Reality assembled itself in pieces.

  First came the skeleton—wireframe light etching against absolute darkness. Then texture, flooding empty spaces like paint dumped onto canvas. Sound crashed last, a tsunami of information that drove Kai Reeves to his knees, palms pressed against ears that shouldn't exist anymore.

  Too much. Too fast.

  His body felt wrong—lighter, his bones seemingly replaced with carbon fiber, blood with quicksilver. The ground beneath him solidified last, abstract concept transforming into tangible surface between heartbeats.

  For a microsecond before the world materialized, he glimpsed something underneath—a gridwork of expanding lines, numbers and symbols flickering along their length. Not random noise but organized patterns his mind couldn't quite grasp.

  Structures briefly appeared transparent, revealing frameworks of glowing blue coordinates before textures painted themselves over the geometry.

  The glimpse vanished, reality snapping into place with the finality of a puzzle piece locking home. Kai blinked hard, trying to recapture what he'd seen, but it was gone—if it had ever been there at all.

  Someone was screaming nearby. Took him several seconds to confirm it wasn't him.

  "First-timer," a voice said. "Look at him, classic upload shock."

  Kai forced his eyes open.

  Two figures stood a few feet away, their features coalescing as his vision calibrated. Man and woman in matching gray uniforms, watching him with the detached interest of morticians appraising a fresh corpse.

  "He'll adjust," the woman said, tapping something on a transparent tablet. "They all do, eventually. Consciousness adaptation typically stabilizes within the current iteration parameters."

  "Current what?" The words made no sense, yet something about the phrasing nagged like a splinter under skin.

  The woman glanced up, something flashing behind her eyes—surprise, quickly masked. "Current integration parameters," she corrected smoothly. "Standard onboarding terminology."

  She turned to her companion, lowering her voice. "Probable audio processing anomaly. Flag for routine recalibration."

  Kai pushed himself up, legs quivering like a newborn deer's. The world still rendered in real-time around him, edges too sharp, colors too vivid. The air buzzed against his skin, carrying information his brain couldn't decode.

  "Where—" His voice cracked. Throat felt dry though he couldn't remember being thirsty. "Where am I?"

  The man snorted. "Exactly where you signed up to be, young man. Server Nova. Your new home." He turned to his companion. "Another debt upload?"

  She nodded without looking up. "Family couldn't pay. Standard transfer contract."

  Memory crashed through the disorientation. His mother's face, pale and drawn. The corporate rep at their kitchen table, tablet pushed forward for signatures. His little sister crying in the next room, sobs muffled by thin apartment walls.

  It'll just be for five years, his mother had said. They say it's like a game in there. You'll hardly notice the time passing.

  Five years in the system to clear his family's debt. Five years in this... place. The weight of his choice settled onto his shoulders like concrete.

  "Orientation's that way." The woman pointed toward a towering structure of glass and light pulsing in impossible patterns. "Try not to get yourself deleted before you even start."

  They walked away, already forgetting his existence. His first steps were unsteady, like learning to walk all over again. Everything felt simultaneously too real and not real enough—hyper-detailed yet slightly wrong, like a dream with saturation cranked to eleven.

  Server Nova.

  He'd heard rumors about virtual cities. Everyone had. Digital realms where people lived, worked, played... some by choice, others by necessity.

  Never expected to be in one, another piece of human consciousness translated into data packets and code strings.

  The street beneath his feet hummed with subtle energy. Above, the sky stretched in an impossible gradient of shifting hues crossed with binary code that flowed like rivers. Artificial stars pulsed in patterns no astronomy could explain.

  As the initial shock faded, his surroundings began making more sense. A transit hub. People—no, users—moved purposefully in all directions. Some walked, others rode hovering platforms that skimmed inches above the ground. Their faces ranged from vacant veteran indifference to wide-eyed tourist wonder to the hollow stare of fellow debt transfers.

  He reached out, half expecting his hand to pass through rendered reality, but fingers found solid surfaces as he passed—brick and glass as tangible as anything from the life he'd left behind. The texture felt right but somehow amplified—like touching things for the first time with virgin skin.

  A notification flashed in his peripheral vision:

  [WELCOME TO SERVER NOVA. PROCEED TO ORIENTATION FOR SYSTEM INTEGRATION.]

  It vanished before he could react. Having the system communicate directly into his vision felt like someone whispering in his ear when he thought he was alone. Unsettling.

  The crowd parted around him, some giving wide berth. The newcomer's awkward gait marked him as fresh meat. He tried mimicking the fluid confidence of regular users but failing miserably. His legs still belonged to someone else.

  A deafening screech cut through ambient noise. Kai turned toward the sound along with everyone else.

  Someone shot past at ridiculous speed, a blur leaving a trail of light in their wake. The figure banked hard around a corner, spinning in mid-air before landing gracefully back on what looked like... roller skates?

  Before Kai could process what he'd seen, three more figures zipped past in pursuit, wheels throwing sparks as they cornered. One launched off a railing, soaring overhead in a perfect arc that defied gravity. Another phased through a solid barrier like it was made of smoke, emerging on the other side without breaking stride.

  The crowd reacted with mixed annoyance and excitement. Some scattered to avoid the commotion while others pulled out devices to record the spectacle.

  "Damn couriers," someone muttered nearby. "Think they own the transit lanes."

  "That was Vex leading the pack," another voice replied with clear admiration. "The Slipstream crew. Nobody touches them on the speed routes."

  Kai stood transfixed. He'd seen skaters before, even ridden skateboards as a kid. Nothing like this. Nothing so fluid, fast, impossibly vibrant.

  These skaters didn't just move through the environment—they bent it, transformed it, used it in ways he couldn't have imagined. Their bodies left trails of light like comets burning pathways across his vision.

  "You're blocking the flow, newbie," someone growled, shoving past.

  He'd stopped in the middle of the walkway. His mind remained with the skaters as he forced himself forward, their motions replaying behind his eyes. The freedom in their movement stood in stark contrast to his awkward adjustments.

  The orientation tower loomed closer, its entrance a maw of light that seemed to pull people in rather than simply admit them. From inside, a hum of voices and information spilled onto the street.

  He joined the queue of other users waiting to enter. Most appeared as dazed as he felt—fresh uploads trying with varying degrees of success to hide it. Some stood straighter, made exaggerated gestures testing new digital bodies. Others didn't bother with pretense, gawking openly at everything.

  "First day?"

  He turned to find a young woman about his age standing behind him. Her hair was a riot of purple and green, shifting colors as she moved. Unlike the corporate drones who'd greeted his arrival, her eyes held genuine interest.

  "That obvious?"

  She grinned. "You've got that 'my-body-isn't-real-anymore' look. Don't worry, the dissonance fades after a few days." She extended a hand. "I'm Zoe. Third reupload."

  Kai shook her hand, surprised by how normal it felt. "Reupload?"

  "Yeah. Some of us keep coming back." She shrugged. "Reality's overrated. What's your story? Corporate debt? Medical procedure? Or just a vacation from meat space?"

  "Debt transfer," Kai said, the admission sticking in his throat.

  Zoe's expression softened. "Tough break. Contract length?"

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

  "Five years."

  She whistled low. "Long haul. Well, best advice I can give? Find something you're good at. Quick. System doesn't support freeloaders for long."

  The line moved forward, bringing them closer to the entrance. Through the doorway, a vast atrium filled with floating screens and holographic guides came into view. Information literally swirled in the air, coalescing into images before dissolving and reforming elsewhere.

  "What about those skaters?" he asked, remembering the blur of motion from earlier. "The ones they called couriers."

  Zoe's eyebrows shot up. "Aiming high for a newbie. Couriers are elite—data runners, delivery specialists. Best ones write their own contracts." She gave him a skeptical once-over. "No offense, but you don't look like courier material. Those jobs go to users with experience, connections, or amazing natural ability."

  Kai bristled slightly, though he couldn't argue the point. "Everyone starts somewhere."

  "True enough." She nodded toward the entrance as they reached the front of the line. "Good luck in there. Orientation's mostly propaganda, but pay attention to the system navigation tutorials. Might save your life."

  Before he could thank her, Zoe was gone, moving through the entrance with the confidence of experience.

  He took a deep breath and followed.

  The orientation tower's interior overwhelmed even more than the street outside. Information literally floated in the air—text, images, and videos suspended throughout the massive space. New arrivals sorted into groups by uniformed guides.

  Some users wept openly, the reality of their upload finally sinking in. Others looked shell-shocked, eyes darting between displays searching for exits that didn't exist.

  "Upload ID?" A bored-looking man appeared before him, scanner in hand, face wearing the practiced vacancy of someone who'd performed the same task thousands of times.

  "I... don't know?"

  The man sighed. "Hold out your wrist."

  As Kai complied, the scanner passed over his forearm. A series of numbers briefly illuminated beneath his skin, then faded. His stomach lurched—like watching a barcode surface through flesh.

  "Kai Reeves. Debt transfer from MidCorp Financial. Five-year contract. Group seven, basic orientation and skill assessment." The man pointed to a floating blue number in the distance. "Over there. Don't be late or you'll repeat the cycle tomorrow."

  Kai weaved through clusters of new arrivals toward his assigned group. He passed a screen showing footage of different Server Nova sectors—gleaming corporate zones, entertainment districts pulsing with light, darker areas where digital infrastructure seemed to decay at the edges. Images shifted too quickly to focus on any single location.

  His assigned group gathered beneath the floating blue "7"—about twenty people in a rough circle, all looking equally disoriented. A woman in a crisp white uniform spoke, her voice cutting through ambient noise with artificial clarity.

  "—standard integration process takes approximately three hours. You'll receive your basic system permissions, housing assignment, and initial credit allowance. Those with employment contracts will proceed to specialized orientation afterward."

  Kai slipped into the group, trying not to draw attention to his late arrival. The guide continued without acknowledging him.

  "The most important rule in Server Nova is simple: the system governs all. Actions have consequences here, just as in the physical world. Harmful behavior toward other users or system infrastructure will result in penalties ranging from restricted access to complete removal."

  A holographic display appeared in the circle's center, showing a simplified Server Nova map. Districts lit up as she named them, boundaries shifting with each designation.

  "Commerce Sector provides employment opportunities for most standard users. Entertainment District offers recreation options for your off-hours. Residential Tiers are assigned based on your system status and contract type."

  The map zoomed out, showing dark areas at the periphery. Color drained from these regions, replaced by static and warning symbols.

  "Boundary zones are unstable and restricted. Do not attempt to access these areas without proper authorization." Her smile never wavered, but her tone hardened. "System enforcement is automatic and non-negotiable."

  The next hour passed in an information blur. How to access his personal menu. Housing assignment (a tiny unit in the lowest residential tier). Initial credit balance (barely enough for a week's necessities). Tutorials flickered through his consciousness, teaching basic system functions: purchases, problem reporting, transit navigation.

  Skills assessment proved most interesting. Each new arrival identified primary abilities from their physical existence. Most chose conventional options—programming, design, entertainment, service industry.

  When Kai's turn came, he hesitated.

  Before family debt consumed everything, he'd been a bike messenger. The only job he'd ever excelled at, the only time he'd felt truly alive—moving at speed, finding impossible routes through traffic, delivering packages that conventional services couldn't handle. City streets had been his playground, canvas and kingdom rolled into one.

  But that hardly seemed relevant here.

  "Physical courier experience," he said finally. "Bicycle delivery specialist."

  The guide raised an eyebrow but made a tablet notation. "Interesting. There may be analogous opportunities in the system, though most delivery work is handled by data streams. Still, some packages require... more creative transportation."

  After orientation concluded, the group dispersed. Some met corporate representatives, others friends or family already in the system. Kai stood alone, staring at the navigation marker blinking in his vision—another reminder of his new digital existence.

  But he didn't activate it immediately. Instead, he found himself drawn back toward the transit hub where he'd seen the skaters. Something about their freedom, their mastery over this digital environment, had ignited a spark of purpose.

  In a world where he owned nothing—not even his own time—they had looked like embodied possibility.

  Outside, Server Nova's perpetual twilight had deepened, illumination now coming primarily from buildings and data streams overhead. The transit hub's earlier frenetic pace had slowed to a more manageable current of bodies and information.

  Kai wandered, watching for any sign of the couriers. His new system access revealed things he'd missed before—navigation markers, user designations floating above heads, status indicators on businesses and transit routes.

  The digital world had gained depth, layers of information visible beneath its surface.

  A cluster of people had gathered near the hub's edge, watching something with interest. Kai pushed through to see what had captured their attention.

  On a wide concourse below, a race was underway. Four skaters rocketed around a circuit improvised from existing architecture. They ground along railings, launched off steps, carved impossible turns around pillars. Their movements transformed static environment into something alive, something meant for motion rather than mere existence.

  Unlike the skaters from earlier, these weren't couriers on a mission. They were putting on a show, each trick more elaborate than the last.

  One performer leapt from a bench to a rail, sliding in a shower of digital sparks before flipping backward to land perfectly on another rail running opposite.

  The spectators cheered. Credits flashed from viewers to performers—voluntary payment for entertainment. Holographic replays of impressive stunts looped in the air for those who missed them.

  "Impressive, aren't they?" A man appeared beside Kai, watching with a critical eye. Cropped black hair with a streak of silver adorned his head, and he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged. "Street level, of course. Nowhere near what the professional crews can do, but solid fundamentals."

  Kai nodded, gaze fixed on the skaters. "I saw some others earlier. They moved... differently."

  The man gave him a sharp look. "Couriers, probably. Different league entirely. These kids are performers." He gestured dismissively. "Flash over function. Couriers are about precision, speed, efficiency."

  "How does someone become a courier?" The question escaped before Kai could stop it.

  The man's laugh was short and humorless. "Not easily, newbie." His eyes flicked to Kai's wrist, where the faint outline of his upload ID was just visible. "Especially not a debt transfer."

  Kai bristled. "Why not?"

  "Because courier work is high-risk, high-reward. Companies won't invest in training someone who's just passing through." The man turned fully toward him. "Couriers need their own gear, specific system permissions, reputation. None of which you have."

  "Everyone starts somewhere," Kai said, repeating his sentiment to Zoe.

  Something changed in the man's expression—a flicker of interest replacing dismissal. "True enough. I started as a dishwasher in a virtual restaurant." His mouth quirked. "Ridiculous concept, users paying for food their avatars don't need, but that's entertainment economics for you."

  Below them, the performance concluded. The skaters took elaborate bows as final credits flashed their way. One caught a handful of data motes thrown by an admirer, absorbing them with a theatrical flourish.

  "If you're serious about courier work," the man said, "there's an entry-level option. Basic package running, on foot. Terrible pay, but it gets you system recognition as delivery personnel." He pointed across the hub to a small storefront with a glowing delivery icon. "Nova Express. They'll hire anyone with functioning legs. Even fresh uploads."

  Kai looked where he pointed, memorizing the location. "Thanks for the tip."

  The man shrugged. "Don't thank me yet. It's grunt work. But if you have any actual talent, someone might notice." He turned to leave, then paused. "Word of advice? Whatever you do, don't mess with the Slipstreams. Those skaters you saw earlier? They don't appreciate competition on their routes."

  Before Kai could ask more, the man melted into the crowd.

  Night had fully settled over Server Nova, the sky a canvas of data streams against digital darkness. The crowds had thinned, revealing more of the hub's architecture—columns of light supporting impossible overhangs, walkways floating without visible support.

  Kai activated his navigation marker, a glowing path appearing that would lead to his assigned housing. He should go, get settled, rest after the disorientation of upload. Be sensible. Follow the rules. Accept his situation.

  Instead, he found himself walking toward Nova Express.

  The small office remained open, a handful of users inside waiting for assignments. A tired-looking woman sat behind a counter, distributing small packages and routing instructions, her fingers gliding across her interface with the detached fluency of someone who'd done the same task a thousand times.

  He approached the counter. "I heard you're hiring couriers."

  The woman looked up, taking in his new-upload appearance with a practiced eye.

  "Runners," she corrected. "Ground-level package delivery. Fifteen credits per completed delivery, bonuses for speed and customer satisfaction. You provide the transportation."

  "I'll take it."

  She pushed a contract toward him, a simple digital form floating above the counter. "System standard. Thirty-day probation. No benefits. No guarantees. Tap to accept."

  He hesitated only briefly before pressing his finger to the glowing document. It flashed green, then dissolved into particles that absorbed into his skin. A subtle warmth spread up his arm—the system registering his new status.

  "Congratulations, you're now the lowest-ranked delivery person in Server Nova." The woman handed him a small package. "First assignment. Residential Tier 2, Unit 415. Navigation markers included in transfer."

  He accepted the package, feeling a data ping as delivery details uploaded to his system. A glowing trail appeared in his vision, showing the route.

  "Transit platforms cost credits," the woman added, seeing his hesitation. "Most runners use public walkways. Slower, but free."

  Outside, he paused to watch a courier race by overhead, skating along a light bridge that hadn't been visible moments before. The skater carved an impossible turn, vanishing around a building in a blur of speed and skill.

  Someday, Kai thought as he began jogging along his assigned route, that would be him. Not running deliveries on foot for pocket change, but flying through Server Nova on wheels, taking the routes no one else could handle.

  Five years was a long time.

  Long enough to become someone new. Someone different.

  Long enough to become someone who belonged in this world of light and data.

  Long enough to become free.