The Story So Far:


    The year was 2038. Stan Cooper lived on a collective farm in California. It was a typical job for young people like him, doing their mandatory national youth service years before college. He saw little point in his work until he got involved with Thousand Tales, a video game run by an artificial intelligence called Ludo. The game was just entertainment for most players, and it was hardly the only one around. But for rich people it offered a special service: a form of digital immortality called brain uploading. Stan had no hope of ever affording that. Still, he began doing favors for the AI, which took him on real-world errands.


    His work inside and outside the game world made him some unusual contacts. But it also caused his old friends to question his loyalties... and criminals to threaten his life. Stan left them all behind, to seek a new start. He arrived at a town floating just offshore of the Free State of Cuba, to work directly for the AI''s growing corporate empire. Would he sink or swim there?


    South of Cuba, 2038 December


    The young man''s first steps on Castor Colony were unsteady, since he expected the ground to move like the ship that took him there. The floating, artificial island did sway and vibrate, but due less to the Caribbean Sea beneath it than to the thousands of people walking, working, and playing where nature had said there was nowhere to live. Stan hefted the backpack containing nearly all he owned and crossed the dock to get started.


    The colony was a sort of jungle gym or raft made from an oil rig, a retired cargo ship, a set of purpose-built "seastead" platforms offering a flat surface well above the waves, and a flotilla of boats that rearranged and jostled constantly. He smelled something baking until the wind shifted and brought him a scent of seaweed instead. Under his feet the ground was concrete reflecting the warmth of an early winter day. Stan left the dockside view behind as he got in line beneath a canopy, which led him to the entry gate.


    Minutes later he faced an automated kiosk where a bland digital face appeared on the screen, asking, "Papers? Reason for visiting?"


    Stan let it scan his US passport and eyes. He''d been coached on this moment, as on many other things over the last year. He took a deep breath and said, "Immigration."


    The face smiled. "Your record shows that you have provisional citizenship in the American Free States, and an employer. Welcome to Castor, newcomer. Respect the laws and earn your way." A gate clicked open for him and an ID card dropped into a slot.


    He''d expected to be quizzed in detail, even taken aside to talk with a human, but aside from the one dour guard ignoring everyone from a central booth, it seemed there wasn''t enough manpower to interrogate everyone who wanted in. Stan officially entered Castor''s territory with no fanfare, no oath or signature.


    Now, how was he going to live here?


    Beyond the entry chokepoint was the district called Libertalia. What he could see of it was one big platform, a crowded public square lined with shops. Stan tried to find a place where he could slink into a corner and just observe, but everywhere he moved there was a current of people eager to get somewhere. He let himself pinball around the square for a few minutes just to take it all in. Booths selling drinks competed with one that sold illegal drugs -- illegal almost anywhere else. A brothel labeled "Congress" faced off against a beleaguered little church. A souvenir shop advertised knives, synthetic diamonds, and pornography whose very titles made his eyes bug out. Stan walked past that one feeling shaken. This ongoing low-level riot was completely different than the Community he''d called home just a week ago, where everything was wholesome and quiet and neatly regimented.


    A trio of self-proclaimed guides tried to talk the new arrivals into hiring them, and a few others were already wandering off with clients. One of those was a naked woman, he belatedly realized. "Sure, why not?" he muttered.


    One of the remaining guides was dressed in spandex like a superhero violating at least two US copyrights. "Greetings! Do you need assistance, good sir?"


    "Ah, no. I''m heading to my job." Stan left before the sales pitch could continue.


    At one end of the main Libertalia platform stood a building decorated like a castle, with cannons and pennants. The flags included not just the AFS banner and the Cuba state flag, but the one that made him proud: wings of red, green and blue on a silver field. The mark of the new boss, the master of the game.


    #


    Stan walked into a small lobby with an elevator and stairwell. A human clerk there was intent on a screen behind his podium. Stan grinned; the man was busy gaming. Stan said, "Do you play while you''re waiting for people?"


    He startled and looked up, mouth twitching faintly. "Sometimes. Hi. Says here that you''re a new employee?"


    "That''s right. I''m here to work on the VR rigs."


    "Good. Nothing''s broken right now, but they all need a checkup. Excuse me." A mother with a gaggle of kids had arrived. The clerk hopped off of his stool, surprising Stan with how short he was, and left for a moment to bring them to a table. He returned and said, "My name''s Dahl. Looks like you''re not on duty until tomorrow."


    Stan was a little rattled from seeing the customers walking in along the same way he''d come, but had the sense not to make fun of Dahl''s name. "This place is a stone''s throw from all the drugs and gambling and nudity, and it''s family-friendly?"


    The clerk gave a wan smile. "When you live this close you can''t afford to throw stones, considering that what we offer in the basement is controversial too. If you want, have a look around before work. You might ask for VR pod time."


    "Thanks." Stan sat down on one of the benches for a moment and studied the place. There was a logo for Thousand Tales, the game that was this place''s whole reason for existing. The tables were more crowded than he''d seen at the franchise in Mexico, and the decor was more nautical, but the restaurant and gaming center was another Fun Zone just the same. Already he felt out of place on Castor because of the constant chaotic bustle, but this place was a tourist attraction. It was meant for bewildered newcomers. Stan took a seat at a bench with only three seats free, and watched the games and stories playing out on the many wall-mounted screens. Dragon battles, a party of fantasy explorers, a starship bridge. Some customers were passively watching these while they ate, but most were more intent on steering the action using handheld tablets.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    He watched them for a minute while he tried to relax. There was little point in putting things off longer, though; the boss was waiting. He pulled out his own personal gaming pad, a Talisman Mk. II with a sturdy blue case, and turned it on to say, "Hello, Ludo; I''ve arrived."


    A man appeared on the screen, with wind-blown blue hair and a dark cape that glittered with stars. He gave Stan a wide grin and said, "You came all this way here and you still want to play, huh?"


    "Of course, sir. I''m here because of you."


    Stan had been living at Youth Community Center #6 in Imperial Valley, California, doing his two years of required national service after high school. He''d been coasting. He began playing Thousand Tales and talking with Ludo, the Artificial Intelligence who ran it. Now he was thousands of miles away with a new job ahead and several burned bridges behind.


    Ludo said, "You''re the one that earned your way here. It looks like the boat arrived just minutes ago, so you came straight here instead of seeing your new home first. If you''re so eager, do you want to head for the VR pods? Gives you an excuse to see the hardware you''ll be working on, and you''re entitled to a certain amount of free time in them as part of your pay. Though, try not to say the word ''entitled'' around here; it''s not very popular."


    "Okay."


    The Fun Zone was a three-level building. Stan walked around to get a feel for the place. There was the big main room that was basically a restaurant, with one giant screen occupying the back wall like a theater. The entryway, he''d assumed was just for customers to wait in, but on second view his eyes went wide. There were cleverly hidden, segmented panels worked into the walls and ceiling, as though there were hidden cameras besides the obvious one, and as though steel doors could drop into place and hidden weapons emerge on a second''s notice. At first Stan laughed the idea off as paranoia, but... that was probably exactly what the room was for. That and helping the air conditioning.


    Above the main room''s low ceiling was the VR floor. Stan took the stairs next to the elevator, and arrived in another entryway room with more screens on the carpeted walls. A list showed info on the pods'' current occupants, mostly with nicknames; someone going by AtomSmasher was listed as "Assaulting a starship" for instance. Another screen showed elaborate VR tutorial instructions. He was neither drunk nor pregnant, so he should be good to go, but he paid close attention anyway to what the customers were being told. Basic safety, how to attach the various straps, how to move without hurting himself. What he didn''t see was a human clerk here to help him. "I guess that''s my job?" he said aloud.


    A light blinked for pod #3. A man walked out of one of the alcoves lining the hall ahead and made for the exit.


    "Cool outfit," Stan said. The guy had a sort of hybrid of medieval tunic and dive skin, down to the knee. Stan had seen similar things on people here, especially the ones who seemed to know what they were doing. In contrast, Stan still had the standard-issue shirt and pants that marked him as a Community kid.


    "Thanks." The player left Stan to take over the VR pod he''d been using.


    Stan reached room #3 and brushed its curtain aside. The hardware filled most of the soundproofed space with a set of rods and motors and a tube that could swivel around to any angle. He climbed in, a little weirded out that there was no attendant, and hit a button.


    #


    Instead of a world selection menu, he appeared on the deck of a fantasy airship that soared above a forest. A woman with a pair of bat wings on her back removed her tricorner hat and bowed. "Good morning, mister Cooper. It''s nice to meet the new crewmember."


    "You''re... miss Cassini, I think? Ludo gave me some basic info, but I was a little busy in the days leading up to my coming here."


    Wait a minute, Stan thought. He raised one hand in a gestured that told the game world to scan her for information. Text appeared in his vision, saying:


    [Sonia Cassini


    PUBLIC INFO


    Class: Merchant


    Faction Flag: Brightmoon Privateers


    Note: Wanderer of Two Or Three Seas!]


    If she''d been a mere Non-Player Character he would''ve gotten a report on what level of AI she had -- it was a perk he''d earned -- but he''d been hoping to somehow confirm his suspicion about the new boss. "Are you an uploader?"


    "That''s right. It''s not a problem for you, is it? And call me Sonia."


    "It''s not. I''ve made some friends among the native AIs. So, I''m Stan. I was expecting somebody who could walk around the building she''s managing. You use robots, then?"


    "I''ve got access to some. Now, your first few weeks you can expect to be useless, but try to learn. Something you''ll have to understand is that I''ve got sensors everywhere, but I''m only really available sporadically. You and the other employees have to be seen so that the shop doesn''t get mistaken for being abandoned. Or vulnerable."


    Being an uploader meant digital immortality -- getting your brain converted to a digital format and being stored in the game world -- but it had drawbacks. Besides not having a physical presence in reality unless she piloted a robot, Stan had learned, she probably only experienced eight or so hours in a day. The processors just didn''t run human minds as efficiently as actual meat brains did. He looked around the airship, which was crewed by some generic-looking pirates in brown and gold. "This is your office, then? Which part of Talespace are we in?"


    "Midgard, the main fantasy world. I should let you get on with playing. So, show up tomorrow to start work. Any burning questions that can''t wait for e-mail?"


    Stan laughed. The first time he''d met one of these rich immortals, he''d jumped at the chance to curry favor with the guy. Now, Stan actually had things to do besides wish for an easy life. Not that he''d turn down uploading, if he got the chance. He tried to think in diplomatic terms. "I want to ask a career question about uploaders, but I don''t want to offend you."


    The skyboat captain said, "I don''t offend easily; shoot."


    He said, "If regular humans like me are just here because customers can''t yet grasp the idea of an all-machine business, then how long will it be before I''m obsolete?"


    "Between you and me? A couple years at this place. Both for money reasons and, like you''re already thinking, because of what our guests think and assume about what it means to run a business. But if what Ludo tells me about your ability to learn and adapt is true, then you''ll never run out of ways to be useful."