Squawks of seagulls filled the saline air. Malkav was facedown in the sand, the gentle fingers of the ocean caressing his bare feet. He gradually pried himself up onto his elbows and knees, rubbing the sand from his eyes.

“What happened?” he muttered to himself, shielding his eyes from the blaring sun. He looked towards the water, staring out at a distant boat and seagulls swooping under the pillowed clouds. “How did I get to the beach…?”

Though Malkav had grown up on the east coast of the United States, he hadn’t visited the beach very often. This was all new. Picking up a handful of quartz sand, he let it trickle through his fingers and noted that it was white and warm to the touch. Where was the pollution? The lack of color? The ugly, half-naked people rubbing sun tan lotion over their body? There was none of that. There was only beauty and color, glitters of crystal in the ocean and an endless sea of blue reaching out to the horizon and over the sky.

“Oh, no,” he said, “I don’t think we’re in America anymore.”

Then he remembered the game. He patted his head, feeling around for the helmet, but it wasn’t there anymore. He looked down at his clothes and saw only tattered rags, barely enough to keep him covered. A small, rusty dagger lay in the sand at his feet. He reached down slowly, picking it up and pressing its blade against his palm. It wasn’t even sharp enough to cut through his pale skin.

“So this is Neverquest,” he said in awe as he rose. “I wonder where Siarra is…”

As if on cue, he turned around and ran into something hard and yet soft at the same time. He stumbled back. It was a wall made out of some kind of plushy fabric. He touched it, feeling it squish lightly under his touch. He started to walk around it and then stared in marvel as the wall suddenly rose and, casting a dark shadow over him. Screaming, he dove to the side, dodging the enormous wall as it slammed down into the ground, blinding him for a moment as it kicked up sand.

He quickly rubbed his eyes, fumbling for his dagger. He managed to get a hold on it and tried to stab it into the wall, but it wouldn’t cut through the thick fabric.

“Hey, don’t do that!” a voice thundered from above. “I just got these slippers.”

Malkav froze. Was the wall talking to him? His eyes drifted upward. He saw the wall of fabric eventually turn into a wall of human flesh that continued up for some way before it disappeared behind a gigantic robe, big enough to cover a jet plane. The robe was all he could see until he staggered backwards, his neck craning all the way up, and then he saw Siarra’s familiar face looking down at him. She had the same unforgettable hair that she always had—short, scooped around her head in a half-circle, dyed an amethyst purple—with a fiery tiara tucked over her brow with only one strand of hair dangling over her left eye. She waved down at him.

The dagger fell from Malkav’s grip.

He collapsed in the sand next to it.

“I know you’re a newbie, but you can’t die just by looking at me,” Siarra said, bending down and poking Malkav with her crystal wand. “I’m not that powerful.” She pricked him again. He flinched. “Wakey, wakey!”

He blinked. He was still staring up at her, now on his back. “…You could’ve told me your character was a giant.”

“I’m not,” she giggled.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what would you call a 100 foot tall person?”

“I’m not 100 feet tall! You’re about six inches.” She shrugged her shoulders, which were as round as her face. “Comes with being a newbie.”

“As if this wasn’t bad enough already,” Malkav muttered, picking up his dagger and tucking it into his frayed leather belt. “I’m almost naked.”

“Serves you right! Every other MMORPG I’ve played has girls running around in armor that couldn’t protect an insect.” She smiled down at Malkav. He wasn’t smiling back. “Aw, come on… Give the game a try. You might like it.”

“Siarra, look at me! What am I going to do—nip the bad guys in the ankles?”

“They’re called ‘mobs’…”

“What?”

“The things you fight, they’re called ‘mobs’ or ‘monsters’. Nobody says ‘bad guys’. That’s so…newbish.”

“Fine, whatever they’re called… How am I supposed to fight them?”

“You got a weapon there, don’t you? …Little as it is, haha!”

Malkav looked down at his useless dagger.

“Don’t worry,” she promised him, “I’ll teach you everything! I’m a level 53 sorceress. Nothing’s going to hurt you with me around.” Then she grinned playfully. “Unless I let it.”

“Okay, fine… But only for a couple hours. I have homework to do.”

“That’s plenty of time! See, here’s the storyline… You’re a sailor returning home from war. Unfortunately, your ship got caught in a nasty storm. It swayed back and forth, dodging lightning, until water flooded the decks and you were cast overboard. The rest of your crew was killed at sea. You floated amongst the wreckage, barely conscious, and washed on shore here—some distant, uncharted island—with nothing but ragged clothes and an old rusted dagger on your person. You’re starving, injured, and weak. In the distance, you can see a town. Do you see it?”

Malkav squinted. “I think so.”

“Okay! Your first mission is to get there alive.”

“What are you—the narrator of this story or something?”

“No, but you were lying unconscious while the introduction video clip was playing. I summarized it for you.”

“Oh. …Well, thanks.”

Though Malkav had grown up on the east coast of the United States, he hadn’t visited the beach very often. This was all new. Picking up a handful of quartz sand, he let it trickle through his fingers and noted that it was white and warm to the touch. Where was the pollution? The lack of color? The ugly, half-naked people rubbing sun tan lotion over their body? There was none of that. There was only beauty and color, glitters of crystal in the ocean and an endless sea of blue reaching out to the horizon and over the sky.

“Oh, no,” he said, “I don’t think we’re in America anymore.”