Riley returned to his room and let the door slide shut behind him. The faint hum of the InfiNet pod filled the space, pressing against the quiet like a constant reminder of the choices he had yet to make. His groceries sat untouched on the desk—neatly arranged but somehow already mocking in their smallness. How could they represent the sum of a day that had cost so much?

  He sat heavily on the edge of the pod, the chill of its surface sharp against his legs. Outside the narrow window, the city glowed faintly as neon lights painted streaks of muted color across the walls. Riley stared into the middle distance, letting the silence wrap around him while the weight of the day pressed steadily downward.

  Thom's face surfaced in his mind again. He could almost hear the laughter they'd shared just hours before. It felt misplaced now—an echo of a moment from some other, kinder life. Riley rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers curling into his hair.

  "Eighteen years," he muttered into the stillness. "That's all he got."

  The words didn't sound real, even as he spoke them. How could they? Eighteen years of life, all boiled down to a single moment of misstep. His chest ached with the futility of it, a sensation so deep and raw it made him feel hollow.

  When his gaze fell on the InfiNet pod, Riley felt something shift. Its reflective surface seemed almost predatory in the dim light, a thing waiting for him. But it wasn't just an escape. The pod promised more than that—opportunity, possibility. A way out of the trap his life had become. For all its dangers, the InfiNet offered a freedom the real world could never match.

  Of course, those dangers weren't just stories.

  Riley leaned back against the pod, his fingers idly tracing the cool edges of its frame. At Helix, stories about the InfiNet grew in the gaps of their lives, woven from half-truths and imaginations desperate for escape. Kids whispered of players who logged in only to vanish forever, their pods left cold and empty. Some claimed hackers could hijack the system, pulling your consciousness into locked servers where you'd spend eternity trapped. The staff of Helix dismissed the tales outright, but that hadn't stopped them from embedding themselves in Riley's mind. Whether true or not, the stories had felt real enough to keep him out of the InfiNet for years.

  And it wasn't just the urban legends. The real, documented dangers were enough to give anyone pause. In the past, Riley overheard former orphans who returned to visit—those who'd scraped by just enough to long for their old life instead of the InfiNet's harsher realities. Without the protection of a guild, players like Riley were nothing more than prey. The InfiNet didn't need to kill you outright; it let others do it for you. And for some, logging out wasn't an option. Stories of "data lock," where corrupted avatars trapped players for days or weeks, weren't so easy to ignore.

  The fear was there. It clawed like a shadow, laughing at all the caution he lived by. But Riley had seen what caution bought. It bought isolation. It bought failure. It bought eighteen years, all boiled down to nothing but a name on a work roster and a body on a slab.

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  He stared at the pod, the glow of its activation panel reflected in his tired green eyes. Thom had been scared. Of course, he had. Riley could still see his wide-eyed fear at the LiteNet graduation and the hesitation in his every movement during their shift. Thom revealed his bravery by showing up anyway, even when fear may have made staying put so much easier.

  "Guess it's my turn to show up," Riley whispered.

  With trembling hands, he reached for the pod's activation button. The machine hummed to life beneath his touch, the lid sliding open to reveal the snug interior. He hesitated, just for a moment, before climbing inside. The neural headgear clicked into place, fitting snugly around his head. A faint tingling sensation spread across his scalp as the pod powered up.

  The hatch shut, and darkness swallowed him whole. Then, a single message blinked before his eyes:

  Initializing…?

  The pod's interior darkened further, the faint outlines of the room dissolving into black as the system fully booted. Riley's heart thudded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the threshold he was about to cross. A soft, mechanical chime echoed in his ears, followed by a single line of text that floated before him:

  Welcome, NEW USER!

  The words pulsed gently, inviting him to continue. Riley's breath hitched as more text materialized.

  Before proceeding, please acknowledge:

  The InfiNet contains inherent risks. Users are solely responsible for their decisions. We assume no liability for harm, injury, or permanent loss of any kind during use.

  Do you wish to continue? YES/NO…?

  Riley stared at the blinking cursor, his hand gripping the edge of the armrest as though he could steady himself with the physical world. For a moment, doubt surged, the weight of every cautionary tale and hard truth pressed against his chest. He had spent years convincing himself it wasn't worth the risk.

  But the truth was unavoidable: staying out had never been an option. Not really.

  "Yes," he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  The cursor blinked twice before shifting to a new screen.

  Please choose your USERNAME…?

  A transparent keyboard hovered into view. Riley hesitated, his mind cycling through potential choices. Each one felt too small, too tied to the person he'd been and the life he wanted to leave behind. He wouldn’t be Riley Bellmorrow here. He would be someone else.

  The name came to him slowly, like an echo from the part of him still holding on to hope. He typed deliberately, each letter carrying weight:

  A

  U

  R

  O

  N

  Confirm...?

  The system paused, processing the name before responding:

  Welcome, Auron. Your journey begins now.

  The screen faded, replaced by a brief, swirling kaleidoscope of colors. Riley—or Auron now—felt a peculiar tug, as though the pod itself was pulling him into its depths. The sensation was fleeting yet disorienting, like slipping beneath the surface of a vast, still ocean. A faint vibration spread through his limbs, followed by the distinct, almost imperceptible shift that signaled the connection to the InfiNet was complete.

  And then, it blinked into existence.