Gripping my head, I took a long, calming breath. Just because I’d time-traveled, simulation-swapped, or whatever this was, didn’t mean I was in any better position than yesterday.
If all those sci-fi time-travel movies taught me anything, it’s that I needed a plan—and it usually involved making money. Or maybe breaking down the AI machines. No, scratch that. If the “simulation within a simulation” thing was real, that was a terrible plan.
Alright, so the goal was simple: make money. With enough of it, maybe I could create jobs and change the future, solve this whole mess of AI stealing jobs. Or something like that. But how to make a fortune?
The only thing I remembered about future markets was the big cryptocurrency surge in a couple of years. But was it two years? I hadn’t paid attention. Stock market? Didn’t care. Wheat or oil prices? Nope. Super Bowl? Not interested. Any other sport? The only thing I cared about was Rimelion PvP—that was my real passion.
Wait. Rimelion!
I could make a ton of money playing the game! Finally, I’d be able to stomp on “normal” players instead of just other testers!
Excited, I jumped into my old capsule, labeled in big red letters: FOR TESTING PURPOSES ONLY. It was bed-sized, with a sleek, metallic silver finish. I settled in, let the system scan my retina, and a second later, I was logged into my Rimelion account.
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[Welcome back, John.]
[Error, you cannot create a character, you are part of the development team.]</td>
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Oh, no! How could I forget? The time-travel mumble-duple-jumbo didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t play. An annoying foul mood washed over me, seeping into my bones like some cursed elven ice cream. History was repeating itself, because I’d faced this same frustration back then. Today was that day, wasn’t it? The launch of Rimelion.
I gave my head a little knock, trying to jolt my memory.
How did it go? Lucas had promised he could get me into the game, but I’d turned him down. I rubbed my temples, straining to recall the reason. How could I remember every detail after all these years? Well, no need to struggle—one phone call could clear this up.
“Hey, John! What’s up?”
Lucas was still alive! My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like an imperial war drum. “Lucas, can you get me into Rimelion?” I asked, my voice trembling with excitement. Adrenaline surged through me, making my fingers tingle. If I could get into the game…maybe I could even meet a whiskey-loving girlfriend. Wait, no! I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I was doing this for the money to save the world.
“John, I told you to come here!” Lucas’s irritation seeped through the line. “Not over the phone; meet me at my place in three hours.” The line went dead, and I felt a flicker of frustration. How was I supposed to know I’d asked him the same question 20 years ago?
Alright, one more thing to handle before I strike it rich. With renewed determination, I logged into my corporate account.
[You are about to end your contract, are you sure?]
“Yes.” My finger hovered over the button, and a pang of fear hit me. This company had been like family, and if I did this, there’d be no more coffee breaks with Lucy in the storage room. With a deep breath and eyes shut, I confirmed my decision.
After all, I was still seething over that layoff twenty years in the future—or was it in another simulation? All this simulation mumbo-jumbo was messing with my head, and the obnoxious ringing phone wasn’t helping. Wait, what—a call? From the R&D center, no less!
“Hello? What’s going on?” I demanded. “You can’t force me to work anymore!”
“Greetings, John. I wanted to reach out because I received a notification that you have terminated your contract with us,” said a bored monotone voice—too flat to be robotic. She had to be real. “Your dissatisfaction with our workplace is disappointing to hear. However, we value your feedback and would like to extend an exciting opportunity to you. We are currently running a test program for our next-generation capsules, the Mark 3. As a valued member of our team, we’d like to offer you the chance to participate in this program and receive a complimentary Mark 3 capsule for testing purposes.”
Her words sounded like she’d repeated them a thousand times. “We believe your expertise as a tester will be invaluable in helping us refine and improve the performance of our products. By participating, you’ll continue to shape the future of our company.”
Did she say Mark 3? My current capsule was just the first model—no nutrition feature, no sanitation options. This was definitely an upgrade. There was only one catch. “Can I play the game?”
“I regret to inform you that current restrictions remain in effect, and as of now, no exceptions have been granted by your superiors,” she replied, her voice so lifeless that I actually felt sorry for her. What a miserable job. “Therefore, you must adhere to the established protocols and comply with the regulations accordingly.”
“Then what exactly am I supposed to do with the capsule?” I asked, completely baffled. “I terminated my tester contract, so I can’t even log into the test servers.”
“Dear John, I would like to clarify that, within my role and responsibilities, I am not authorized to question or challenge any directives issued. My objective is simply to extend this opportunity and provide the necessary details for your consideration. Therefore, I must request a definitive response from you—either accepting or declining the offer presented. Your decision will be duly respected, and we appreciate your prompt attention to this matter.”
Oh right, corporate nonsense. Once, they’d given me ten days of vacation and flight to plant trees in Indonesia just because I’d stumbled around a hallway half-drunk and the janitor’s kid saw me. Yeah, I didn’t get it either, but in the corporate world, you just took it and didn’t ask questions. “Sign me up! When can I expect the delivery?”
“We would like to request permission for our technicians to enter your apartment within the next two hours to install the capsule. We understand this may be an inconvenience, but we assure you that our team will strive to minimize any disruption to your daily routine. We greatly appreciate your cooperation and look forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.”
I glanced around my apartment. The only things of value were my old TV and the current capsule. “Sure, I’ve got nothing valuable here, so I’ll go see my friend. Thanks, miss!” I heard her groan before she hung up.
I dug through my closet, threw on a plain shirt and jeans, and dashed outside. Lucas was waiting! The scorching sun hit me like any other day, but the last time I’d walked these streets, I’d only seen robots. Everyone else, except a few wolves like me, was at home playing the game. But now the streets were packed with cars and people—so many living, breathing people!
The smell of exhaust wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it beat the endless blackouts in the future. I darted through the crowded street, grinning at strangers like an idiot. One guy shook his head and hurried his pace, but I just smiled wider, skipping and jumping along until I reached a ten-story white building.
Last I checked, back before the “commies” arrived, even the cheapest apartments here were way out of my budget. I swung open the door, stepping onto the familiar beige rug in the lobby, and blinked in surprise—a real, living woman was working the reception desk. No way! The last time I visited, there was only a screen with an AI that had zero personality because it wasn’t advanced yet. That was around the time of… the funeral.
“Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?” she asked, glancing at my torn jeans. Hey, that’s fashion. I’d ripped them with a knife the day I bought them!This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Sure, they’d lasted me another twenty-five years, but here they were only five years old!
Lucas and I had been friends forever, so I knew firsthand how forgetful he was. Flashing my best smile, I let the scanner read my retina and gave her a nod. I opened my mouth to tell her I was here to see Lucas or maybe crack a joke, but the words got stuck. I couldn’t even say my name.
Right. As much as I wanted to be around real, living people, I still couldn’t talk to them. How could I have forgotten? My stupid brain was still wired wrong, even after the time jump. Whenever I tried to talk to strangers, I froze up, borderline panic attack. No problem in the game, among testers I knew personally. Maybe it was a good thing people mostly stayed home in my time?
After she confirmed that Lucas had, miraculously, left a note for me, I found myself knocking at his door. Even something as simple as a door here was more extravagant than my entire apartment—polished wood inlaid with gold accents, the nameplate “Lucas” gleaming in pure gold. Gold!
The door swung open, and there stood Lucas, grinning at me. “I thought you’d just run back to the boring life of QA.” He looked even better than I remembered: a twenty-five-year-old with a military physique and neatly cropped hair. I just stared, speechless. He’d been dead for ten years. “John? You in there?”
I snapped out of my daze only when he pinched my shoulder. “Lucas, I’d never go back! I’ve thought it over, and you were right!” Whatever you told past-me, anyway.
He ushered me inside, and as usual, vodka was mandatory. After he filled me in on his latest romantic drama, we headed to his hacking room. God, I’d missed this—the old days coming back to life.
Ever seen a real hacker? Sure, Lucas had the whole setup—three monitors, a VR helmet for 3D hacking, like something out of a movie. But in reality, his “hacking room” was more of an energy drink warehouse, with cans stacked everywhere to fuel his caffeine obsession. Or to replace vodka obsession?
“So, how do we do this? Are you hacking my ID or something?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around how he’d pull it off. Could he actually delete my company records?
“That’s easy!” Lucas grinned. “Since the government’s launching the official game, Rimelion, there’s a rare ID freeze happening right now! I can swap your retina ID with someone who died and had a game account…” His voice trailed off, and I raised an eyebrow, but he quickly added, “Which means you’d be able to play!”
“But wouldn’t that mean I’d technically be that person?” I leaned against a shaky cabinet stacked with energy drinks. “You need an ID for everything.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Look at it this way—you’ll finally get to play the game, and with all the secrets you know, you’ll be a king in no time! Come on, take a seat.” He shoved aside a few cans, and I plopped onto something that was part sofa, part bed.
“By the way, I just signed a new contract with my company to test the Mark 3 capsule at home. Is that gonna be a problem?”
“Nah, no one’s gonna remember you. Thousands of testers are off the radar, so you’ll just blend in. They only keep the identifier linked to your ID—it’ll be fine.”
“But… that means I’ll be stuck with someone else’s virtual body, right?” The thought made me shudder. “I don’t want to end up as some old bald guy! Can’t you re-scan me?”
“Nope, body scans are a one-time deal. If you want to change it, we’d have to go through illegal clinics or something, since the DNA on file won’t match yours,” he replied with a shrug.
That got me riled up. I shot up and stalked toward him. “Okay, okay, but what about the class? What if I end up as a mage? I can’t be a mage! Or what if the dead person had debts? What then?” I stopped an inch from his face, practically glaring.
That was why I hadn’t done it before. The ID was vital for dealing with the government, and once it was set, I’d be stuck with it. Or worse, I’d risk execution. Commies. Though, to be fair, the democratic government set it up.
“Chill out! Just today, over six thousand people died, and there are hundreds of thousands of unprocessed IDs in the system. We’ve got plenty of options.” He brought up a comprehensive list of names on his middle screen. “Filtering… Okay, only IDs with no debt. You’re into classic warrior types, right? Filtering again… Looks like we have three hundred warriors, though none of them are named John.”
I stood beside Lucas for what felt like ages, scrolling through profiles, until he suddenly said, “Hey, here’s one—21 years old, name’s Charlie.” The file showed a photo of a young guy with an average build, mid-jump into a pool.
“Perfect! Let’s go with him!” I slapped Lucas on the shoulder, but somehow nudged his hand, causing him to scroll, and the filter vanished. Did he do that on purpose?
“Careful! Ow, my hand… Alright, here we go. Just head to the scanner—”
“Hold it!” I said, shaking my head. “What do you take me for? I need to see the ID first, or I’m gonna end up as someone’s grandpa!” His eyes went wide as he quickly took hold of the mouse.
“Alright, fine. Here, see? Tags are [No debt], [Rimelion], [Charlie], [21 years old]. Happy now? Let’s do it!”
I nodded reluctantly and stepped over to his military-grade eye scanner. Wait—military-grade? I knew Lucas was loaded, but this was on another level. He’d never mentioned this over our drinks. Maybe that’s why he’d gotten himself killed—this kind of gear wasn’t just expensive; it was probably illegal.
The scanner gave a single beep. “Done. You’re now Charlie. I transferred everything from your old ID, so it’ll feel like nothing changed. Except, you know… name and body. Game starts in two hours. Let’s celebrate!” He handed me a vodka with a wide grin. Ah, yes. Vodka and energy drinks. People have died for less, but that couldn’t have been Lucas’s issue—he always drank slow and steady.
“When you dig up some loot, don’t forget about ol’ Lucas! I kept my name the same in the game.”
Downing the glass, I grinned back. “You had to jump in fast to snag that! They opened character creation last week, right?”
“Yep! I wanted to be just Lucas, nothing like ‘SuperLucas85.’ So, when you’re done slicing skulls with that sword, remember, there’s a mage named Lucas around.” He tried to sound excited, but there was something off—the way he looked at his glass, his slumped posture. Something was weighing on him.
“A mage, huh? Hate to say it, but that’ll be tough. You know, you’ll need to learn all the hand gestures, draw runes mid-air…”
His jaw dropped as he stared at me, mumbling in disbelief, “Wait—what? I thought I’d just wave a staff around lazily from the back! I’m terrible at drawing. Why didn’t you mention that earlier?”
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my drink. “Hey, you didn’t ask! But don’t worry. When you do your first class quest, choose ‘Magic Swordsman’—that’ll suit you better. Or do you really need me to carry you that badly?”
He took another sip, his expression turning serious. “I… I kinda lost a lot of money, you know. I need this game to help me pay off some debts. A friend in the community said the economy’s going to be huge, and virtual money will be interchangeable with dollars.” I gave him a puzzled look, and he rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean! Credits, but they’re basically dollars. I need them to clear my debt.”
I shook my head with a grin. “Can’t you just sell the door or your apartment? Or hack a bank to give yourself the funds?”
“Nah, mate, I need more than selling stuff would get me. And I’m a security analyst, not a script kiddie! So, how are we going to get rich, fast?”
An enormous debt? Why was he living in this extravagant apartment, then? I’d never understand the rich. But I could help him out. After all, the game was my territory.
“We need to hit level fifteen as soon as possible. After that, we’ll be able to make serious money without raising suspicion. But don’t expect a fortune in a month—I’m lying low for now. Admins are ruthless.”
Lucas let out a sigh and nodded. “I know, Charli—” He quickly corrected himself under my glare. “I mean, John, I know. I feel like I’ve lost part of my soul lately. Something big happened… I’ll fill you in later,” he added, seeing me open my mouth to press him.
“Funny you mention that. There’s this movement—Children of Gaia, or something like that. They believe the world isn’t real and… they kill themselves to be reborn in the game…” My voice trailed off in a whisper. That group probably hadn’t started up yet, but was there maybe something to it? Could all this simulation talk be true? I shook my head and took a long swig of an energy drink.
When I got home, everything seemed just as I’d left it—except for the shiny, sky-blue capsule now taking up a chunk of my room. Yesterday, in the future, I’d been using my beloved test Mark 9, so this was definitely a downgrade. The Mark 3 would have to do for now, though.
Oddly enough, I remembered they had skipped the Mark 3 model. But hey, nothing bad’s going to happen. I’m sure of it. I checked the nutrient supply, and they filled it to the brim. Better safe than sorry.
With some time left before the launch, I flopped down on my trusty sofa and tuned in to Katherine’s stream. She was perched on the edge of her seat in her familiar old room, a neatly made bed behind her, passionately gesturing as she talked about the game’s release and her big plans.
This younger Katherine had already dyed her hair purple and was rocking a cute pink hoodie. Maybe that’s why I was among her select few fans—most people preferred streamers with less clothing. Then again, the game’s devious developers had made sure female characters would have their own style of “armor.” She’d be revealing plenty. Reaching behind the sofa, I grabbed a beer, cracking it open with my teeth. They’re there? Old habits die hard, I guess.
Katherine’s stream and a beer on my sofa. If we weren’t both younger, I’d almost forget I’d traveled twenty years back. Maybe I should contact her in the game? No, that would be creepy. Maybe I’ll just run into her at the marketplace… And completely blow it, as usual. That wouldn’t be stalkerish at all, right? Right? Just as Katherine disappeared into her capsule, I was gearing up to dive in myself.
<table style="background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 75, 122, 0.93); margin: 10px auto; width: 90%; border: none; border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 2px; padding: 0">
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<td style="text-align: center; margin: 3px; padding: 5px; color: rgba(218, 213, 206, 1) !important; border: 1px solid rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25) !important; background-image: initial; background-size: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1)">[Welcome back, Charlie.]</td>
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As I counted down the seconds, I closed my eyes and mentally braced myself for the grind. If I was going to save the world, I’d have to outwork every other player. As the timer hit zero, the game launched.
The first thing I noticed was the intense, fresh scent of a pine forest—so real it was unmistakable. I felt the weight of my body, the rough dirt beneath me, and a gentle breeze on my face. Then I opened my eyes and… saw something that shouldn’t have been there. My hands were a lot smaller than they should’ve been, but the real shock was… a cleavage.
Why the hell am I a girl?!