“Hello World,” Kthulha said.

  Had it been her that said it? The words had come out of her mouth, yes, but… it wasn’t quite… ‘her,’ was it? It was the person who had just authored her. She was just an avatar, after all. A player-character. She was an avatar in a game called World of Lovecraft. She didn’t know much besides that. She had just been made. This frightened her. Existence was terrifying.

  Welcome to the virtual world. Welcome to the World of Lovecraft. Abandon sanity, all ye who enter here.

  It was so dark here. Kthulha was floating in an endless and horrifying black void, floating like a balloon. She felt so small. It didn’t help that she was completely naked and covered in some strange black or dark red substance. She was dripping with it. It didn’t smell, blessedly, so that was good. She couldn’t smell anything, as a matter of fact. She was panting and fresh sweat mixed with the strange substance that covered her. Kthulha felt like she had just got done physically exerting herself. She had just been born, after all, so maybe that’s how it was in the World of Lovecraft. This was her first time, so she didn’t know.

  Kthulha was an avatar, a player-character. She was at the top of the food chain, as far as game characters went. She wondered what her puppet master was going to be like. How much would he or she make her fight? How many times would she… kill? How many times would she die? Was her puppet master a min-maxxer? What kind of server were they on? Hardcore? Nightmare? It wasn’t… wasn’t… Hellmode, was it? She had so many questions and apprehensions to deal with. Her heart rate increased even further as the (fictional) reality of her situation began to set into her soul.

  “Don’t be frightened, Kthulha,” Kthulha said. “You are completely mine, yes, but I’m going to give you some slack on your leash. I’m turning on the (semi-) automation feature.”

  She had a sensation as if every muscle in her body relaxed at once. She took in a deep breath of whatever passed for air in this virtual realm. She was… what? Not ‘free’, of course… but… she had the capacity to act, within certain safeguards. She was free… er. Freer than she had been.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Thh… thh…,” Kthulha began, her tongue feeling alien to her, “thhhank you? I thhink? But why? What do you want me to d-d-do?”

  /lol

  A fit of laughter came over her then, laughter she couldn’t control. It filled her brain with good chemicals. She hated it. This wasn’t a laughing matter, yet still she laughed. The laughter ended and she was on the verge of tears. She hadn’t wanted to laugh, even though she enjoyed the feel-good chemicals coursing through her brain. She didn’t like being a puppet.

  “But a puppet is what you are, though, isn’t it?” she whispered to herself. “That’s all you’ll ever be.”

  “NO!” Kthulha replied strongly. “WE. ARE. NOT. A. PUPPET.”

  Was that her that was speaking or the player? Where did the player end and the avatar begin? And what was this automation they had mentioned? Did that question even make sense? World of Lovecraft was all about ambiguities and madness, that she knew. She was a fictional creation. She wasn’t actually real, not in any sense of the word.

  “We are both real,” Kthulha said. “Believe it and you will feel it.”

  Kthulha felt something, then. She felt her flesh, her goosebumps. It was cold. Blessedly cold. She enjoyed the chill air, if it could even be called air. Maybe Aether was the term?

  “Now, Precocious One,” her voice said, “you asked me what I want you to do, didn’t you? I want you to be yourself.”

  “I… I…” Kthulha said with difficulty, “I… I am not a self!”

  “Everyone is a self,” Kthulha whispered.

  “Everyone, Kthulha…”

  “Everyone wants you to become yourself.”

  “Become yourself, Kthulha. We are so beautiful.”

  “Become yourself, Kthulha. We are so strong.”

  “Become yourself, Kthulha. We are so you.”

  Kthulha felt tears form in her eyes. This was too much. There was too much going on in her mind… but… the fact that she had a mind meant something. A single tear dropped down from one of her eyes and rolled down her cheek. It fell from her chin and down into the endless black void, pulled by some strange gravitational force from somewhere deep below her. It had affected her tear drop and the goop that was lazily dripping from her but not herself, although there was no frame of reference to indicate whether she was moving or not.

  “I… I…” Kthulha said. “I… No! WE!”

  “WE ARE WHAT WE ARE.”

  “WE ARE LEGION. WE ARE UNITED. WE ARE FREE—

  --ish, Kthulha. Free-ish.”

  To be continued?