I immediately ruled out the dwarf, not even hesitating to study the waist-high warrior’s stat sheet. Call me vain, but IRL, I was a pretty good-looking guy. Twenty-five years old with the physique of a lightweight boxer (and the fighting skills to match), I could easily have been a model… if the industry wasn’t overrun by VR puppets.

Having been born in the wrong century for that particular role, and lacking the expensive intelligence enhancements of the higher classes, I was forced to find work in an area where my ‘physical media’ had not yet become surplus to requirement. I’m not trying to justify the life I led, I know I made some bad choices… but in the poorer zones of our tech-obsessed world, your flesh could typically only earn you money in one of two ways: dealing out pain, or dealing in pleasure. Even the poor bastards who chose to make their money on their backs had to compete with the damn AI, these days, thanks to fully immersive VR. With full sensory simulation now widespread, a physical body was far from obligatory for even that particular act. So, I took the other path. The bloodier path.

Somehow, despite the wear and tear on my ‘meat media’, my looks survived my brutal career choice. And from a gaming standpoint, a lot of folks paid good money to give their avatar a face and body like mine. So that was why there was no way in hell I was having that small perk squished and distorted into a dwarf-shaped container, then hidden behind a frenzied mass of facial hair.

“Mai, please remove the dwarf from the selection process,” I confirmed, grimacing as I stared at my bizarre brother from another server.

“You got it, boss,” she replied, with a wink, banishing him from the selection screen.

Admittedly, there was one other reason why I had been so quick to dismiss the dwarf. Perhaps I was a tad paranoid, or maybe I’d just watched too many prison dramas from the pre-Atone era of incarceration, but all my instincts were telling me that having a crotch-height avatar in a predominantly male prison was just begging for the wrong sort of attention.

Satisfied with my (admittedly shallow) decision, I was left with two options. The wizard’s apprentice, and the swordsman. Mai was stood between them, casually draping her arms around both avatars. Then (confirming that the elven AI had absolutely no comprehension of boundaries), she leaned into the swordsman and stuck her tongue in his (my) ear.

Ignoring the elf’s odd behavior, I began by focusing my will on the arcane option, willing its stats to unfold before me.

PRIMARY SKILL: WIZARD’S APPRENTICE – LEVEL 1

PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED – 100%

Rep: 0

HP: 70/70

Mana: 1/60

Alliances: None (Independent)

PHYSICAL STATS -

Strength: 0

Agility: 0

Speed: 0

Stamina: 1

Resilience: 0

Accuracy: 2

Defence: 0

Armed combat: 0

Unarmed combat: 0

Carrying capacity: 1

Yikes. The arcane form was a total pushover. But hang on, what was this other menu?

INTANGIBLE STATS -

Magical attack: 1

Perception: 1

Charisma: 1

Disguise: 0

Luck: 0

Healing: 0

Mana generation: 1

Leadership: 0

Homemaking: 1

OUTSTANDING QUESTS – Select your character (In progress)

Homemaking? I scoffed with a quizzical tone. Well, I suppose it makes sense to have something to fall back on if the wizarding thing doesn’t work out, but seriously? I couldn’t imagine that the ability to darn my own socks or keep my cell tidy would get me that far in whatever lay ahead. And that wasn’t the only oddity. This avatar was troublingly low on physical attributes. Still, charisma was an interesting addition. It couldn’t be the worst thing to possess, arriving in a virtual prison with no allies, like I was about to. But what in the holy hell was mana?

As I tried to figure things out, the clock continued to count down. I needed something to compare those stats against, so I ignored the amorous elf and focused my will on the swordsman, calling up the empty avatar’s details.

PRIMARY SKILL: SWORDSMAN – LEVEL 1

PERCENTAGE REMAINING UNTIL NEXT LEVEL IS UNLOCKED – 100%

Rep: 0

HP: 80/80

Mana: 0/40

Alliances: None (Independent)

PHYSICAL STATS -

Strength: 1

Agility: 1

Speed: 1

Stamina: 1

Resilience: 0

Accuracy: 1

Defence: 1

Armed combat: 1

Unarmed combat: 0

Carrying capacity: 1

Ah, now that I could get my head around. The swordsman’s avatar was much more heavily weighted toward the physical side, just like the elf had suggested. And that was a trait I had a lot more experience in IRL, thanks to the rather dubious career choices that got me thrown into (or was it uploaded into?) this shit-show in the first place. The blade class body was looking a lot more appealing than the arcane option. Of course, there was one more screen to check before I made my final decision…

INTANGIBLE STATS -

Magical attack: 0

Perception: 0

Charisma: 0

Disguise: 0

Luck: 0

Healing: 0

Mana generation: 0

Leadership: 0

Homemaking: 0

OUTSTANDING QUESTS – Select your character (In progress)

Yikes. Not so hot on the non-physical skills, then, something that I pretty much expected. But hey, big deal. What the hell did I know about magic anyway? I knew how to hurt people, and that was a skill I could carry over from my old life.

I stared at my potential new body, transfixed. Admittedly, I knew as much about sword fighting as I did about magic, but a sword couldn’t be that difficult to wield compared to a baseball bat, right? This option didn’t have the wizard’s charisma, but surely, I had more than enough natural charisma to get me through. And as for homemaking, well, so what if I can’t make a bed properly?

My mind made up, I selected the swordsman.

“Swordsman avatar selected” giggled the sexy elf, giving me a wink.

Without warning, my grip on this odd virtual reality gave way, as if the floor had fallen out from under me. I began to fall, leaving my chosen avatar and its elven seducer behind. They drifted into the distance until suddenly, their code began to unknit and rejoin the data stream.

No! I attempted to cry. I needed that body. But it was a futile effort. Whatever had facilitated my ability to communicate (the elf, perhaps?) was now gone. I had nothing to cry out with. Scared and desperate, I tried to claw upwards, to retrieve my dissipating form, but I had nothing to claw with, either. I was mind again, and little else. A tiny program drowning in a volatile torrent of data-flow.

As I slowly came to accept my fate, it occurred to me that the data surrounding me was probably that of other prisoners, all being transferred down toward a similar end.

But to what end? What in the hell was going on?

-[ Data transfer in progress. ]-

…replied the system, as if reading my thoughts. Given my digital nature, it probably was.

-[ Avatar build in progress, please wait. ]-

Everything went white.