“Take me to my square,” Nova said. She flew across the Magisterial Chamber, leaving Arkwal and the Emperor behind, and zoomed in to her square in the bottom left of the grid. Like most players, she’d fretted about her player number for months before making her final choice. The number determined the position of the square within the grid — which quadrant it was in, and how central it was.

To make things interesting in the lead-up to the start of The Game, Spiralwerks had gamified the entire number choosing process. Released in batches, most had been available for free and were distributed on a first come, first served basis. Other ‘cooler’ numbers — the low ones, round ones, primes and so on — were sold, auctioned or offered as prizes in a multitude of promotional games.

As a result, securing a good number had become something of a sporting pastime. Although numbers had no direct bearing on how well the player would perform in Solarversia, the unspoken agreement was that the lower numbers — those closest to the centre — were the coolest. At least, that’s where most A-list celebrities had ended up.

The dilemma people faced was whether to lock in a number early, and risk missing out on a better one, or to wait, and risk having to choose an even higher one when all the central ones went to other people anyway.

As well as wanting to be fairly central, Nova and Sushi had wanted to be next to one another within the grid. They’d spent ages debating the merits of various numbers, and arguing about who was going to be odd, and who was going to be even. In the end they settled for squares in the bottom left quadrant: Nova chose 515,740 and Sushi, one space to her left, chose 515,739. Numbers were semi- permanent. They lasted until a player crashed out of The Game for good — at which point their finishing position became their new number.

Now, finally, after years of waiting, Nova hovered in front of her profile square for real. Although she’d seen it a thousand times — had dreamt about it on several occasions — it still excited her beyond words to see it on the wall of the Magisterial Chamber. Squares had a mystical quality about them; they were gateways to another world that made the normal one look terribly trite.

Her number was plastered across the top of the square like it was the most important fact about her. On the left-hand side beneath it was a picture of her avatar’s head, and beneath that her avatar name, nationality, catchphrase and shortcode. The task of choosing a name and a catchphrase had caused her so much trouble she came close to quitting before The Game even started. She ended up with ‘Super Nova 2020’ and ‘Supernova’s a Blast!’, a lame pun that she regretted immediately.

The system of shortcodes had been devised by Spiralwerks to help players visualise each other’s locations in the grid more easily. Each quadrant had been named after a suit in a pack of cards — the lower left quadrant was designated ‘C’ for Clubs. In addition, each concentric ring of numbers was itself numbered. The number one square in the centre of the grid was ring one. The numbers round it — two to nine — comprised ring two, and so on. Nova’s number, 515,740, was in ring 359, giving her the shortcode of C359.

As well as appearing in profile squares, shortcodes were also the license plate numbers on each of a player’s three vehicles: their car, boat and plane. There had been thousands of models to choose from, and millions of ways to customise them. Nova adored her vehicles — she’d modified them to look like something from the set of Tron — and loved the way they glistened and rotated in 3D on the left-hand side of her profile square.

As she approached her square it turned transparent to reveal a cubic room with walls made of swirling yellow plasma, and a floor and ceiling as black as the night. This was her Corona Cube, the place that she would start in the world of Solarversia whenever she logged on from that moment forward, and her exit point whenever she wanted to log out.

The black ceiling displayed two constellations: portals to parts of Solarversia. One was named ‘Castalia’ and led back the way she had come, into the Magisterial Chamber of the flying palace. The other was named ‘Solarversia’ and led to the Gameworld, which was modelled on the Solar System. Nova looked up to the Solarversia constellation and traced her finger over its constituent stars.

As she touched the last one a harmonious jingle sounded, and three objects, recognised by people the world over, appeared floating in the centre of the room: a rock, some paper and a pair of scissors.

A datafeed appeared in her display, informing her that she’d been matched against player number 38,043,551, JoLem from Poland. She was about to find out whether of hours of strategising were going to pay off. A fifteen second countdown began. Those who let it count down to zero would automatically forfeit the game. “Paper,” she announced, annoyed by the doubt she could hear in her voice.

She winced as the result flashed on the screen: “Scissors beats paper. Winner: JoLem.” Losing players were matched against each other after a twenty second delay. It took her five attempts in total, winning with scissors, against the paper of a Chinese player. She took her headset off, twitched her nose like a rabbit, and swept her long hair behind her ears.

“Finally. Thought I was going to be here all night.”

“Told you scissors would win. Mum does know best occasionally.”

Nova bit her tongue. Annoyingly, her mum had suggested scissors earlier in

the evening, but there no point arguing about it now. She replaced the headset to find that her victory had caused the floor she was standing on to give way. She fell into a winding tunnel, illuminated by the occasional spotlight, until eventually she popped out of the end, her arms and legs flailing as she fell two storeys to a crash pad on the ground. Her headset flashed a message: “Welcome to Alpha Island. Population 543,286.”

Looking up, she noticed hundreds of entwined tubes like the one she’d emerged from. Castalia seemed to have grown player-spitting dreadlocks. As she glanced around, datafeeds were overlaid on the objects she looked at. Castalia was revealed to be floating a kilometre overhead, and was still populated with several million people. When she looked at another player, a feed appeared above their head, displaying their profile information. She only needed to glance at a building or a landmark in the distance to be told how far away it was, and how long it would take her to reach it.

For now, she wanted to get her bearings. Players seemed to be heading in the same direction — toward a signpost. She stared at it and said “Lock on to target: Run.” The signpost was taller than a triple-decker bus and surrounded by scores of other players who were either babbling to each other about the various destinations, or taking selfies in front of it. Nailed to the post at head height was a sign that said ‘Out of Order’.

“How can a signpost be out of order? Are the directions wrong?” her mum asked.

“Nope. Signposts double as teleport machines, except they won’t start working until the Teleport Quest has been completed. It’s the machine that’s out of order, not the signs.”

She tried to find a destination whose name she recognised. The Forest of Fun — 1 km , Conga World — 5 km, The Travelling Circus of Nakk-oo — 3,213 km. The closest location, only a hundred metres away, was the Fire Demon’s Obstacle Course. She locked on.

***

Nova had completed the Blazing Balls and the Scorching Skyscraper obstacles without incident. Now she stood motionless, eyes locked with a Luminous Lavadile. She exhaled slowly and edged forward. Still no movement from the beast. It opened its mouth and emitted a long, deep growl. Another step, this one bigger. Her eyes darted from the lavadile to the side of the fire pit it guarded. Could she make it?

Three or so metres to go. Flames licked the side of the beast’s head and she could have sworn it just moved toward her. This was it . No more time for pussyfooting. She stepped onto her right foot and launched herself forward as far as possible. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the thing make its move. She landed on the bank inches from the molten lava and scrambled up the side as fast as she could. Behind her she heard a whooshing sound and then a snap.

She rolled onto her back and saw that the powerful jaws had clamped round her left foot. A glistening globule of molten lava trickled down one of its teeth and landed on her leg. It made a gentle hiss as it burned through the fabric of her trousers. Damn thing, get off already. Her health score, displayed in the top right of her visor, ticked down a second time. The snap of the jaw had cost her eight points, the globule a further five. She was already down to 87 health points and The Game had only just begun.

Not the start she’d hoped for. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a long piece of flint. She grabbed it, sat forward and rammed the sharp end into the creature’s eye. It released her leg in an instant and plunged back into the lava, powered by its strong tail.

She made it to the top of the pit and turned to take in the scene. There were several hundred other players navigating the fiery assault course. To her left, less than thirty feet away, a guy was in serious trouble. A lavadile, longer than hers, had fastened its jaws around his legs. He thrashed around, trying to break free from its clutches as it pulled him ever closer to the red-hot bath. His arms spasmed with pain as it finally dragged him under. An even worse start than hers.

She arrived at the last obstacle, Nico’s Nets, feeling out of breath, though she hadn’t moved from the sofa all night. Virtual worlds could do strange things to the brain. She pinged Burner and Sushi to compare notes. They were further ahead and had managed to retain perfect health scores. How did that happen? Although Sushi and Burner were respectable gamers in their own right, they weren’t in Nova’s league, not close. She gritted her teeth and tried to concentrate.

Nico’s Nets were stretched across a path — all players needed to do was crawl beneath them to cross it. On the other side, a finishing line displayed a count of people who had completed the obstacle course — over forty thousand — and also a count of people who had lost a life tackling it — nearly three thousand. She did her best to put thoughts of death out of her mind and to remain calm.

The netting was plumbed in to the lava pit. An old man dressed in rags stood at the side and worked a brass stopcock covered in valves. He pointed at Nova and laughed. “Dare ye cross Nico’s Nets? If ye’s feeling cold, Nico will warm ye up.” He scowled and turned one of the valves to release several gallons of lava into the front section of hollow netting. A Dutch guy, halfway through, turned and screamed. Nova saw his health score decrease from one hundred to zero in the space of a few seconds. His avatar flashed a few times before disappearing. “Nico warmed that gentleman up, though some might say a bit too much. Who’s next?”

The mechanics of the game were obvious — when the nets were blue, they were safe to crawl under; when they were red, lava coursed through them. She watched a few more people attempt it, trying to discern any patterns or tricks. It took her a couple of minutes to work out a plan. She crawled halfway and paused. It looked safe — but she knew better than to continue. As expected, the old man turned the rusty valve on the far side of the stopcock. The netting in front of her turned red while Nico taunted some new arrivals behind her. When the netting ahead changed back to blue she scrambled like mad, and got through unscathed.

Just beyond the finishing line was a cube the size of her dad’s shed. The sides looked like they were on fire. It was a Corona Cube, like the one she had entered back in Castalia. Cubes like it were scattered all over Solarversia and acted as safe houses that avatars could stay in when players wanted to log out. While she was there, nobody could do her wrong.

She stood in front of the cube and chewed on her lip. It had been such a long day, and after a couple of glasses of cider, she felt a bit dreamy. But it pained her to know that Burner and Sushi were further ahead than she was. And she wanted to pick up Flynn already. She volleyed her display back to the lounge for a second. Her mum had fallen asleep in her chair; her dad must have gone to bed.

Volleying back to Solarversia, she walked up to the cube and passed straight through one of its faces as it turned transparent, content to have completed the obstacle course. This was a year-long game, not a piddly game of Monopoly. A marathon, not a sprint.

Up in her room, Nova got into bed and lay awake for a while. Fragments of Solarversia were juxtaposed with pieces of reality. The gooey purple mess in the centre of the Magisterial Chamber was supposed to be the Emperor? She’d already lost a handful of health points? Images flickered in her mind: the flying palace, the lavadile snapping at her foot, her revision books.

The last image wouldn’t budge. She only had three months until her exams, the ones that would determine the university she went to. If she made the grades she needed. They were exams that would affect the entire course her life, or so her teachers kept telling her. And now she knew something to be true, something she had hoped for, and dreaded, in equal measure. Solarversia was as addictive as she’d thought it would be.

****************************************************

Full book available on Amazon here:

https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B00ZFF6NVK

Chapter 5 coming soon!