Sitting in the chair, staring at the Archivist, Nico felt every fiber of his body vibrating, a knot of adrenaline tightening his stomach, his muscles tense, his hands clenched around the armrests, and his heart pounding against his sternum.

  The Archivist, in front of him, typed on a holographic keyboard, his albino face impassive.

  “What are you doing?” Nico asked, breaking the silence in which only the hum of the machines echoed in his ears and vibrated in his sternum.

  The Archivist did not turn around, continuing to type on the holographic keyboard, then said, “I'm programming the viewer to give you access to your memory, and I'm programming a second viewer, which I will wear, to help me guide you on this journey and guide you if you get lost.”

  Nico nodded, then sniffed and stood up; he couldn't stand still while waiting. He began to walk around the room and looked at the black, luminous cables running along the ceiling and walls, intertwined like veins. He imagined he could run his mind along those wires, moving through their flow like an electrical impulse.

  “We're operational, subject N_01.”

  Nico turned around. The Archivist handed him the visor, similar to the one Nico had in the real world. Nico stepped forward, grabbed the visor, then sat down.

  The Archivist said dryly, “Don't worry, I'll guide you through the integrity check.”

  Nico swallowed, still feeling the knot of unease, nodded, and put on the visor. The room, with its cables and monitors, vanished, and his eyes saw only darkness. He felt a violent jolt at the base of his neck that made him jump, then the Archivist's voice murmured dryly:

  ? Subject memory input N_01.

  ? Integrity check activated.

  Then there was a flash, and the world around him slowly took shape, like a trickle becoming a stream, then a river.

  The sun cast a golden glow over everything, outlining towers and streets. Nico smiled: “I remember this place. It's the city of Taynor.”

  In front of the white walls, his stomach tightened. Outside those walls, he had encountered the creatures of Erebos for the first time: the Nerakth.

  An indistinct clamor filled the air, crowds thronged the gray stone street, and melodies filtered out of the taverns, blending into a cacophonous symphony.

  He smiled as he remembered the bizarre names on the signs: “The Dancing Goat,” “The Trained Hen.” Inns and taverns alternated with shops marked only by symbols: a piece of cloth, a knife, a razor, needle and thread, a vase, a boot, while garlands and floral wreaths hung from doors and windows.

  He walked along the avenues looking for familiar faces, then turned the corner: the street was deserted. He frowned as he smelled rain, looked up at the sky, and saw thick hailstones falling like a waterfall as the sky turned unnaturally dark.

  “What the...”

  “These are your memories. Imprecise. Disordered.”

  Nico nodded and wrapped himself in his cloak, seeking shelter.

  “Go on,” said the Archivist's voice inside his mind.

  Nico nodded and saw an inn with a door ajar, and inside, Leo was drinking and eating with his usual greed. He laughed, and when he crossed the threshold, the smell of burnt wood, hops, and sweat sparked his memory. He smiled with wide eyes as he looked around: “I remember this inn.”

  He sat down on a crooked stool next to Leo.

  “Lower your voice,” squeaked a voice next to him. Nico jumped and turned, only then noticing Kiah sitting next to him on the other side of the bar.

  “What do you want? Just enjoy yourself. Have you ever tried beer?” Leo said to Kiah, then stared at him. “Come on, Nico. You have to try it,” he said, taking two big gulps with his mouth still full of food.

  Nico nodded and brought the mug to his lips, but the smell hit him like a punch: oily, with an iron aftertaste. His jaw tightened as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  “Together!” croaked a bird-like voice. Nico looked up: the voice belonged to a scarlet macaw, perched on the shoulder of a man counting coins.

  Nico looked around and found himself in the waiting room, its beds overturned to form a counter and surrounded by worn-out codes.

  “What the...”

  “Why are you here, subject N_01?” asked the Archivist's voice in his head.

  Nico didn't answer. He was sitting at the table, and in front of him, the bathtub had a lion's paw resting on the wood while around him, the crowd shouted in words and animal verses. The tub lifted the mug with its paw, tilted it, and poured the liquid into the porcelain body.

  Nico brought his mug to his mouth and drank, the liquid suspended between his tongue and palate. The oily and ferrous flavors invaded his throat, rising to his nostrils.

  “Down! Down! Down!” roared the room.

  The retching rose in his throat as he swallowed the sip, then the taste changed: the iron dissolved and a familiar beer bitterness remained.

  “What is this?” asked the Archivist in his mind.

  Nico swallowed as the gurgling of the tank swallowing filled the room, then the gurgling mixed with a slow lapping as a rumbling stomach caught his attention. He turned around.

  Beyond Leo, someone laughed softly. “Looks like thunder tonight,” said a man, looking up at the clear sky dotted with stars.

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  “Dan...” Nico murmured.

  Dan laughed. He opened a bundle of rags, sliced bread and cheese, handed him a piece, and Nico took it hesitantly.

  The smell of cheese mixed with salt air faded away as roast meat and beer took its place, and the lapping of the boats grew into a cacophony of voices and music.

  “No...”

  He ran a hand over his face and inhaled slowly.

  “Proceed subject N_01, go with the flow,” said a voice in his mind.

  He was in the great banquet hall. At a table on a platform sat the king, the princess, and the nobles, while the training aspirants feasted at tables and benches laden with food.

  The oily, iron-like smell returned, but Nico was drawn to something else. Beyond the celebrating crowd, he saw the door to the training courtyards and outside, on the ground, circles marked with dark ropes stood out against the grass.

  He went outside and saw Gareth. He raised his hand to greet him, walking towards him, but the boy didn't even glance at him.

  Nico lined up with the other apprentices, putting his right foot forward, knees bent with his weight distributed evenly and the blade in the center, at eye level.

  “Lunge!” shouted Gareth.

  Nico laughed at the sound of feet stamping almost in unison against the ground as swords sliced through the air.

  He laughed as he performed the step, lunge, step, lunge.

  Then the thin blade of twigs flashed, changing before his eyes into a real blade as darkness enveloped him.

  He lunged, but the blade missed its target. A huge Nerakth towered over him. His heart pounded in his throat, he was gasping for breath, and he felt exposed, realizing it was too late.

  Dan's thin daggers darted towards the creature as Gareth pulled him back a moment too late.

  The Nerakth's blade grazed his side. He felt the burn of skin torn by fire made of blades.

  He screamed in anger, panic, and frustration, remembering that it was only because of that mistake that he had lost part of his memory.

  Kiah's hand reached out and a sphere of light shot down the corridor, just as he remembered it, heading straight for the monster, but its trajectory slipped and Nico barely had time to realize it.

  Then the light hit him with a white explosion that seemed to open his skull from the inside. His temples began to hiss as if red-hot needles were being stuck into them. Then, as if someone had lifted an invisible curtain in front of his eyes, letting in an entire reality in a single instant, everything poured over him.

  Then the pain ceased and he felt he was Nico, but he was, after all, submerged under someone else.

  He opened his eyes slowly, as if his eyelids were heavy, hearing only the sound of the fans and the hum of the computers, which did not disturb his concentration.

  In front of him, a series of documents were open: tables, statistical projections, behavioral simulations, predictive models of user flows and social interactions, cultural impact analyses, and narrative architecture schemes.

  He breathed in slowly, leaned back and stretched out in his chair, which creaked softly under his weight. He felt tiredness pressing against his eyelids, which were slightly slower to lift as his gaze scanned the lines and graphs, as if each number passed him by distantly, making him feel almost alien to that continuous flow of calculations.

  He scanned a few more pages, then with a slow but decisive gesture closed the folder. On the cover was written: METAPHYSIC PROJECT.

  He stared at it, and that word, Metaphysic, resonated in his mind as if it contained something beyond what he was reading.

  It was then that he heard a clear, modulated female voice coming from the next room, then the voice burst into a silvery laugh.

  He got up and went out. Outside, at the end of the corridor, he saw A., standing with his usual confident bearing, the posture of someone accustomed to leading and deciding. He was wearing a dark suit that fit snugly over his slender figure. His dark blond hair was combed back with apparent naturalness, neat but soft, and his light eyes, that cold blue that sometimes looked like ice, were affable as he conversed with his interlocutor.

  The girl was backlit, her face remained in shadow and he couldn't make it out, but the lines of her body, the way she moved, her elegant and natural posture, were clear, and he immediately felt a sensation that took him almost by surprise: he found her beautiful. It wasn't her appearance, it was something in the way she occupied the space, in the confidence with which she spoke, in the tone of her voice.

  She was shaking hands with A. and saying, “I'm really happy about this opportunity, it will be a pleasure to work together.”

  Her voice had a warm, special musicality.

  A. smiled at her, a broad, genuine smile. “You'll be instrumental in this job.”

  Then A. turned and saw him.

  “Ah, come, C., let me introduce you to our linchpin, our backbone. Without him, the project would be lost. Come, B., come,” A. called enthusiastically.

  He took a step forward, crossing the bright threshold, and walked down the corridor.

  She turned toward him, but her face remained strangely blurred, as if covered by a thin veil, but her eyes, or at least the idea of her eyes, seemed to be fixed on him with sincere curiosity.

  “B., meet C. She is our new project consultant and will be a valuable asset, indispensable for this delicate phase of development. She is an anthropologist,” said A. emphatically, then continued, looking at C. with confidence: “We really needed someone who understood the customs, traditions, and cultural dynamics to be programmed into the game, someone capable of giving human depth to what has so far been mainly architecture and code.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a smile that he couldn't see but could sense. She held out her hand and he took it in his; it was warm and soft. For a moment, neither of them spoke, then B. said awkwardly, “The pleasure is ours,” adding with a half-smile, “I'll warn you right away, we talk more to graphs and algorithms than to people around here, but we're trying to improve.”

  She gave a hint of a laugh. She was beautiful when she laughed.

  “Then I've come at the right time,” she said with a smile.

  “Absolutely,” he continued, feeling his voice come out more smoothly than he expected. “We need someone to remind us that behind every NPC there must be the most realistic version possible of a real human being, with habits, contradictions, and... bad decisions.”

  She laughed again, a short but musical laugh, and B. realized he wanted to hear it again.

  “Come on,” said A. to C., gesturing toward the main laboratory, “I want to introduce you to the others on the project, so you'll understand who you'll be working with.”

  As they walked down the corridor and she nodded her head in greeting, B. heard A. say to the girl, "And then, to thank you, I absolutely want to buy you dinner. It's the least I can do to thank you for the honor of being here to work with us."

  They walked away toward the heart of the lab, while B. watched them and a pang of annoyance and anger struck his stomach as he felt envy rising.

  He sniffed and, with anger rising inside him, strode quickly toward the terrace. He needed some air. Then the cold air came along with the blinding light of the sun, and suddenly everything slipped away, and Nico heard a voice in his mind:

  “Subject N_01, can you hear me? Is everything okay? Where are you now? Describe.”

  The Archivist's voice echoed in his mind as Nico looked around. He was in a white room; nothingness stretched out around him and the only real perception was the floor beneath his feet.

  Nico felt short of breath, he didn't know what he had seen, who those people were, or who he had been; he needed to get out.

  From the back of his throat came a hoarse voice, beyond the lump that tightened his throat, a single command: “Interrupt... Interrupt integrity check.”