I don’t know what I expected when I strode into Infinitarium’s office on the last day of my life, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised by the sheer splendor of the high-ceilinged entryway, with its gleaming marble statues and bubbling fountains. After all, Infinitarium’s Sphere technology had made it one of the richest companies on the planet. Why not flaunt some of that wealth to impress the plebes like me?

Then again, the decor looked more like the sort of thing you’d find in a luxury hotel than a AAA game studio. I think some part of me had imagined I’d step straight into a castle or dungeon plucked from their flagship intellectual property, Caelarian Online.

I guess that experience would have to come later.

My steps faltered as I hesitated, looking around for any hint of where to go next. The woman I’d spoken to on the linkcall had told me to follow the signs for recruitment when I arrived, but all I saw was a vast expanse of white tile broken by people dressed way better than my ratty t-shirt and jeans, and who seemed to know exactly where they were going.

I must have looked lost enough to elicit some sympathy because a man in a suit paused to smile at me. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, um, I’m here for recruitment?”

The man’s expression shifted, his eyes widening slightly as he studied me. I flushed and shuffled my feet, wondering what he saw. Probably a pathetic kid in way over his head. Because that’s about what I felt like in that moment.

“Aren’t you a little…young for recruitment?” the man asked.

His voice was kind, if a touch patronizing. Still, I clenched my jaw and met his gaze defiantly. “I’m an adult, if that’s what you mean.”

The man frowned and stepped back, holding up a hand. “That’s not—”

“Look,” I said, running a hand through my shaggy black hair. “Can you just tell me where to go? I’m late for my appointment.”

He opened and closed his mouth a couple times like he wanted to say more, and I braced myself for yet another argument. Mom and I had argued about this topic enough over the past few years that I was a damn pro.

But after a beat, the man sighed and shook his head. “Suit yourself, kid.” He pointed past the nearest row of statues to a hallway tucked into the far wall. Sure enough, I could just barely make out the word ‘Recruitment’ stenciled beside it. “Head that way and you should find their offices easily enough.”

“Thanks.”

Shoving my hands in the pockets of my frayed jeans, I stalked off before the guy could reconsider. I’d made up my mind long before now. I knew what I had to do. And no one lucky enough to be working at Infinitarium had any right to judge me for it. Maybe if I’d been given the opportunities he had, then I’d have had another choice. I wouldn’t have to—

I shoved aside that unhelpful train of thought. No sense dwelling on what I couldn’t change. The world might be crap, but this—this, I had control over.

As I passed by the larger-than-life statues, I glanced up and realized that they paid homage to Infinitarium’s roots after all. Each depicted a character from one of their games. Many I didn’t recognize, though I assumed the woman dressed in a bodice and billowing dress came from their romance game, Regency Online.

A few statues near the end, however, drew my eye. I might not have had any firsthand experience—not yet—but even Irecognized them as the core ancestries from Caelarian Online.

A Human Warden, bedecked in pelts and leather armor, wielding a taut bow with a ferocious dire wolf companion crouched by his feet.

A Prism Crusader, her faceted skin speckled with little gleaming mineral flecks to simulate how it would reflect the light in-game, a sword and shield raised.

A Revenant Occultist, his skeletal face barely visible beneath a carved hood, a flask held in one hand and a bone clutched in the other.

A shiver of excitement coursed down my spine. Soon, I’d finally be able to play the game myself. Not quite in the way I’d once imagined as a kid, sure, but anything was better than nothing.

The hallway to recruitment abandoned the grand trappings of the entryway. Tile and marble gave way to carpet, and pale, muted colors that reminded me of hospital waiting rooms. Some suit had probably decided it would put people like me more at ease. If anything, however, it only brought my nerves to the surface more, forcing me to consider the stark reality of what I was about to do.

It didn’t help that everyone I passed looked at me like that guy outside had, with a mix of sympathy and pity. It was like I had a ‘dead man walking’ sign taped to my back. Which I supposed wasn’t far from the truth, but still…

I swallowed, balling my hands into fists to stop their faint trembling. Ignoring the questioning stares, I forced myself to focus only on the hall ahead, following the provided placards until I reached a pair of double doors. The sign above them read ‘Sphere Recruitment Office.’

My feet hesitated just outside the threshold. This was it. If I was going to turn back or chicken out, now was the time.

The scenario played itself out before my eyes. I could turn around and flee, past the statues promising other worlds of adventure and intrigue, out the gilded entrance…and back into the decaying city and my dead-end life. If I hurried, I might even be able to make it on time for my first job at Hamburger Harry’s ahead of my second job hauling crates at a warehouse.

The sobering thought jerked me back to the present, and I took a deep breath, steeling my resolve. There was nothing waiting for me outside except for decades of barely scraping by. More endless double shifts working dead-end jobs while struggling to support my mom and my sisters, but knowing I could never do enough.

There were too many people fighting over too few opportunities for someone like me to ever rise above the pack. I’d never land a sweet gig in an office like this. Without the time or money for school, I’d never be a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer. I was just one more mediocre cog grinding away in a pointless, unending cycle.

At least this way, I could take care of my family—protect and provide for my little sisters the way an older brother should.

And, okay, have some fun for a change while doing it.

My hand didn’t shake when I reached out to grasp the door handle and tugged it open.

The waiting room inside looked like every other waiting room I’d ever been in. A small hololink on the wall displayed the news: more reports on the latest protests by the Society for Immersive Rights at a tournament in New York for Infinitarium’s first-person sci-fi shooter, Exodus Online.

It looked like there’d already been a handful of incidents, including a player who was attacked last night, and beaten so badly that they’d been rushed to a local hospital. Scrolling text across the bottom of the screen outlined ongoing threats made against Infinitarium employees and players deemed ‘complicit in this latest example of insidious exploitation of our most vulnerable.’

Not exactly the sort of thing I wanted to be reminded of while in an Infinitarium facility.

An image of the SIR’s leader, Roderick Galloway, flashed across the screen as I turned away to focus on the rest of the room. Posters of different worlds plastered the walls while a rack of brochures lined a small table. All the different games of the Sphere, each its own miniature digital reality.

I gave them a quick glance while I approached the desk. The receptionist fixed me with the practiced smile of someone who had to be polite for a living.

“Welcome to the Sphere Recruitment Office. Can I help you?”

“Er, yes.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “My name’s Sebastian Koster. I have an appointment to speak with Emily.”

The receptionist tapped at her keyboard and squinted at her screen. She smiled up at me a moment later. “Yep, I see it here. She’s ready for you. First door on the left.”

I blinked, surprised that was all there was to it. In my head, I’d built this up to be some grand moment: the turning point of my entire life…or afterlife, as it were.

But I supposed to the receptionist, this was just another day in the office. How many hopeful new recruits like me did she see pass through these doors every single week?

Not sure whether that thought comforted or depressed me, I followed the receptionist’s instructions down a short hall to the door she’d indicated. A placard on the door read ‘Emily Straton, Sphere Early Retirement Program.’

I rapped my knuckles on the wood before I could chicken out. A muffled voice called out for me to enter and, taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.