The alarm clock buzzed like a relentless hornet. Freddie slapped it off, groaning as he rolled out of bed. He looked at the couch where he had slept (again), then at the bed where Selena was sprawled out diagonally, snoring softly.

"Selena," Freddie whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Selena, wake up. I have to go."
Selena's eyes snapped open. No grogginess, no rubbing her eyes. Instant boot-up. "Go? Is the server shutting down again?"

"No, I have to go to school. College. My classes start in an hour."

Selena sat up, the duvet falling away. Thankfully, she was still wearing the t-shirt and sweatpants he had forced her into last night. "School? Define school."

"It's... a place where you go to download information into your brain so you can get a job and buy ramen," Freddie explained, grabbing his backpack.

"I wish to acquire this data. I will accompany you." She moved to get out of bed.

"No!" Freddie shouted, perhaps a little too loudly. He held up a hand like a traffic cop. "Absolutely not. You are nowhere near ready for a college campus. You tried to fight a stray dog yesterday. You are staying here."

Selena pouted, her lower lip trembling with pixel-perfect sadness. "But my directive is to be by your side."

"Your directive for today is 'Standby Mode,'" Freddie said firmly. He pointed to the TV. "Watch that. Read my comic books. Do not answer the door. Do not touch the stove. Do not leave this apartment. I will be back at 3:00 PM."
He backed out of the room slowly, as if leaving a cage with a tiger in it, and locked the door.

Two hours later, Freddie sat in his History of Western Civilization class, staring blankly at the whiteboard. He felt like a hollow shell of a human being. His hair was messy, his eyes had dark circles, and he was vibrating with caffeine and anxiety.

"Dude," whispered the guy sitting next to him, a chill guy named Marcus. "You look like absolute crap. Did you pull an all-nighter gaming again?"

Freddie rested his forehead on the cool laminate of the desk. "It's been... a hectic weekend, Marcus. You have no idea."
"What happened? Finally talk to a girl?" Marcus joked, nudging him.

"Actually, ye-" Freddie stopped himself. He couldn't say, 'Actually, yes, my computer waifu materialized in my room and roundhouse kicked me.'

"My... uh... cousin. Is visiting. From... far away. She's a handful. Very high maintenance. Doesn't speak the language well."

"Ah, family drama. Brutal," Marcus nodded sympathetically.

The bell rang, signaling the end of his second class. Freddie let out a long sigh. Two down, one to go. His Psych 101 class was all the way across campus.

Just one more hour, he told himself. Then I can go home and make sure she hasn't burned the apartment down.

The campus quad was bustling. Students were throwing frisbees, eating lunch on the grass, and rushing between buildings. Freddie kept his head down, trying to blend into the crowd.

"FREDDIE!"

The voice cut through the ambient noise like a jagged knife. It was loud, cheerful, and terrifyingly familiar.

Freddie froze mid-step. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. No. Please, God, no. Not here.

"FREDDIE! I FOUND YOU!"

He turned around slowly, praying it was a hallucination.

It wasn't.

Standing at the top of the library steps, waving frantically, was Selena.

She had found the jacket he bought her-the oversized zip-up hoodie. However, she had apparently decided that the jeans and t-shirt were "bloatware" and had removed them.

She was wearing the hoodie, unzipped wide open. Underneath, she was wearing only the items she had picked out at the store: the lacy purple push-up bra and the tiny black thong.

The entire quad went silent. The frisbee game stopped. People eating sandwiches mid-bite froze. Three hundred pairs of eyes looked at Selena, then followed her line of sight directly to Freddie.

"FREDDIE!" She began to run toward him, the open jacket flapping behind her like a cape of indecency.

"Oh sweet mother of..." Freddie didn't finish the sentence. Instinct took over.
He dropped his backpack and sprinted toward her. As she reached him, arms open for a hug, Freddie tackled her. He didn't hit her hard, but he scooped her up, spinning her around so her back was to the crowd, and frantically tried to pull the jacket closed over her chest.

"Why are you running? Did we trigger a boss battle?" Selena asked excitedly, looking around.

"Cover yourself! Cover yourself!" Freddie hissed, his face burning so hot he thought his glasses might melt. "Why are you naked?!"

"I am not naked!" Selena huffed, trying to push his hands away. "I am wearing the high-mobility armor set we acquired! The denim leg-coverings were restricting my movement speed. I needed to find you efficiently!"

"You're in your underwear in the middle of a college campus!"

"Your world has stupid rules!" she shouted. "In the game, less armor means higher agility stats! It's basic logic, Freddie!"

"Hey! You two!"

A bicycle siren chirped. A campus police officer, a heavyset man with a mustache that had seen better days, rolled up on a mountain bike. He looked at Freddie, then at Selena (who was currently being held together by Freddie's trembling hands), and sighed.

"Is there a problem here, son?" the officer asked.

"No! No problem, Officer!" Freddie squeaked. "Just... uh... performance art! Theater majors! We're rehearsing!"
Selena looked at the officer. "Are you an NPC? You have very low-resolution textures."

The officer frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Selena, shut up," Freddie whispered frantically.

"He is blocking our path," Selena observed. She looked the cop up and down. "I could probably take him. His stance is weak." She shifted her weight, preparing to throw a kick.

Freddie clamped a hand over her mouth. "She's sick! She's having an episode! A mental... break! She doesn't know where she is!"

The officer paused. He looked at Selena's wide, confused eyes, then at Freddie's sheer panic. The tension hung in the air for a solid five seconds.

Then, the officer's shoulders slumped. "Ah. Yeah. My mother-in-law has those. Thinks she's the Queen of England whenever she misses her meds."

"Exactly!" Freddie nodded vigorously.
L "She thinks she's... a video game character. I'm just taking her home to... reboot her."

"Alright, get her out of here. And zip her up, for crying out loud. You're distracting the freshmen."

Back at the apartment, the silence was heavy.

Freddie sat on the couch, head in his hands. Selena sat on the floor, fully dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt again, looking annoyed.

"I do not understand the hostility," Selena said, crossing her arms. "I successfully navigated the map, located your position, and optimized my travel gear. That is a mission success."

Freddie looked up, his eyes pleading. "Selena, listen to me carefully. In this world, you cannot show your... 'chesticles' or your 'loot box' to the public. It's not about stats. It's not about agility."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about jail! We almost went to jail!" Freddie sighed, rubbing his temples. "People don't walk around in underwear unless they are at the beach or... well, that's it really."

Selena tilted her head, processing this. "So, the social algorithm requires lower mobility in exchange for higher reputation?"

"Yes," Freddie said. "Exactly. Clothes equal reputation. No clothes equal Game Over."

Selena nodded slowly. "Understood. I will equip the uncomfortable leg-prisons next time." She paused, then smiled. "But the look on that NPC's face was funny."

Freddie groaned and let himself fall back onto the couch cushions. "I'm never going to graduate."