Planet Earth, Year 1 A.I. (April 2023 C.E., 3 weeks after System Integration.)

  “Urgh,” I mumble as I’m awakened from my slumber by a bright light from outside. I sit up and rub my eyelids, trying to adjust to whatever unholy sensation just assailed my poor peepers.

  I turn to the clock in the room… Wait, six thirty? Did I oversleep through the entire day? No, it’s six thirty AM. So why is it so gods-damned bright outside–

  “Ow! Son of a biscuit-eater!” I mutter under my tongue as another bright flash explodes right in front of me. I shift from my normal vision to my [Ethersight], hoping that whatever infernal monstrosity is trying to blind me doesn’t also have some way to obscure this sense.

  It doesn’t. Whatever it is is a bit taller than I am, human-shaped, and definitely female. It smacks me on the shoulder with its fingers, completely ignoring my feeble attempts to dodge. The blow stings, dealing about thirty damage, but the intruder doesn’t persist. If anything, it— she?— is standing in front of my bed, gloating. I then realize exactly who it is.

  “Lindsey, what was that about?” I look around the rest of Chloe’s and my small dorm room. “And where is Chloe, anyway?”

  “Up and at breakfast, as you should be. Or did you forget that you have a meeting at seven AM sharp?”

  My eyes snap open wide, though my vision is still fuzzy as a result of Lindsey’s antics. “Oh shit! Is that today?”

  “Yes, it is today, and you need to be up and at ‘em! Nicholas was extremely clear that you need to be on-time and ready to begin. Unless you want to be subject to Alexey’s pleasure for the rest of the day?”

  I shudder at the thought. Alexey Ivankov, former Master Sergeant in the United States Army, has more experience on the front line than I have in life. Honorable, forthright, disciplined, and the picture of what an upstanding soldier is. The type that gets paraded about as the best of the military, who others look up to and aspire to be, who encourages recruits to enlist in the service. In terms of the System, he’s already a veteran of dozens of battles against monsters in just the span of three weeks, and is getting real close to Level 30.

  He’s not quick to anger by military standards, but he spits the worst venom imaginable when someone does inflame his ire. I’ve had the displeasure of witnessing it once, and I don’t ever want to be on the receiving end.

  “Ma’am, No Ma’am!” I say, snapping to my feet in a single fluid motion. “I’ll be there right away!”

  I grab my battle garb and begin donning it, thinking about that dream I had about my past life. I laugh at myself. I was definitely far more shameless about nudity and my body as an artificial lifeform than as a human. Probably a result of growing up in a culture where nudity is seen as taboo.

  I get my armor on in the span of five minutes, Lindsey helping me with the fastening in the back. At least my hair, now trimmed down to just above shoulder level, is still neat enough that I don’t need to waste more than a few seconds brushing it and tying it up into a bun. Seven minutes after I start my hurried rush to prepare myself, I’m grabbing my [Modular Blowgun], pouch of [Ether Bullets], and racing out the door.

  I’m all but in a sprint as I force my way down the halls and down to the mess hall. It’s not massive, seating for about a hundred soldiers and other support staff. Even so, it’s nearly empty, with only Lindsey and three others in addition to the half dozen kitchen crew members working in the back of the room.

  There’s not much left for me to eat, but I scarf down two sausage patties and about three eggs’ worth of scrambled eggs and ketchup before I hurry outside and rush across the hastily-constructed complex. More and more, it’s starting to look like a military facility, which unfortunately means plenty of extra security protocols and checkpoints that I have to move through, even while still on the complex.

  I hand my ID card over to the guard on duty, who gives it a cursory glance before I’m waved through the checkpoint and into the science building. At least, that’s what it’s officially and formally known as. There’s supposed to be a dedication to officially name it after some scientist or another. Personally, I hope they name this facility after Katherine Johnson, in honor of her tireless and often forgotten about role in enabling us to travel to space during the 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s.

  Especially since, if my research proves fruitful, we won’t just be sending humans to the moon. We’ll be heading to Mars, then the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, and from then even leaving the solar system altogether to chart new stars and recruit allies against whatever threat my creators envisioned was lurking behind the System.

  That’s what Madison mentioned in that vision. There’s some malevolent will beyond the System, and I— the old me, at least— had some sort of power separate from the System. That, understanding and developing Ethertech, glyph decoding, crafting more armor and weapons for myself and Chloe. Just one more shovelful on the mountainous shit sandwich that I get to work through over the next six months.

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  “Hey, Sera,” Chloe says. “Enjoy your restful morning, O’ sleeping princess?”

  I flip her the bird. “Oh, yeah, the dreams were real nice, right until Lindsey shot liquid light straight into my eyes to wake me up in the most agonizing way possible.”

  Yes, I am well aware that Lindsey is still very much behind me as my chief handler. I don’t need to see her face to know that she’s grinning, proud of how she nearly blinded me this morning. Maybe not quite blinded, but I’ve still got spots in my eyes. Spots that completely vanish as Chloe touches me with her wand, imbuing a bit of her healing magic into all the various wounds and aches I’ve managed to accumulate.

  Lindsey practically begged for the role as my chief handler, probably because she loves it. I swear, she has a bit of a sadistic streak. And I’m not at all sure if she really just sees it as her responsibility to haze me as a new initiate in the forces, or if she wants something more with me as well. I guess a lack of being able to read and understand people is one thing I kept from my past life.

  We walk into the main laboratory. Nicholas, the Major on duty— and as I was informed yesterday, the newly appointed vice commandant— is standing in full dress uniform along with another member of command. Even higher ranked and more decorated than he is. I don’t see any actual stars that would suggest a general, though I don’t know military insignias well enough to know if I’m looking at a colonel or a lieutenant colonel.

  Chloe and I turn to the unknown officer and offer him a salute, doing our best impression of proper military posture as he looks us over. Despite the fact that the senior officer looks to be about fifty, with a military-spec buzz cut, there’s no hint of inappropriateness in the way he looks at us. A bit of bemusement due to the fact we’re both in System-registered armor instead of proper military uniforms, but he is disciplined enough to take it in stride.

  “At ease, soldiers,” he says.

  I exhale.

  “I am Colonel Tom Wilson, assuming temporary command over the military situation here in the city and its immediate surroundings. I’ve already heard much of your skills, your service, and your accomplishments to this point, volunteering yourself in service to your country, and indeed, your service to humanity as a whole. And I’m pleased with what I have seen and heard in the reports.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I say.

  My eyes dart to the man in civilian attire seated at a nearby table. He stands and offers Colonel Wilson a salute before sitting back down himself.

  “This here is Dr. Ray Reynolds. He’s a linguistics scholar and professor living up near Chicago. More importantly, he’s my old college roommate, and I’ve called in a favor and had him flown down here on the government dime. I’ve been made aware that you need someone with linguistics expertise to advance your knowledge of the System and what you have been calling Ethertech?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say. “During our time in the dungeon, Chloe and I found two identical books of glyphs— the language of the System, and of the magic it provides. However, short of testing thousands of individual glyphs, I don’t know what most of them mean. Not to mention, there’s a lot of grammar and sentence structure that I need to be able to dissect in order to really make the sort of advancements I’d like to move forward with.”

  “A completely new language, and one tied to literal magic?” Dr. Reynolds asks. “You’d said more or less the same thing to me earlier, Tom, but hearing her say it so confidently. Normally, I’d dismiss such outrageous claims, as the ravings of a madwoman. But as I suspect is true of many scientists and philosophers, we are being forced to reconsider everything we thought was utter horseshit and realize that what was beyond the pale a month ago is now reality.”

  “I said the same thing to Chloe a few days after this all started,” I say.

  “I agree with both parts of this statement,” Nicholas says. “I have seen the power of these… glyphs, as Ms. Mortensen calls them, many times. Both on the battlefield and in the wilds. And I have an incident report here in my hand–” he grabs a stack of papers from the table next to him as he says this “–about how Ms. Mortensen went down to the shooting range with a weapon of her own design, fired a single shot, and completely shredded one of the training dummies. Only barely didn’t tear the entire dummy off the range, stand and all.”

  “Surely that’s an exaggeration,” Colonel Wilson says.

  “I have the report right here.”

  Colonel Wilson starts to read the note. His eyes widen bit by bit as he goes over everything, including the margins, at least twice. And I can’t help but have a smug grin on my face by the time he’s done. Yes, my theories are half-baked and need a lot more work behind them, but I’m onto something, and I know I’m onto it. Something far greater and grander than anything this planet has ever seen before.

  “I… see. Well then, I think there’s no more need for my presence at this time. Major Richardson, I leave the oversight in your hands. And I don’t think I need to remind you of this, but I will anyway. Don’t. Screw. This. Up.”

  I shudder at the words, even though they’re not directed at me.

  “Yes, Sir,” Nicholas says. True to his position, he doesn’t flinch even the slightest bit at the colonel’s words.

  “A hundred and eighty days, not an hour more. And let me be clear,” the colonel continues, now looking at me. “I’m taking a big gamble on you, Ms. Mortensen. If this doesn’t pan out, it’s all our asses on the line.” He exits the room without another word.

  I sigh as Nicholas follows behind him, and I can’t help but wonder. How did I, Seraphina Mortensen, nobody from the shady side of town, proud anti-authoritarian and hater of pigs of all stripes, manage to get myself wrapped up in a government research facility as part of the gods-damned army? Goddesses help us all.