I strode over to Patches’ bed and fumbled with the controls, hands shaking, until the shimmering field stopped. His eyes opened and he faced me, giving a big toothy yawn before hanging his tongue out to dry. Everything that I’d been feeling, the rising panic of things gone crazy, swept away in an instant.

 

“Good morning, Patches. Daddy’s been having a super strange day. But now you’re awake again and you’re gonna make him better, aren’t you bud?”

 

I paused, thinking in my head how I must look. A grizzled veteran with biceps the size of basketballs practically baby-sitting his dog. Patches cocked his head and barked. I patted his head and stroked his back side.

 

“Good boy, Patches. Good boy!”

 

This time, when I went out into the hallway, I had both Patches and a plan.

 

Get out of the building.

 

Everything I had seen on my first foray through the hall had been high level chaos. But it couldn’t be like that everywhere, could it?

 

I slowly made my way to that first door, looking this way and that for any sign of the dragon I’d seen before. My ears strained, trying to pick up any indication that I was about to face down with some high-powered danger.

 

I heard nothing.

 

Curiosity got the better of me and I pushed the buttons to the apartment, be fully ready to push them again if I caught even a glimpse of vicious dragon.

 

But the door slid open just halfway before sparking out and losing power. Beyond the door I saw that a large hole had been torn into the side of the apartment, and that the dragon was gone.

 

Whether the hole was there because the dragon had spawned inside the apartment and had to get out, or because it had spawned outside and decided to find a snack within, I didn’t know.

 

I didn’t enjoy either possibility very much.

 

It did change my mind a little bit about how to go forward, though. If I was going to head out into the wild blue yonder, it might be a good idea to get us fed and to stock up on any and all supplies I could carry. To sell if not to use.

 

“Come on Patches. Change of plans,” I said. He woofed softly in reply, sniffing around the place and taking in the new reality he’d been thrust into.

 

We jogged back to our apartment, and I stabbed buttons until the door shuttled aside. I took a quick peek to look for giant holes in the wall, and possibly dragons. Then, finding nothing, we went inside.

 

I walked back over to the kitchen area with him by my side and together we poked and prodded different panels, lights, and switches until finally we found his dog food.

 

Wet meat in cans, unchanged, and smelling delicious. My stomach groaned. Yeah, I needed some grub as well.

 

I plopped it out on the floor and Patches went to town on the gravy beef chunks, digging at it sideways and with his tongue.

 

For myself, I managed to plink and prod a little more, finally getting a section of wall to open and reveal the contents of my refrigerator . . . and a little pink octopus. As I stared at it, the thing stood up and did a little dance on the middle shelf between my tortilla shells and a large plastic bowl of shredded lettuce.

 

“C-A-L-A MARI, the food of the elite! Good morning, DIRK STONE. Boy, you sure look hungry. Would you be interested in purchasing some enhancements today?”

 

I looked back at Patches, who was watching the octopus in the same manner as he did his squeaky toys, and I knew that I wasn’t going crazy. I turned to the little guy and seized him in one hand.

 

“What are you? What the hell is going on?”

 

A short squealing noise pierced my ears, and I dropped the guy back to the middle shelf.

 

“My word, that is not how I would treat a vendor. Not if I were in your shoes. I am Calamari, and I am the multipurpose vendor that exists in all claimed bases of operation. As a GUEST of PRESTIGE GAMING you must understand that I am not here to harm you.”

 

I cocked my head at him, examining him critically.

 

“I am just here to help streamline, smooth out, and slick down your gameplay. And besides, as a vendor, I’m practically impervious to harm! As the holder of 1,500 standard credits, it seems like you might at least want to take a glance at my menu?”

 

Fifteen hundred credits. Sounded like a lot of money. Especially for a broke S.O.B. like me.

 

"How the heck do I have money? What, did I knock over a bank or something?"

 

Calamari doubled over and laughed, proceeding to roll back and forth.

 

"Oh, DIRK STONE, you are such a funny guy. As if you didn't know. 1500 credits are what every player starts with in Prestige Gaming's Cloudcraft Revolution. 1500 credits, or coins, or emeralds, or dollars. Whatever fits the genre that you have selected!”

 

He winked conspiratorially.

 

"Some lucky few even get a free card at creation."

 

“Then where’s the cash?”

 

“Your credit counter is embedded in your palm chip. Take a look!"

 

I turned my hands up and examined them closely. It was almost impossible to see but there was a tiny off-color section of the center of my palm that was glowing the faintest blush of blue. It was a symbol; a C with lines through it. Below that was the tiny number 1500.

 

“Just press your palm against the cost of the item, and voila! You’re square.”

 

“Square?” I asked. Calamari nodded frantically.

 

I shook my head. All of this in-the-game stuff was finally making some sense.

 

And yet there were a lot of things that didn't add up.

 

Everyone knew about Prestige Gaming's massive nano-AR complex out in the New Mexican desert. But that was super expensive, a sort of year-round sold-out mecca for Augmented Reality fiends who liked to push their actual bodies into the action.

 

Some of that action was battle. And Prestige Gaming apparently had that fleshed out extremely well. Other people seemed to just want to use the system to bone their wildest fantasies, whatever those may be.

 

Prestige Gaming had that fleshed out also.

 

Always sounded amazing but I never had the money for it. Not the brain for it either unless they let me bring Patches. If something banged loud enough and I flipped out, well, I wasn’t sure about what safety protocols they utilized, but I was pretty worried that I might really hurt a park-goer.

 

And all of that was beyond the point anyways. We were hundreds of miles from the Prestige site in New Mexico. There was no way I’d stumbled into the park in my sleep, or that someone had dragged me in there as a prank.

 

My brain whirled, thinking over all the zany ways I might have been put in here. And none of them held water.

 

A tingling sensation flickered over my brain and a notification box popped into my vision.

 

YOUR WOEFULLY INEPT BRAIN HAS CHUGGED TO LIFE, DELIVERING ONTO YOU AN INSIGHT! USE IT WELL . . .

 

What in the world?

 

"Screw you," I yelled at the air. "Someone is about to get a woefully inept boot up where the sun don’t shine!"

 

Patches whined and I sucked in a breath. Nope. Not gonna go crazy. Not gonna happen. A vague image of the night I got drunk and threw a man through a bar room window played in my head.

 

That was before Patches. I was good now.

 

I settled and noticed that Calamari had his bulbous head cocked just like Patches did.

 

"Are you all right, DIRK STONE?"

 

I sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay. The game system said I'm an idiot, but also told me I got an insight. What's that all about?"

 

Calamari hopped and did a jig. "Oh, wonderful news, DIRK STONE. Just will yourself to use the insight, and the system will give you a special clue to help you with your current situation."

 

I raised my right eyebrow. That sounded suspiciously easy. But, what the heck, I gave it a try.

 

LOST AND CONFUSED, YOU WANDER ABOUT, TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE. WHERE YOU ARE! CALAMARI SEEMS TO BE CONNECTED DIRECTLY TO THE SYSTEM. MAYBE, I DUNNO, YOU COULD ASK HIM?

 

I was starting to get pissed off again. I could feel the condescension oozing off of whatever computer wrote that for me. And it didn’t help my mood out any that they had a point.

 

"Hey, Calamari, who am I and where am I?"

 

"You are DIRK STONE and you are in GOJIRA-X."

 

I growled.

 

"No, look, listen. I want to know who I am and where I am in real life. I want to know what the fuck is going on. How many people are stuck here with me? How do I get out? Tell me everything you can."

 

Calamari tapped a pink tentacle tip to his pink chin.

 

"We-e-e-e-ll, I am forbidden from saying many things, but I think this might help you. You are Kevin Daley, and we are currently in the Colorado Springs branch of Prestige Gaming."

 

I stared at him. "That doesn't make sense. There is just one branch of Prestige Gaming. And that's over in New Mexico."

 

"There are now over one thousand two hundred seventy-one branches, DIRK STONE. Now one thousand two-hundred seventy-three! Exciting, huh? And that number is increasing dramatically."

 

A very sick feeling settled into my stomach. The same feeling I got when backing away from an IED back in the day. That feeling that I might be better off just ending it then and there.

 

Patches padded over and sat next to me, looking up with glassy dark eyes.

 

"Yeah, buddy. I'll get you more. Just give me a sec."

 

I turned back to Calamari.

 

"Alright. Continue."

 

"You are one of a current 80 million players registered into the system. We are experiencing a record number of sign ups and dropouts, though, so I cannot be more specific."

 

I curled my hands, resisting the urge to scream.

 

"How do I drop out? I'm guessing that's how you quit the system?"

 

Calamari did another dance and a twirl. "That's easy! The most common method for guests to leave the system over the last twelve hours has been DEATH."

 

The way he monotone-screamed my name at me was annoying. But when he did it with that word, I couldn't help myself. I reflexively reared back and punched my refrigerator. White electricity sparked and the fridge sighed and clonked out.

 

Calamari shrieked.

 

"DIRK STONE, you have destroyed the merchant marker of this commercial zone. I must go."

 

He poofed away, a small cloud of mist all that marked his passage.

 

Crap.

 

My stomach groaned and I glanced back at the replicator. Well, I had credits after all. I could use it.

 

But those enhancements . . . and Prestige Gaming being everywhere?

 

Honestly, at this point I felt relieved. I finally had a bit of understanding on what was happening. And DEATH was probably some mega-dramatic system answer to make me crap my shorts. If I hadn't lost my cool, he would have had a bunch of other answers. Of that I was 99% sure.

 

For now I just needed to eat.

 

I tapped at the buttons, and was relieved when a bowl dropped out and some pink goo rose up inside it. It didn’t look great, but it smelled amazing. Like meatloaf with thick brown gravy. I dug in, retched at the actual taste, groaned when I noticed that I was down a hundred credits, then contemplated the outside.

 

It was time for me to get a leg up on all of this game stuff and use my new powers to bust my way out of here.

 

And maybe, just maybe, find a decent sandwich.