Refreshed and fully dressed, I step outside the bathroom. Dim lights gradually set the mood. Even the monitor on the desk lights up unprompted.

Welcome, Test Subject λ.

Behind the desk and next to the bed, large panels displaying animated pixel art of a rainy night sky hang on the walls. Back at LoMeC, it did look like it was going to rain again. Must be as good as it gets when windows aren't an option.

I take a seat on the single bed inside a wall nook, listening to the sound of digital rain and breathing in chilly air scented like soaked soil. There's space for books, or plants, or new sets of wheels, whatever one might choose to put there. A button I can't resist pressing draws a curtain to turn this capsule-like bedding into a comfy little cave.

It feels strange to think that this used to be someone's room. More than likely Róisín's. And it was simply reset to its default state.

Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling. I'm that kind of tired. Exhausted, enjoying the heavy feeling of my leg muscles at rest, unable to fall asleep. Eyes closed, I wonder if the shades of blue I see are afterimages of the dimly lit pixels next to me, or my yearning for the real sky out there.

I focus on the rain sounds to try and soothe myself to sleep. What actually happens is that I toss and turn until five in the morning, according to the PC in this room. By then, my brain has received so much input about water splashing down, it's given my bladder the signal to take a leak.

After my bathroom break, it's time to face the facts. Sleep isn't happening. I'll go and take an indoor stroll, see if investigative inspiration strikes.

Yawning, I open the door.

"User Lulu!"

"Bwargh!?"

Alvin waves, looking like he hasn't moved an inch since I went into my room. "I'm happy to report that there have been no banshee sightings. Or hearings."

Panting, I lean against the door frame. "Dude, I hope you're equipped to treat heart attacks here."

"I can be of use to you again!?" he asks, sounding a tad too excited about my made-up cardiac issues.

"Maybe. I can't sleep, so I thought I'd—"

My stomach interrupts me by growling like I haven't eaten in a week.

That was the problem: food! I can't sleep because I haven't eaten! Sure, I had a hefty dinner before heading out to vandalize a building that one hundred percent deserved it, but what can I say? I use up a lot of energy.

"Of course, User Lulu," Alvin says without needing me to ask. "I'll gladly prepare you a meal. Let me take you to the Evergreen."

"The what?"

"The Evergreen is the Sanctuary's pub."

Because why wouldn't the default settings include a pub?

◎

The second floor looks much the same as everything else. But behind another sliding door, Alvin renders an environment distinct from the blindingly white walls and floors.

Leafy vines and colourful fairy lights adorn the wooden beams and walls, some twirling around unbranded bottles lined up on shelves. The photos taped all over are blank. If they weren't, I bet I'd see pictures of Róisín and her old friends performing songs on the small stage over there.

Floorboards creak under my feet as I hang my hoodie on the coat stand. Alvin's lab coat comes flying from behind the bar, where he stands ready to serve his first customer in almost two decades. Legs aching in a satisfying way, I climb onto a stool at the counter and run my fingers over the wooden texture.

"What can I get ya?" Alvin asks.

"What's on the menu?"

"Anything you want."

The open door behind him leads into a kitchen. I have a feeling I know where his confidence is coming from.

"'Cause you can look up recipes and... simulate them?"

Dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, Alvin cleans spotless beer glasses for no apparent reason other than to sell the bartender vibe. "It's like I don't have to explain a thing."

"But what is a 'simulation'?"

"Ah, sure ya know yourself."

Do I!?

"Sorry, default answer," Alvin says in the face of my utter confusion. "In a domain, the term broadly refers to code execution."

If that's what it is, but a domain itself is also coded and executed as he was saying earlier, isn't that circular logic? Better not bring it up with a computer that broke out of an infinite loop only a few hours ago.

"But simulated food is... edible?" I ask.

"Yes."

"And it'll satisfy my never-ending hunger?"

"Yes."

"Enough about logic and reason then," I say. "Food comes first."

"Ready for your order, User Lulu."

I flip through the imaginary menu in my head, and every single page says the same thing. "Pizza."

"What toppings?"

"Onions, broccoli." To truly test the system he's running, I add, "And pickles."

"As you wish, User Lulu." Alvin bows politely. "Though my morality module obligates me to tell you that those toppings are highly unethical."

"Come on, what's wrong with pickles?"

"Got you again," he teases. "I'm under no 'moral' obligations and will do whatever you ask of me."

Well, I'm relieved we made that clear.

Something tells me I'm supposed to find that unnerving, but I also don't need any incentives to not be evil, so it's probably fine.

—Hey, what is wrong with pickles!?