Thursday, August 28th, 2042, NEURASphere seventh floor, Virtual Reality.

  On the way to the cafeteria, Emmy checked the virtual clock in the bottom-right corner of her vision. It was now seven past noon, and a timer counting down the fifty-three minutes remaining for the lunch break floated nearby. It was a bleak, daily reminder of the rigid schedule that persisted even in this hyper-realistic, fully immersive digital world.

  A vision of enhanced workplace harmony and productivity fuelled the executives’ infatuation with the concept of mandatory synchronous lunch breaks in a designated location. All to foster the sense of family they liked to harp about.

  It also was much cheaper to give virtual food to employees and feed them the scientifically balanced nutrient goop while they were still diving in VR. It was possible to eat the goop directly. Emmy thought it tasted like a bland, cold mix of oatmeal and sawdust. Not even imported Canadian maple syrup could fix the taste. She had tried. Even miracles, it seemed, had their limits.

  Emmy let out a long sigh as she grabbed a tray at the entrance of the cafeteria. Virtual food was only as tasty as how much money you invested. Since the divorce, luxuries like premium VR meal packages were out of reach. The extra credits that should have bought her a hot, flavourful lunch here went to rent, child support, power bill, monthly payments and a thousand other things. But she could hardly complain; she had a job, even if it was in a corporate dystopia where her body absorbed its food by a tube while her mind ate here with her coworkers.

  The brain sure is weird.

  When scientists discovered how important it was to eat when spending too long in FullDive virtual rigs, even if your actual body had everything it needed? That had been the birth of the entire virtual food industry. The brain, apparently, cared about the feeling of eating even more than it cared about how full or not your stomach actually physically was.

  We keep fooling ourselves into thinking this is all real. I’m not in an office building cafeteria. I don’t actually work on the seventh floor. Despite me knowing perfectly well how fake it all is, it doesn’t make me immune to the cravings of my brain. How deeply ironic.

  She glanced around the room where her colleagues were already settling in for their own meals. Some indulged in steaming plates of fancy ramen, roast meats, sushi—meals painstakingly rendered, detailed down to the last grain of rice that could make your mouth water even though none of it was real.

  The sound of utensils clanking on plates, the chatter, and conversations over meals filled the place. It almost felt like someone was running a restaurant ambiance white noise generator. It was perfect to take her mind off this morning’s worries.

  She often liked to bash corporate, but honestly, today, they seem to score a lot of accidental points with her.

  As she slowly edged forward with the queue, watching all the virtual chefs standing behind their delicious displays of all the branded exotic foods you could ever wish for, Emmy just rolled her eyes.

  At the register, you paid for whatever was on your virtual tray, and your avatar could feast endlessly, even if your actual body never tasted a thing. But if your plate was still empty, like Emmy’s, the system would provide her with something to chew on—something to eat while sitting with her colleagues and socialising.

  It was a plate filled with unappetising, sterile-looking food cubes, barely identifiable as sustenance.

  It lacked any real texture when you bit into it—no crunch, no resistance, not even the slight give of powdered gelatine. And—if you could believe it—had even less of a taste than a glass of water. The first time she had the food cubes, the revelation startled Emmy; she did not think that was even possible. But then, it became her daily diet, and she grew accustomed to it.

  Well, if that helps ward off the feeling of starvation…

  Emmy left the line with her tray, empty except for a lonely plate filled with the food cubes. She hated the idea of it, but right now, she needed this. For the sake of both her brain and this body. Elyssia’s body—the sleek, agile Wind sylvani—needed to stay energised for the rest of the workday.

  She sat at their table—affectionately known as the geek’s table—Jamal right behind her. He placed his plate on the seat right across from her, as usual. Today, he had some shish taouk with sides of french fries, rice, veggies and some flatbread. It all smelled cruelly delicious.

  She was looking forward to chatting with him about anything. He would probably have tons of questions about the game. M-E’s glory days as a raider had been a frequent topic of their conversation lately.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask too many questions about me.

  She hoped his earlier behaviour was just the initial curiosity catching the better of him. Now that they were here, the two of them, at their usual table, perhaps she would finally have a small reprieve today. Some normalcy.

  But fate, it seemed, had other plans for her today. Priya, who had been just behind Jamal, stopped as the two friends settled in their seats. “What are you two doing, exactly?”

  “About to have lunch. Chat about geeky things, as always?” Emmy said.

  “Not at that table, you’re not. Come on.”

  Priya’s voice brooked no argument or compromise, leaving no room for negotiation.

  She pointed with a glance at an isolated table at one end of the cafeteria. There, Amirah, Kehlani, and Soraya chatted together, laughing. Sandra, queenly and alone at the head of the table, ate her meal in silence.

  Jamal’s awkward smile, a nervous twitch of his lips, betrayed his apprehension as he fumbled for an answer. His gaze darted between the table and Priya as he spoke the words aloud. “But that’s the woman’s table.”

  Priya looked at him like he had grown a second head, then shot a glance at Emmy.

  “You really don’t want to stay out here, just the two of you. Not today—trust me. Come on. Em? You’re already cleared. Jamal, you can come too; you’re harmless. Nobody will complain if you tag along.”

  Why would things be different today?

  The geek table had always been empty save for the two of them. A point of consistency in the surrounding turbulence; Jamal and M-E, just chatting about things nobody else truly cared about.

  Oh. Is it because I’m not M-E anymore in their eyes?

  The difference was how Emmy wore Elyssia’s body today. She wondered if the rest of the guys would see her simply as a woman who liked geeky and nerdy things. Would they come up and try to impress her, like they did to the other women on the floor? Or tried to, at least. It had only lasted a short while until Sandra had clarified how every other woman fell under her protection. That table where she sat? That was her kingdom, and the three women chatting happily were in a sanctuary.

  Does that protection now extend to me? Am I allowed in? Do I even need it?

  Priya seemed to think she did. So Emmy quickly scanned the room. Everywhere, gazes shifted—adjusting, deflecting—each one darting away as soon as she met them. Some of the men, half-way to standing, holding their tray in both hands, suddenly froze in place, waiting to see how things would unfold. Waiting. Calculating. Deciding whether to approach.

  Had Priya noticed, or simply predicted, this?

  Jamal arched an eyebrow at her, watching to see what she would do; he did not appear to show any preference of his own. But she knew he would likely walk with her through the very gates of Hell, if she ever asked.

  She shook her head in disbelief at the men on this floor.

  Men.

  They were a mystery that she never really understood. She was not one of them anymore—had never truly been one of them, to be frank. But at this precise moment, she felt the gap in her understanding was even bigger than she had ever realised.

  Jamal and Emmy silently agreed and stood up. When Emmy was about to pick up her plate, Priya interrupted her with a light touch on a shoulder. “Leave those horrible things behind, Em. Just come.”

  Only then did Emmy notice the all the food containers stacked up on Priya’s own tray.

  She’s carrying enough to feed a family!

  Emmy looked down at her plate of tasteless cubes with disdain. She stood up and hastily shoved her virtual meal into the nearest bin.

  Smiling, she returned to Priya’s side. “Lead the way?”

  Her colleague smiled and the three of them walked the rest of the way to the women’s table. Priya took the empty seat to the right of Soraya. Kehlani sat on the left of the dracan and was talking to Amirah, who sat across from her. Two empty seats were available across from Soraya and Priya. Sandra was a shorter distance away, seated in a position that gave her a clear view of the whole table.

  Emmy hesitated. She felt like she was intruding by asking for a seat at this table... but she was here now, and they had invited her.

  Is that all it takes? Is an invitation truly enough?

  But nobody glared at her, nor did they answer her unspoken question. So Emmy assumed it was fine. She circled around to the other side, Jamal stepping in behind her.

  With Priya on one side and Jamal on the other, Emmy felt like an escort NPC—just along for the ride, protected by others. As a proud tank player, she felt the departure from her usual role was rather hard to stomach.

  When Emmy arrived near the two empty seats, trying to decide which one to take, she caught Sandra looking her way. She met her gaze, and Sandra gave her a slow, approving nod.

  The queen deems you worthy.

  Soraya looked up with her icy blue dracan eyes straight into Emmy’s sapphire-blue ones. Her black short hair framed her face perfectly, and her blue fins and scales were undeniably exotic. Kindred dracan like her had this distinct eastern porcelain-skinned beauty look to them. The little scar on her cheek, meant to give her a battle-hardened appearance, had the opposite effect.

  Really, it’s cuter than anything else.

  Soraya gestured at Emmy to take the seat right in front of her. She smiled mischievously and echoed her earlier greeting, when they had met in passing in the corridors of cubicles leading to Sandra’s office. “Hey gaymer, I see you again!”

  A nervous smile touched Emmy’s lips at the emphasis on “again”, her hands fidgeting slightly as she sat herself down.

  Jamal put down his tray in front of the remaining seat. He scanned the room and breathed a sigh of relief, possibly at the seat he ended up with. He would be at the edge of the women’s circle, Emmy on one side, and Priya in front. Sandra was about as far from him as was possible at this table. Emmy guessed this was about as comfortable as he would be at this table.

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  With everyone now settled, Emmy focused back on Soraya and smiled back. “I didn’t know you for a gamer, Soraya.”

  Soraya smiled and arched an eyebrow, somehow surprised at her reply. Emmy quickly tried to determine what she was surprised about.

  Is it my voice, perhaps?

  But before she came to a definite conclusion, the dracan leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes, whispering conspiratorially: “Protip: It’s often a good idea to keep those things quiet in places like this—” She frowned, throwing an icy stare at the men sitting around all the remaining tables and continued, “—But I guess the dracan’s out of the bag now.”

  It felt strange, sitting at a table surrounded by women who all seemed to belong here so naturally. This lead Emmy to wonder where she belonged.

  Is it back there, with Jamal, talking stats and strategy?

  But today, a knot of uncertainty tightened in her chest. Had the geek table ever truly been where she belonged? Or had Priya and the others always known how displaced Emmy had been? Or was she welcomed here today, as a part of their circle, solely because of Elyssia’s form? Could a new body really change where one belonged?

  Emmy watched as Priya set to work, her hands moving with a practiced efficiency. One by one, with a quick flick of her fingers, she popped the lids open of her stacked food containers, releasing bursts of fragrant spices that immediately filled the air. Curry, turmeric, something tangy—Emmy placed some scents, but others escaped her. But together they combined to form a warm, comforting, and vivid bouquet.

  Priya arranged the containers in the centre of the table, creating a spread that transformed the sterile cafeteria into something more inviting, more alive. Lentils in a thick sauce, golden fried samosas, some kind of chutney that shimmered under the harsh overhead lights. The colours were rich, each dish carefully laid out like part of a well-rehearsed routine. Emmy’s stomach growled involuntarily, but she stayed quiet, watching the scene unfold, admiring the spectacle as the simple lunch break turned into a feast.

  All containers properly opened and distributed, Kehlani clapped and Amirah celebrated with a silly victory dance. Soraya leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and lightly teased Priya’s sides with the tips of her fingers, somewhere between a tickle and a playful flirtation. “You’re the best, Pri!”

  Soraya’s fingers lingered at Priya’s side just a little longer than necessary, her grin widening as the other swatted her hand away with a laugh. Emmy noticed the way their eyes softened when they met, the teasing touch almost intimate in a way that made Emmy wonder if there was something more there—something she was not quite privy to.

  Priya started unwrapping a bundle of naan from its cocoon of aluminum foil, the soft crinkle of the foil giving way to the warmth trapped inside. Steam rose as she peeled back the last layer, revealing the golden, pillowy bread, still warm and slightly charred at the edges. The rich, buttery scent wafted across the table, making Emmy’s mouth water.

  Soraya took an empty plate and pushed it in front of Emmy. Meanwhile, Priya gave the table the go-ahead. “Come on, girls. There should be plenty for all.”

  Emmy stared dumbfounded at the feast laid out in front of her. With a nervous swallow, she glanced sideways, scanning Jamal’s face for his reaction.

  But he was entirely unphased, busy creating himself some kind of shish taouk sandwich, one hand spreading some toum with a knife in the flatbread folded in his other hand, a smile of anticipation on his face.

  Emmy snickered at the sight. Despite the surrounding chaos, Jamal’s smile held a quiet contentment as he concentrated intently on the task, a peaceful island in a turbulent sea.

  She shook her head, then asked Priya, “Do you pull out all the stops like this every day?”

  Soraya, already scooping food from different containers onto her plate, replied first. “Pretty much! We usually rotate who foots the bill and chooses the cuisine, but we prefer to share the experience like this, yes.”

  Emmy frowned. Jamal and M-E had always just had their own plates, and ate their own food. They had talked over mealtimes, but they had never turned them into special events like this.

  Would every corporate-mandated lunch break turn into this, from now on?

  Emmy wondered how easily she could get used to this. It felt dangerously too good to be true.

  But the rich smell of cumin and coriander would not let Emmy’s mind linger on such thoughts, despite knowing it was all an illusion. Somewhere, outside this immersive world, her body processed some tasteless goop pumped into her stomach by some tube. No matter how much her senses told her she was in a cafeteria, surrounded by food and camaraderie, the truth gnawed at her in the background: nothing here was real.

  Priya continued the explanation. “I actually made most of those this morning in my Hub’s kitchen before logging to work. Cooking in VR isn’t very different from coding, and you can get much more authentic-tasting food than the mass-replicated VR brands.”

  Emmy nodded as she tore a piece of one of the naan bread, putting it on the bottom of her plate. She started looking at the different offerings in front of her. The fact some people still bothered to cook in this day and age—outside of meatspace—came as a surprise. In the physical world, M-E had cooked many meals for Claire, since VR food had always been beneath her. Emmy quickly brushed the memories away.

  Now isn’t the time to be haunted by the ghosts of the past.

  But that had been enough to remind Emmy just how tight her budget was. “You know, I won’t be able to afford to pay back your generosity for a long time, right? I’ve been on a food cube diet for a few months…”

  Amirah placed one hand over Emmy’s knee and squeezed ever so lightly.

  “Oh, honey, do you think we hadn’t noticed?”

  Kehlani grinned.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it! We’ve got you, fam.”

  Soraya stood up from her chair, leaned forward to take Emmy’s hands into hers. Her navy blue scales felt warmer than Emmy would have expected. Supple and warm, like skin, not cold or inflexible.

  “We all heard about your divorce, babe. Trust me, ‘This too shall pass’. And until it does? We’ve got your back.”

  Her voice softened on the last few words, her hands lingering in Emmy’s for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulled back and beamed. The warmth of her touch lingered, almost enough to make Emmy forget the tension clawing at her chest. Almost.

  Everyone around their table nodded in agreement. Even Sandra, although it was a more subdued one.

  Emmy did not know how to respond to such a display of solidarity. She knew those women, their names. But she felt that was the extent of it. She really knew nothing of them beyond that. They had never been truly close.

  Well, except Priya. But that’s just because she sits right in front of me.

  Emmy recalled one more thing setting her aside from many others: she did not act like an ass. But really, that felt like the bare minimum, rather than noteworthy.

  Before Emmy could come to a satisfying conclusion, Soraya let go of her hands. Still leaning forward, she snatched Emmy’s plate. She dunked a generous portion of butter chicken, rice, and chana masala onto it. She moved with uncharacteristic deliberation, her grin widening as she set the serving spoon down. Soraya set down the plate and gently squeezed her hands once more. “Trust me,” she repeated, her icy blue eyes holding Emmy’s for a beat longer than necessary.

  Emmy’s throat tightened as she stared down at the plate, piled high with fragrant food she had not tasted in months, if not years. The warmth of Soraya’s touch still lingered on her hands, and the gentle pressure from Amirah’s earlier squeeze had not completely faded, either. It was too much—too much kindness, too much care. She was not used to being the one that others rallied around, and for a moment, she thought about pulling away, retreating to the safety of the quiet geek’s table with Jamal.

  But she could not.

  Not when Soraya’s eyes held that calm confidence, that quiet assurance that Emmy was not alone anymore.

  “Thanks,” she managed, her voice cracking just slightly.

  Maybe this time I don’t have to do it all on my own.

  She took a tentative bite of the meal in front of her.

  It took only a few seconds before she realised this was genuine Indian cuisine, not the watered-down American version. She grimaced, her face contorted with a mixture of pain and pleasure, relishing every burning sensation, every agonizing second.

  No more food cubes!

  She could barely describe the joy she felt as she ate—she had not had anything like it, both in VR or real life, in such a long time. And here she was, in a new body, with senses way sharper than hers had ever been, eating food that was both spicy and savoury.

  Before lunchtime was over, Emmy had tasted every dish Priya had brought. This was the most she had eaten in years.

  Playful banter and chatter filled the next half an hour. Emmy could not believe what was happening. The women had not merely simply invited her here to shield her from the guys. They had welcomed her in their circle. She now belonged here, with them.

  It felt good—too good. Being included like this, being cared for. A part of her wondered if it would last, or if, like so many other things in her life lately, it would slip through her fingers the moment she let herself believe it was real.

  Jamal had finished his plate long before the rest of the table did, as he had stayed out of every conversation. When offered, he had politely declined their offer to sample some of their feast. “I’m quite full, thanks.”

  Whenever their eyes met, he gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. He did not need to say it, but she knew what it meant. He was there—always had been, always would be. The quiet foundation beneath the chaos.

  At some point, he took his phone and started reading the news feed, or pretending to, at least. His eyes kept following the conversations, and he would often chuckle or smile. Emmy wondered if it was in response to what he was reading, or if he actually listened in and followed their jokes and playful banter.

  When lunch break was almost over, he suddenly tapped Emmy lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, hey, M-E…? Is that you?”

  He flipped the phone around, showing her the thumbnail of a video on the feed of a popular social media app.

  The video was called “Introducing Golden Dawn: Meet The Party’s Timid Goddess of Magic!” And the thumbnail picture showed Leoric, Kaelyn, Vaelith and Elyssia each in a corner of the icon, the name “Golden Dawn” in the centre. It had millions of views, tens of thousands of likes.

  “What the…?”

  Emmy opened her mouth to argue, to say she had nothing to do with it—but the words stuck. Because in the eyes of the internet, she was already part of the spectacle. Already a player in the game Kaelyn had set in motion.

  What have you done, Kaelyn?! Shit, is that why you offered to pay for the party’s registration fee?

  Jamal put his phone on the table between them.

  “You haven’t seen it? That Goddess is really something else. Cute, I mean. Is this your party?”

  Soraya leaned forward to peek at the screen.

  “Oh! The Golden Dawn vid! That’s what’s been bugging me all morning! I knew you looked familiar, babe!”

  Emmy turned to face her, and their gaze met. She thought she caught something in Soraya’s gaze. What was it? Admiration? She was not sure if she was supposed to say anything back, but Soraya carried the conversation on her own.

  “I watched it this morning, just before plugging in. So you’re the tank of that party, huh? Martial artist, right? Going against the meta, you sure know how to make a wave wherever you go, girl.”

  It hadn’t even been ten hours since we logged off. Kaelyn, how did you get on the news, toy with Vaelith’s heart, and publish a trending video in such a short amount of time…? What’s your secret?!

  “I…”

  Emmy had no response for her. She never wanted to make any waves. Not here today, not in social media spaces. Not even in the game. She was a small tank because she was tired of her former character, Elowyn, and her statuesque physique. She had grown tired of how everybody looked at her former Paladin like she was a symbol or measuring stick of some kind.

  Soraya beamed, one petite hand delicately against her chest. “I play a brute, myself. Fellow shortstack, high DPS tanks, unite!”

  If Emmy was not in the middle of a panic attack, already destabilised by the never-ending surprises assaulting her today, she would have loved to jump into a deep dive of theory crafting about the pros and cons of their mutual tank specs.

  But instead, she had to find out what this video contained. She had her suspicions. But she never liked to assume. So she asked, “What’s in the video? We haven’t even started partying yet—we formed the party just before logging off…”

  Soraya grinned and was all too happy to answer. “Oh, it’s that blonde dancing with the silver-haired one in a market. It’s racy as all hell, too! Two of the hottest characters in Luminara, doing a super sensual show in front of a crowd. Gutsy of them, it’s skirting the line of bannable offense on so many platforms! Oh, and the edits. It makes it SO over-the-top and provocative. Can you introduce me, Em? Maybe I could impress them with some dancing of my own? Where did you find a bombshell like her to heal for you, anyway?”

  Soraya grinned, but there was a slight edge to her tone—a spark of something she pushed down before anyone could notice.

  Amirah raised her brows and glanced at Emmy, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

  “Oh, someone who’s got Soraya drooling all over her? That must be quite the catch.”

  Kehlani leaned in, her phone already out. “I gotta see this.”

  Emmy winced. This was going from bad to worse. Now, instead of just being a part of the background, she was becoming the centre of attention, and not just in the game—but here, too.

  Why had Kaelyn recorded and published that?!

  She could almost picture it now—Kaelyn, casually twirling Vaelith around in the market square, the city backdrop pixel-perfect as they danced like no one was watching.

  Except, of course, the whole damn internet was watching. And Kaelyn knew it. Of course she did.

  Emmy groaned inwardly.

  That damn cat’s going to get such a serious talking-to later tonight.

  But in the meantime, in an office filled with terminally online IT folks? If the earlier public channel about the various glitched player’s identity was any sign, so many would immediately recognise her as Vaelith’s party member. And Kaelyn playing Vaelith like a fiddle in public meant that she would now get even more unsolicited attention.

  As Emmy spiralled into her own thoughts, Amirah and Kehlani whistled appreciatively.

  “Oh, wow. That’s a bit much.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. Is that even allowed online?”

  Soraya grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, you, Vaelith and Kaelyn planned this all along, huh? Did she make her character to look just like Luxoria to get your party some spotlight? Clever. I gotta say, Emie, I’m impressed. Who knew you were so good at PR?”

  She was so far from the truth. Vaelith did not even pick her appearance. She said she had skipped the character customisation by accident. And Kaelyn? She barely knew her. That damned cat planned everything on her own. She had not even asked them if they were okay with this.

  Ugh. This day is just going to drag on forever, isn’t it?

  Noticing how Emmy had remained silent and in her own world, Soraya waved her arm in front of her face. “Em? Sori to Em-em. Are you okay in there?”

  Emmy did not know what to respond to that. Thankfully, she did not have to find out; Sandra stood up and announced their lunch break was over.

  “Back to work, ladies. Sort this out after work.”

  She then clapped her hands loud enough for the entire room to pay attention. “Alright everyone, chop chop. You’re on the clock.”

  Rescued by the bell. Literally.

  too bright?