A soft chime cut through Mav’s recovery suite. She looked up from the tangle of harsh, spiraling thoughts she’d been gnawing on, anger at her body, anger at circumstance, anger at fate—to find a massive man stepping through the doorway.

  He didn’t simply enter; he arrived, filling the threshold with a presence so physically commanding that the room itself seemed to shrink around him. This is Arthur? she thought, stunned. This tattooed, bearded, long haired behemoth is the tech geek Dr. Olivia was talking about? No fucking way. He looks like a surge era action, a darker, native born norse god type…, or a model for bears. Holy shit.’

  Arthur’s bright green eyes locked onto her with the warmth of a sunrise, and he smiled, wide, easy, disarmingly genuine. He stepped forward and extended a hand that looked like it could palm a bowling ball, and when Mav slid her fingers into his grasp she felt her pulse skip.

  Her gaze traced up the length of his bare arm, taking in the ink, the sun-browned skin, the sculpted strength under it. Only then did she register the sleeveless hoodie and board shorts, casual, comfortable, utterly confident. When her eyes drifted up to the curve of his bicep, heat rushed into her cheeks. He didn’t comment, though the flicker of amusement in his eyes suggested he’d noticed.

  “Hey, Mav, hope I can call you Mav, I’m Arthur,” he said in one long, enthusiastic breath that somehow didn’t sound rushed or careless at all. He radiated joy, like someone who genuinely loved what he did and couldn't help but spill that light into everyone around him. “I can’t wait to work with you. I think we’re gonna have amazing results. Truly amazing. The doc here is doing some really cool shit for your case.”

  Mav’s lips pulled into her first real smile in days, big, bright, unguarded. His enthusiasm was contagious, a warm gust of air pushing back the lingering fog of fear and bitterness. “I’m pleased to meet you too, Arthur. Mav is fine. And I’m open to whatever you and Dr. Olivia cook up for me. It’s not like I can run away,” she quipped, and for the first time she felt her laughter loosen the knots in her ribs.

  Arthur’s laugh boomed through the room, a deep rolling sound that made even the air vibrate. “Ha! That was good, Mav. First step to recovery is humor, and I should know, right, Doc?” he said, turning to Olivia with a raised fist.

  “Yes, Arthur, you certainly should,” Olivia answered, giving him a fist bump and a fond grin that softened the clinical sharpness she normally carried. “Arthur was one of my first patients for the nano-therapy, well, shoot, Arthur, it’s your story. Please share it with Mav. It’ll make her feel better.”

  “Well damn, Liv, putting me on the spot,” the big man groaned theatrically as he bumped her shoulder. Mav blinked, Liv? He called her Liv? Master Dwight barely survived calling her Doctor. This guy must either be fearless or insane.

  Arthur turned back to Mav and gestured toward her legs. “Okay, Mav, let’s move those sticks you call legs for a moment and I’ll tell you the quick version.” He gently lifted her feet, shifting her legs to make space for himself on the edge of the bed. His touch was casual, practical, but it hit her pride like a hammer.

  “Sticks? Motherfucker. These are my legs,” she started, rage filling her voice. She opened her mouth to continue but he interrupted her smoothly.

  “Easy there,” Arthur murmured, watching her eyes rather than her body, reading the emotional spike as if it were written across her skin. “Easy, I meant no insult. I meant what I said, humor is your starting point and poking at your own shit? That’s where the work begins.” He rested a hand lightly on her knee, the absence of sensation echoing its own cold kind of ache.

  He took a slow breath. “I sat where you are twelve years ago. Angry, bitter and depressed. Filled with rage at these lab coat wearing motherfuckers who told me to ‘do my best’ and ‘have a good attitude.’” His tone dipped into darkness, dry, raw and honest. “What the hell did they know? I was a dead legged special operator. You know what that is?” Mav shook her head.

  “Yeah, they don’t use those terms now. Back then I was what you’d call today an Elite Peacekeeper; Delta, SEAL, Ranger all rolled into one. A soldier trained to go anywhere and fix anything.” His voice softened around the edges and his hand flexed on her leg though she couldn’t feel it.

  “Anyway, long story short, I was in the jungles of Central America, back when this was all still the United States. Sensitive mission and it went sideways. During evac I took a round to the hip, bullet shattered, fragments shot upward, clipped my lower spine. Dropped me like a felled tree.”

  He paused. Olivia reached across to him, touching his wrist. Memory clouded his bright eyes like a storm moving across a field. He took a breath through it.

  “Shit, I tell this story all the time,” Arthur muttered, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “But you, you're something special. I don’t get this affected usually. So… thank you. Good to look at your darkness if you want to remember your light.” He tapped his hip gently.

  “Anyway, bang, down I go, hard. Dropping my teammate because I was carrying her back to the evac point. I can’t go into much more, because it's classified, but I dragged myself over to her and drag-pushed us up to a tree. I propped her up in the roots and dragged myself in front of her, laying my back against her, to be a bullet shield if I needed to be. I leveled my weapon and waited for anyone to come into range.”

  His gaze sharpened, seeing the memory as if through a clear lens. Mav didn’t move, didn’t breathe. This man was telling her a story of loss and survival in a way she had never heard, raw and unfiltered, but somehow not self pitying. It pulled her in.

  “They did come, sadly. I did my best and held the line as long as I could but two more rounds hit my vest, not penetrating but with enough force to nearly knock me out when it happened.” He gestured with his hand, mimicking the drunken flutter of a drone’s path. “AVIS drones saved our asses. Little bastards moved like they were alive, weaving and dodging like dragonflies with attitude.”

  A laugh escaped him. “One of them comes down, barrels hot, and hits me with the most British accent I’ve ever heard. ‘Hey mate, we heard you needed help.’ I knew then my life as an operator was done. Drones like those? Ground pounders like me were dinosaurs. Before you ask, she lived and does to this day. Last I checked she was an instructor for the elites and a damn good one.”

  He softened again. “So there I was, like you. In bed, feeling useless, hating the world and in walks this tiny Asian lady with a giant name and an even bigger attitude.” He waggled his brows at Olivia. “She tells me I can be her first guinea pig for a new nano-therapy using microscopic spiders to repair my spine.”

  Mav blinked. ‘He was the first human trial? Like she was for T.I.E.R.’ The revelation struck her like cold water, this man wasn’t just a miracle technician, he was a proof of concept, walking because someone took a risk on him the same way they were taking a risk on her.

  Arthur continued, voice going into storyteller rhythm. “First attempt didn’t take. Couldn’t get into the program. Tech was clunky, uncomfortable, temperature controls sucked. I couldn’t walk. Couldn’t run. Not enough immersion.” He grimaced like he’d tasted something sour. “But I was a master technician before I was a shooter, so I asked to see the hardware.”

  Mav could almost picture him, scowling at the equipment, arms crossed, brain already re-engineering everything in the room.

  “I could do better,” he said simply, “and I did. Wannabe gave me a workshop. I built what worked, what helped me believe and when I believed…” He smiled down at his legs. “I healed. They sent me to MIT. Made me head of their tech division. Gave me a lab the size of a small country. And most importantly, they gave me my legs.”

  He stood with a laugh and spun in a sloppy pirouette, laughing. Mav couldn't help the grin that crept onto her face. Her chest loosened, her hope stirred.

  Arthur knelt back beside her. “And that, little lady, is why I’m gonna do everything in my power to get you back on your feet. Like I said, Liv has cooked up…”

  “Arthur, Mav doesn’t need to know all the details just yet,” Olivia cut in smoothly, catching him mid flow with the precision of someone who’d done this before. Her tone was light but edged with just enough authority to arrest his momentum without bruising it.

  “I think we can safely say she understands that when it comes to the technical side, you are the guy for her. I’ll explain my side, thank you.” She gave him a small, knowing smile that took the sting out of the interruption but didn’t leave room for argument.

  It struck Mav how easily this tiny woman, this sharp-eyed, compact force of nature could stop the big man in his tracks with nothing but a few words and a look. Arthur could have bench pressed her one-handed and yet he deferred, not like a subordinate, but like someone who respected the hell out of her line in the sand.

  There was a history there, something layered and unspoken between them, and Mav felt the tug of curiosity before she shoved it aside. Not her business, not today.

  “Fine, fine, Liv, I’ll leave your creepy microspiders to you,” Arthur said, grinning as he rolled his shoulders back, shifting gears without losing any of his innate brightness. He turned that grin back on Mav, eyes alight.

  “But you, we’ve got some special shit coming. We have designed some really cool environments for you, stuff not on the market yet. I think your experience is going to be sooo cool.” The way he stretched the “so” into surfer charisma territory made it impossible not to smirk, and he rewarded himself with another booming laugh.

  “Nanospiders, dear,” Dr. Olivia corrected, deadpan, slipping a mock-spooky note into her voice. “Not microspiders.”

  “Ooooo, creepy,” Arthur replied, wiggling his fingers at her like a kid telling a campfire ghost story. Then his gaze flicked up and to the right, pupils shifting as his AVA overlay came online.

  “Mazor, schedule with Mav’s AVA for…” he paused, glancing at Mav, silently mouthing 2 p.m. tomorrow? She nodded, and he continued aloud, “...8 a.m. tomorrow to get her set up and scanned, then 2 p.m. logged in.”

  “Mav,” Goo’s voice chimed warm and close in her ear, “I have conferred with Mazor and Preplexa, that’s Annie’s AVA and we have worked it out. You are set for 8 a.m. with Jim and Arthur, then 2 p.m. to go live. We can talk when they leave.”

  There was a ripple of excitement in his tone that mirrored Arthur’s, like the AVA was picking up and amplifying the room’s momentum. Mav met Arthur’s eyes and nodded again, knowing he’d already received the same confirmation in his own HUD.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Great,” Arthur said, his smile back at full power. “Now, I do need to get one or two measurements from Mav, if you’re okay with that.” He pulled a wand-like device from his back pocket and held it up, a little flourish in the gesture, showman and engineer all at once.

  “I’ll leave you to take care of this, Arthur,” Dr. Olivia said, rising from her stool and smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her lab coat as she moved toward the door. At the threshold she stopped, glancing at a notification only she could see.

  “Oh, I just received a message. Mav, I almost forgot. TzuLao has asked to see you before your fitting and log-in tomorrow. They want to know if you are willing to meet.”

  The words hit Mav like a slap. For a heartbeat she just stared, the sound in the room dulling to a low hum as her brain processed the name. “Well that’s abrupt and about five days too late,” she spat, anger flaring up her spine. “It’s not like they can undo any of this. Must be mandated by the state. Some checkbox on a form about due diligence and closure.” The bitterness tasted metallic in her mouth.

  “Sure,” she said, the word sharp enough to cut. “Let them see what their callous actions caused.” She smacked her palms down onto her thighs, onto the legs that didn’t move, didn’t respond, didn’t feel it. “I have a few choice words for this TzuLao, or whatever their name is.” The snarl in her voice left no doubt: this wasn’t acceptance. This was a promise.

  Olivia and Arthur traded a look, concern tightening around the edges of their expressions. Mav didn’t see it, she was staring down at her legs, thumping them again as if she could force sensation back through sheer will and rage. Arthur exhaled slowly, his huge shoulders rising and falling once, then he moved.

  “Well then,” he said, coming forward with a kind of feral energy, “that’s settled. You’ll see this mysterious benefactor tomorrow and bitch slap them down. Does that feel good to you?” He leaned in, eyes locked on hers, green irises burning with intensity.

  “Does it? The idea of taking your righteous indignation out on someone else?” He crowded into her vision, his face filling her world, and she instinctively drew back. The shift from easygoing giant to something harder, sharper, was like stepping off a curb you didn’t see, sudden and jarring.

  “Arthur. Enough,” Olivia snapped, her voice cutting across the room like a scalpel.

  “Fuck no. Not nearly enough,” he fired back, not looking at her. “She…” He jabbed a finger into Mav’s shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to punctuate every word. “You have every right to be angry. To feel hurt, to rage, to want to make them feel your pain, your suffering. No one wants to take your agency away from you, feel your pain, feel your rage…”

  Then, in one breath, his entire demeanor shifted; his face softened, his hand slid from the jab into a careful wrap around the same shoulder he’d poked, thumb pressing warmth into the spot like an apology.

  “... but what if,” he went on quietly, “they’re already doing more to themselves than you ever could? Living in self-hatred. In the pain of causing pain, in doubt. Doing their best to give you a chance now because they can’t undo the past. Have you pondered that?”

  Mav tried to hold his gaze, tried to stare him down, but the intensity of it, the sincerity in it, broke through the wall of heat in her chest. Her eyes slipped away, dropping back to her motionless legs.

  “You don’t have to carry the burden of retribution, Mav,” Arthur said, his voice low and steady. “It is not yours to carry. It’s theirs. You’ve been given an amazing chance here, and if you can get on board with it, I genuinely believe you can have your legs back too.” He paused, the length of the silence nearly uncomfortable, giving her the space to process her words.

  “But I’ll tell you this straight, even with all the cool tech we have, if you stay full of rage, if every moment in there feels like a setup, then you’ll never believe what you’re experiencing. You’ll know it's an illusion, our illusion, and you won’t trust it and believe,” he lifted his hand from her shoulder to gently tip her chin up with two fingers, bringing her eyes back to his, “belief is what makes the magic.”

  “But I’m so angry,” she whispered, the words tearing free as her voice cracked. A single tear slid down her cheek, hot and humiliating.

  “I know, kid,” he said softly, thumb brushing the tear away. “I was too.” A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “And maybe we can channel that anger into something more constructive. But not while you’re so determined to be the entitled angry bitch.”

  “Entitled bitch?” she exploded, slamming her fist into his broad chest. “Ugh!” She hit him again, harder, aiming at muscle that might as well have been concrete. On the third strike he leaned in and wrapped his arms around her, hauling her against him in a fierce, immovable hug. She kept hitting, fists thumping into his back now, her hands throwing more pain than her strength ever could.

  Across the bed, Olivia watched as Mav’s blows slowed, then softened, breaking apart into ragged sobs. Arthur caught her gaze and gave a small nod, I’ve got her.

  Her body shook with each sob, the grief ripping out of her in waves that had nowhere else to go. Arthur held her through it, his big hands moving in slow, steady patterns, one rubbing circles between her shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of her head. He didn’t shush her. He didn’t tell her it was okay. He just stayed, a human anchor in the middle of the storm.

  Eventually the sobs tapered off into quiet tears, then into hiccuping breaths. She pulled back a little, face flushed, eyes swollen, noticing the dark wet patch blooming across the front of his hoodie.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, swiping under her eyes and reaching for a tissue.

  “It’s a hoodie,” he shrugged. “Not a sacred text.” The joke was gentle, soft footed, and it tugged at the corner of her mouth despite the rawness in her chest. “Let me get those measurements, and I’ll get out of your hair, okay?”

  “Sure,” she said, voice frayed and small but steadier than before. “Arthur… thank you.”

  “For what? Pushing your buttons?” he grinned. “Anytime.” He lifted the wand again. “I need to measure your eyes for new contacts. They’ll replace your old adaptive set. If you lay your head back, I’ll scan your eyes quickly.”

  Mav eased back against the raised portion of the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the faint hum of the scanner washed over her face. A soft, invisible grid of red light passed across her eyes, collecting data points with silent efficiency.

  “Got ’em,” Arthur announced after a moment, the wand emitting a quiet chirp. “And the specs are already sent to the 3D printer for fabrication.” He flicked his fingers idly in the air, bringing up a virtual keyboard only he could see. “What are your favorite three colors together?”

  “Um…” Mav closed her eyes, seeing one of her favorite paintings at home in her mind’s eye, ink-like blooms drifting across canvas. “I really like an iridescent purple that fades to midnight blue, with gunmetal gray and splashes of rouge so dark it’s almost black.”

  “Oh, that is very cool,” Arthur said, enthusiasm reigniting. His fingers danced across keys that weren’t there, the rhythm of someone composing something they already half-saw in their head. “There, order’s in. I hope you’re gonna like what I’ve cooked up for you.” He stood to his full height and held out his fist. She bumped it with a shy little smile, still embarrassed by her earlier eruption but grateful she hadn’t scared him off.

  “Look,” he added, tone softening again. “Let it go for tonight, okay? You’re still angry. You’re still hurting. Someone absolutely needs to carry that weight and pay for what happened. Just… remember, it’s not your job to make that happen. It’s theirs.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow to set you up. First time takes a little while. Then we’ll rock and roll.”

  “Oh Arthur,” Mav said, the thought finally surfacing. “I forgot to ask… what is time compression?”

  He smiled. “The secret sauce, oh that’s where the magic happens. But I can see you’re exhausted, and you’ve had one hell of a day. Mind if we shelve that till tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted, feeling the weight of the day settle over her like a blanket. “We can wait. I’m really tired. I’ll ask Goo to pull up some stuff for me to watch on VR gaming and Eclipse Nexus so I can at least pretend I know what I’m getting into. MMOs, right? RPGs?”

  “Yeppers,” he said, the word somehow not ridiculous in his mouth. “That’s the language. It’ll give you a good foundation for what we’re dropping you into. I’ll see you tomorrow. Need anything else right now?”

  She shook her head.

  “Excellent then. Until we meet again, peace,” he boomed, giving her a two-fingered salute before stepping out and letting the door slide shut behind him.

  The room felt strangely quiet without him, like someone had turned down the brightness by a notch. Mav exhaled slowly. “Wow, Goo. I never would’ve guessed in a trillion years that he’s the lead design tech for Wannabe. What a total enigma.”

  “An accurate assessment,” Goo replied. “Mazor is similarly complex. Perhaps that is why they function so well together.”

  Mav nodded, suddenly exhausted. “Okay buddy… give me a crash course on Eclipse Nexus. VR gaming history. And whatever the hell all these terms mean. Apparently… I have to become a gamer.”

  “Very well,” Goo replied, a hint of enthusiasm creeping into his otherwise smooth tone. “I’ll keep it brief… for now.”

  “Brief would be nice, Goo. I’m exhausted.”

  “Understood. First, VR gaming history from 2020 onward, the pivot point came with the third-generation neural interface rigs. No more clunky goggles or heavy gloves, just lightweight haptic mesh and adaptive light visors. That’s when immersion hit the first serious plateau. But the real revolution began in 2075 when WannabeWayneTech integrated nanostim into public gaming hardware.”

  Mav grimaced. “So people were letting these… nanospiders crawl around their brains voluntarily?”

  “Technically, yes. Though they were far simpler than your medical nanos. The early units only mapped sensory cortex signals for visual and tactile feedback. No motor neuron integration yet, which is what TIER now does flawlessly.”

  Goo continued, his cadence like a guided tour. “Eclipse Interactive has cornered the MMO market. They blended cinematic storytelling with vast procedural environments. Players weren’t just running missions; they were living entire second lives, those ‘lives’ becoming indistinguishable from reality.”

  “Okay, MMO again — massive multiplayer…?”

  “Massively Multiplayer Online,” Goo confirmed. “Persistent worlds where millions log in, each controlling an avatar, a character they build, grow, and often… obsess over. Many MMOs are also RPGs, role playing games where your character gains skills, equipment, and abilities through experience. The investment of time, the drive to improve your avatar are powerful motivators.”

  Mav frowned. “So, if I buy into this… I’m supposed to care enough about a fake body in a fake world to trick my real one into working again?”

  “That is the distilled essence,” Goo agreed. “But there is more. In a TIER MMO, you will be your avatar, every sight, every sound, every step will register as your own. Your brain will not differentiate between walking in-game and walking in reality. This is why belief as Arthur stated, is essential.”

  She rubbed her temples. “Alright, what about Eclipse Nexus specifically?”

  “Eclipse Nexus is Eclipse Interactive’s flagship TIER compatible MMO. It launched precisely thirty two days ago to record shattering engagement. The game has three scenarios, science fiction, post apocalyptic survival, and high fantasy, offering sprawling cities, broken worlds, and ancient ruins.” Images of the three scenarios flashed in her HUD as he spoke.

  “The physics are adaptive, meaning gravity, terrain resistance, and even muscle fatigue scale according to the environment. Your avatar is customizable to the cellular level and, notably for you, physical abilities can exceed your real-world limits without triggering neural dissonance.”

  Mav snorted. “Neural dissonance?”

  “When your brain realizes it’s being lied to,” Goo explained. “For example, if your avatar could suddenly fly without the proper conditioning period, your inner ear and motor neurons would rebel, often violently. Vomiting is common. Or fainting.”

  She groaned. “Great. So not only do I have to play pretend, I have to do it gradually so I don’t puke in a tank I’m not in.”

  “That is a succinct if inelegant summary,” Goo agreed, entirely unbothered.

  Mav leaned back against the bed. “Alright, Goo. Tomorrow at 2 p.m., I log into this thing. Between now and then, I need to at least not sound like an idiot when Arthur starts talking tech terms, but I also need a nap.”

  “Then allow me to compile a priority glossary,” Goo offered. “Including MMO slang, combat role classifications, economy systems, crafting mechanics, and…”

  “Goo. Small words. Bullet points. And only what I need to not embarrass myself.”

  There was a pause, a purely artificial one, as if Goo were sighing. “Very well, Mav. Compiling now. By the time you wake from your nap, you will have a streamlined crash course, complete with interactive simulations.”

  She closed her eyes. “Good. Wake me if TzuLao messages or calls. Otherwise… I’m clocking out.”

  “As you wish. Sleep well, Mav. When you wake we’ll go over the background, then rest again. Tomorrow will be… significant.”

  The way Goo said it sent a faint shiver down her spine.