesn’t take the phone. He leaves it on the table, screen still glowing. "Just listen. Twenty minutes. That’s all I need."
I consider arguing. I have a Systems Design assignment due in three days, and I haven’t started it. I should work on that cold algorithm problem. I should probably eat something that isn’t coffee.
But Daniel’s got that look. The one where if I say no, he’ll just keep talking anyway, and at least if I sit here, I can work while he talks.
"Fine."
"Okay, so VRMMOs exist, right? You know that?" He doesn’t wait for me to answer. "But they feel like games. You put on the headset, you see graphics, you remember you’re playing something. But this tech is different. It’s the new neural link interface. It actually makes your brain think you’re experiencing the world. Full sensory immersion. Sight, sound, touch, temperature—everything."
"That sounds fake," I say.
"That’s what everyone said. But it’s not. People are playing it right now. Real people. In real time." He leans forward. His eyes are bright. "And the world—Ryan, the world is alive. It’s persistent. When you log out, it keeps going. NPCs keep doing their thing. Merchants keep trading. Kingdoms keep having politics."
I sip my coffee. It’s still cold.
"What’s your point?" I ask.
"My point is that this is the biggest thing to happen in gaming in years. Maybe ever. Everyone’s talking about it. And you’re sitting here like it doesn’t matter."
"It doesn’t," I say. "I’m not a gamer, Daniel. I’ve never been a gamer."
"You played Skyrim."
"Freshman year. I played it for two weeks and stopped."
"Because the college computer lab only lets you log in for one hour at a time."
"Because I didn’t care," I say. "It was fine. Pretty. Boring."
Daniel sits back. He’s quiet for a second. That’s unusual. Usually, he just keeps talking until he wears me down.
"What if this was different?" he asks.
"It’s not," I say.
"How do you know?"
I don’t answer. He’s right. I don’t know. But I’ve seen enough hype cycles to know how they work. Something new comes out. Everyone’s obsessed. A month later, nobody cares. I’d rather spend that time doing something that actually matters.
"I’m just asking you to try it," Daniel says. His voice is different now. Quieter. "That’s all. One session. If you hate it, you hate it. No big deal."
"I don’t have a VR headset."
"I know."
He says it’s weird. Like he knows more than he’s saying.
"What?" I ask.
"I bought one. Two actually." He pulls out his phone. Open an email. Shows me a screenshot of an order confirmation. "They arrived yesterday. Still in the boxes. I was going to set them up anyway."
He bought two headsets. Before even asking me. That’s classic Daniel, but it’s also annoying.
"I’m not doing this," I say.
"Come over tonight," he says. "Bring nothing. I’ll have everything set up. Thirty minutes. If you hate it, you can leave."
"Daniel—"
"I’m serious. Thirty minutes. What do you have to lose?"
I have Systems Design to work on. I have that algorithm that doesn’t work. I have probably five other things I should be doing.
"It’s going to be a waste of time," I tell him.
"Maybe." He stands up. "Seven o’clock. My place. Don’t say no."
"I didn’t say yes."
"You didn’t say no either." He grabs his backpack. "Seven o’clock, Ryan. I’m setting everything up for you. The least you can do is show up."
He leaves before I can argue. Just walks away, back into the crowd of students, and disappears.
I’m left staring at his phone on the table. He forgot it. I pick it up to call after him, but he’s already gone.
The forest is still on the screen. Those trees. That impossible detail.
I lock the phone and set it aside. I open my laptop. The algorithm is still broken. The code still doesn’t make sense.
I close my laptop. I can’t focus.
Why did he buy two headsets? Who buys something expensive before even knowing if the other person will want it? That’s not smart. That’s just... Daniel.
But he did.
And I haven’t said no.
Seven o’clock. Tonight.
I tell myself I’ll cancel. Send him a message, make an excuse. Too much work. Not interested. Something.
I didn’t send the message.
Instead, I sit there with his forgotten phone, watching that forest on his screen, and I think about what it would feel like to actually be there. To not just see it, but feel it. Temperature on skin. Wind. Solid ground.
Then I catch myself thinking that way and stop.
It’s just a game.
That’s all it is.
But I didn’t send the cancellation message.
And when I finally pack up my things and leave the cafeteria, I realize I’ve already made a decision I haven’t admitted to yet.
I’m going tonight.
Seven o’clock.
To Daniel’s place.
To try something I never thought I’d try.
To step into the Eternal Realm for the first time.
And I have no idea that nothing will be the same after tonight.