Despite the hour-long orientation, Fee still had to ask a friendly Sergeant, who directed her to the entrance of Virtua-tivity & Sensology on the fifteenth floor.

  Those aren't even real words.

  In stark contrast to the Med-levels, the V&S department was laid out like a high-end clinic with its smooth walls and waxed bamboo floorboards. Passing through, she was surprised to see cubicles go from opaque to crystal clear with the touch of a button. Almost everyone was immersed in a handheld slate board that spun diagrams in glittering orange outlines.

  Where are the Tote bags and essential oils?

  Asking around, she was directed to the 'Haptic Plant', a large open-plan room made up of smoky grey panels. Bubble-shaped immersion pods were studded on one side and attached to fat rubber cables snaking down from the ceiling. Dim halogen bars lined the walls with lilac neon strips. A stern-looking blonde woman in a green visor and red smock stepped to Fee's side with a simple clipboard.

  "Help you?"

  "I am looking for Doctor Poop-in-well?"

  The woman’s mood darkened. "Excuse you?"

  Fee handed her the yellow note.

  Upon reading, the woman relaxed a little and was even amused.

  "That cheeky bitch." She said, with a wisp of a smile. "I am Dr Poppelwell. You must be the esteemed Ms Green. You'll be in pod five."

  Fee followed Poppelwell to a doughnut-shaped console, surrounded by an array of monitors and studied her reflection in the blackened glass.

  "What goes on here?" Fee asked.

  "Virtua-tivity. Don't ask, it was a focus group thing. Here, we devise a number of simulations, such as capturing the flag, base raid, or anything else related to stealth. People come to learn new skills or sharpen old ones. All isolated without guidance. It just happens, a custom program has been ordered especially for you."

  "Why me?"

  "A certain higher-up reckons you are lacking in some departments."

  "I’m supposed to be a test pilot.”

  The doctor uttered a dark chuckle.

  "Oh, you thought it was that easy?"

  "I'm in the top ten, which means..."

  "It means you got a foot in the door, nothing more. We're not in the business of hiring any old gamer; it doesn't work that way. Anyone can use a cheat code, mod or hack. This place is used to test their true skill. I am the gatekeeper, and I know all the tricks." Poppelwell lifted some papers on her clipboard. "First things first, you need to get suited up. Go through the yellow door on the right."

  "Suited up?"

  "You need a Haptic suit for the program, then all will be revealed."

  "I'm getting really tired of hearing that." Fee said. After ten minutes, she returned wearing what looked like a wetsuit housing large sockets down the back. It felt as if someone had sprayed rubber onto her body. "So what's next?"

  "Come with me."

  They strolled over to one of the five black pods. The interior was overlaid with glossy white slats, like the inside of an eggshell. In the centre stood a circular, omnidirectional treadmill, near a VR helmet with a flip-down visor. Poppelwell plugged large black cables into Fee's spinal ports before handing over the helmet. Satisfied, everything was locked in place, the woman left the room in complete darkness. After twenty seconds, the interior went 'clunk' as a grid of bright green lights filled the area. Feedback crackled through hidden speakers.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "According to someone who shall remain nameless," She said. "You need to complete this before any real flying can take place. 'Call it a tutorial or ‘some nerd crap'; her words. Anything that goes wrong will result in an emergency evacuation."

  "I reckon I’ll be having one of those anyway."

  "She said you would make that kind of a joke."

  Fee pulled on the helmet and flipped down the mask, she could see a single green line speeding from the horizon and coming toward her. Suddenly, Fee's body jerked as everything fizzled into a new reality. She had arrived in clearing gear on a cliff top under a brilliant blue sky. Once again, the visuals were so immersive that she could not tell how any of it could be computer-generated, where a cold breeze prickled her skin, and the warmth of a midday sun baked her cheeks. She could even feel the weight of sunglasses on her nose.

  On the edge, a flimsy rope bridge was tied to a couple of poles and buffeted by crosswinds. Out of sheer panic, she turned around only to be blocked by the side of a mountain. This brought on an immediate bout of nausea causing her to sink into a panic-fuelled ball.

  "I'm okay, I'm okay." She said, out loud. "I need to get warmed up."

  There was no response. Isolated without guidance, those were the rules. Fee gathered herself and faced the bridge. It took all her strength of will to peek over the edge, where Gossamer clouds drifted over a patchwork of fields. Stepping back, a finger of ice felt its way up her spine; as breathing became erratic; chopped into hard gulps.

  "Nope." She said. "Nope-nope-nope. Board the nope train to Nopeville. Your cargo of Nope has arrived."

  The next hour was one of trial and error.

  Many times were spent retreating from the bridge, freezing completely or pacing around. Not once did Fee venture further than six feet from the edge, she could only stamp her feet in frustration.

  I'm better than this.

  The more Fee ran back to the start, the more annoyed she became. Slowly, she found it in herself to brave the howling abyss. Fee tried again, focusing on the red ribbon which marked the halfway point. Slow going at first, keep it steady and don’t rush. Every advance felt like a victory, a promise to herself that imaginary outcomes would not break her. Gripping both sides of the bridge, she closed her eyes and counted...one step...two step, There’s the wood that always creaks. Ignore it. Three steps. Four steps. How many more? It could have been thirteen or fifteen, it varied. If only she could block out the moaning winds and the swaying of the bridge itself.

  Who needs to cross a bridge this high up a mountain? Idiots, that’s who!

  Sliding her hands across the rope, she felt something silky and thin. It was the ribbon. Checking to make sure, she popped one eye open and glanced down. A palpable relief fell away, seeing his giant psychological hurdle overcome. One she would bask in for a full twenty seconds, before slowly crouching into a ball.

  Something blared, and the pod door opened.

  "I had to stop it," Poppelwell said. "You were going to be lying there all day."

  "I nearly had it, I was so close.”

  "Look. These fear programs are designed to test your limits. No one gets them right the first time. I would be annoyed if you did, because you'd have wasted my time. I saw your battle in the game; you were mercurial. All you have to do is find that version of yourself."

  "Thanks, but I don't know how to get it back."

  "Be it as it may, the longer you wait, the more you keep everyone back."

  “Everyone? Really?”

  “We can’t have late arrivals in the top ten. It’s go together or none at all.”

  "I understand," Fee said, heading to the dressing room.

  "Also, tell your Mom she owes me a twenty.”

  Fee smiled grimly and paused at the doorway.

  "Do you know how to get to the Dorms from here?" She asked.

  "The Burrows?" Poppelwell said. "Oh, Hun, you've got a walk ahead of you."

  ***

  The Burrows were three perfectly round gateways that led into the depths of the Space Station. Fee waved her palm in front of a reader pad and the third set of double doors slid back with a faint whirr. The ramp sloped down toward a brightly lit tunnel, with overhead struts forming a vertebra-like structure, making her feel like she was walking inside a giant snake. The tunnel swung right, and she was met with an avenue of doors, each ringed in neon numbers from five to fifty.

  Fee's dorm was number nine, right near the end. Stopping at the entrance, a blackened smear caught the rim of her vision. A shape so fleeting, it snagged on the mind's eye like an angler's hook. She could not be certain, but it seemed to be appeared to be some sort of Cow-Skull in a dark robe. One which wavered nearby, before dissipating quickly.

  Keep it together.

  She flashed her palm against the electronic pad. The door slid back to reveal the Scots woman from the Canteen.

  "S'up, roomie?" The woman said cheerfully.

  "Ah, balls!"