The room was dark. The curtains were closed, the ceiling lamp turned off, and the furniture bathed only in a dim blue light. Amongst the shadows could be discerned a narrow double bed, a wardrobe, a chair and a simple desk covered in thick medicine books.
Like a lost isle in this ocean of tomes, a single framed photograph stood on the desk, of a smiling blond young man and a laughing brunette girl, their face smashed together and immortalized in very-close-up. The legendary so-called “couple selfie”.
As per the ancestral rule of such noble pictorial art, the – no doubt beautiful – background was barely visible behind the two lovebirds, any attempt at decent framing rendered utterly useless by the sheer lack of distance allowed by the length of one’s arm when holding onto one’s cell phone – because who needed a real camera when you had fucking Instagram, right?
The picture had supposedly been taken next to the Grand Canyon, but it could as well have been Tata Maurice’s backyard and nobody would have been able to tell shit. Besides, the current lighting made them both look like overgrown smurfs on Uranus anyway.
The source of that peculiar bluish aura was a screen, set on a huge white apparatus sitting in a corner of the room. A modern artefact which, in all fairness, could only be described as a gargantuan alien-looking suppository – which explained why its light made the Grand Canyon look like Uranus. <1>
“Sarcophagus Diving Capsule”, an object mostly famous – or infamous – for the monumental fuck-up of its designer. The man had later been duly fired, but the damage had already been done and it was too late to change the finished product.
The machine was now a bit dated – with everyone buying W-Chair these days –, however, back when it first came out, the dolorous price of the then cutting edge VR pod only further supported the inelegant comparison.
The apparatus was, in more ways than one, a pain in the ass.
Gamers being widely known for their subtlety, reserve, and tasteful sense of humour, the device was granted the affectionate nickname of “Sarcophanus Diving Capsule”.
A name that obviously engraved itself in the annals of Virtual Reality. <2>
Although, really, it worked just fine. It simply looked ridiculous and was embarrassing to own, and thus was the number one VR dive system found in second-hand shops. If one could bear the shame, it was an excellent price-quality purchase.
From the depth of the capsule, a faint breathing could be heard. Then a muffled voice rose in the silent bedroom.
“Untold Tales. Log In.”
A diode flickered.
– ▲▲▲ –
White whooshiness consumed the world, and William found himself bodiless, a disincarnate entity floating in endless immaculate vertigo-inducing void. Nothing distinguished top from bottom, nor left from right… nor any direction for that matter. It was similar to being seated on a chairlift during a snow storm… but without the chairlift, the snow, nor the storm… nor gravity… wrong analogy after all.
He wasn’t cold either for that matter, and after a very fleeting urge to puke, his whole body now only felt… numb… or “inexistent” to be precise. Though feeling like one don’t exist is a quite the paradox.
William let out a smug chuckle… or, at least, convinced himself he would have been doing so if he had had a body.
During the seven months he had spent saving up to buy this capsule and the hyper-hyped Untold Tales, William had thoroughly documented himself on the game. Now login in for the first time, nothing came out as too much of a surprise, despite still being slightly disorienting. It also helped that he was subconsciously under the usual noobish delusion that he was smarter than anyone else playing the game and would obviously find some hidden class that would rapidly propel him amongst the elite of the game.
Well, no blaming him there. Everyone thought that… most males did at least.
Incidentally – lucky him – the quantum zombies were on strike for better unhealth care, the god of urban legends was bedridden with the holy flue, and the Gate of Truth was closed on Wednesday, so nothing too unexpected was likely to happen.
And now, there should be…
*tirilili*
A monotone female voice reverberated in the endless whiteness.
William mentally blinked a few times.
Number of t… What? Is that really… Well, maybe something changed with the last update, he rationalized.
