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gained in intensity and depth. At zero, the sphere burst with a jingle sending an avalanche of sounds, smells and colors.
    I shook   like a wet dog and congratulated myself on my safe homecoming.
    I wasn't too upset about my sudden death. I'd lasted five levels which wasn't bad for a newb: they normally died in droves in the beginning. I was a bit annoyed with the power-happy idiot who'd dragged his train across the whole location right over the low-level players' heads. The guards by the city gates would make a quick job of the gnolls. But how many others had they destroyed on their way? Even worse, they could lose their enemy and fall behind halfway, then walk back to the caves and attack the young hunters from behind.
    I squinted at the location's chat room window and grinned. The place was rife with swearing as everyone cursed the idiot runner.
    I hadn't lost my hard-earned experience, though. Up until Level 10, the game was in evaluation mode and didn't even demand paying. There was no penalty for character death and the player was temporarily immune to PK—that is, couldn't be killed by other players. By the same token, he or she couldn't choose specialization, either. Nothing new there: a drug dealer often offers the first fix for free. Admins had to have their pound of flesh. It wasn't for nothing that the corporation's annual profits were on a par with an average country budget.
    My group chat was flashing. Cryl didn't mince words. "Did you remember the motherfucker's name? I'll blacklist him. I'll kill him every time I see him!"
    "Relax. This is game in progress. Plenty of this sort of stuff. Leave it. What you gonna do now?"
    "Dunno. It's eight minutes till forced logout. I'll have to play 3D, and I hate it. After FIVR, it feels as if you're handicapped. I might check the shops to get rid of the loot and pop into the guild to get my Talent points from the Master. And you?"
    Good question. I'd made level 5. I needed to go see Grym. Then I had to do the corpse run to retrieve my gear. And it was high time I started thinking about somewhere to spend the night. Enough leveling. Time to get some daily bread.
    "Same, more or less," I answered. "I've added you to my friends list. Until next time. It's been a pleasure playing with you."
    "Likewise. I've added you, too. What time are you online, normally?"
    Oh. I didn't want to lie to him. Nor did I want to talk about my hopes and plans. You never know. "I'm taking some downtime, sort of. I'm online whenever I want. Knock and it'll be opened, if you know what I mean."
    We exchanged smilies and I left the group.
    I inspected the white diaper that seemed to be an integral part of my body and lovingly felt my six-pack abs. They looked great. Freebies always do. How many years had I been dreaming of something like that? This is what made the virtual reality so appealing: it made the impossible possible as your dreams came true making you river deep, mountain high. Millions of slim fat girls, billions of pretty uglies...
    I swatted a mosquito on my neck (what's wrong with those developer people? Or was it AI's idea?). Using a compass to find my bearings, I walked to the hermit's cave.
    As I went, I killed half a dozen rabbits. The level-one monsters gave no experience but added a few points to your hand-to-hand skills and dropped enough meat and pelts in the bargain.
    This is how Grym saw me this time: in my underpants, lugging an armful of pelts and meat in front of me. Seeing his eyebrow raised in silent question, I attempted to restore my plummeting authority. I bowed and laid the game on the table.
    "This is all for you, dear Grym. You live alone and spend a lot of time reflecting on lofty subjects. I don't think you have time left to hunt. These pelts could make a nice cloak, too."
    Skeptical, Grym poked at my offerings and wiped his finger on his robe. "I thank you. You could use a cloak yourself, by the looks of it. Did someone wrong you? Has our forest been sheltering