[ti]solo[/ti]Echoed Thunder

Orama pulled off his helmet and let out a breath full of thunder and promise. His body shook with adrenaline, as if the flight, skydive, and final-round glass-slide through the skies of Asper had been real.

They had been real.

The whole THING had been real. He'd been there in mind, spirit, and body. Maybe not a body as anyone he knew in the real would would recognize it- "There I go again, calling this place the real world! What makes it so special?"

"I can think of at least one thing in this very room," said Michelle.

"Honey!" Orama said, turning around. His wife was seated comfortably on a sofa in the corner. "Since when do we have a sofa in here?"

"Since I dragged it in three hours ago. I was watching you play. Did you know that you talk while you play?"

Orama frowned. Was there a problem with his deep dive headset? He'd been reading about neural leakage on the player forums just last week, but it had only ever been reported in highly modified headsets, and his was top of the line! "What did I say? Was it inspiring?"

"You said something like 'Oh Mistra, your lips are so soft," Michelle joked.

"Mistra's still just a corrupted region, honey. Nothing but mountains and bad dreans."

"Oh Mistra," Michelle continued, her voice filled with warm humor, "your so bad, and your corrupted mountains are so dreamy."

"I don't call women dreamy," Orama said flatly.

"The Barry in my head does, and it's very funny."

"That Barry sounds a bit mental."

"He can be. But he keeps me company when my husband is away on long business trips."

Orama was silent at that. In the last week he'd been engrossed in UNOVR. Training, reaid prep, research, tweaking, meetings with other players, arena battles to sharpen his skills. He'd been online and logged in for more than sixty hours. And when he was offline it was all lists and brainstorming and planning sessions with Cortana.

There was silence in the room, and Orama swore he could still hear distant thunder.

"Sorry honey. It's been a hell of a week."

"You've been working hard. You always do when something matters to you." Michelle crossed the room and leaned against the side of his VR chair. She rubbed his arm. It felt amazingly real. "How did the raid go? Did you beat the boss? And don't look so surprised. I know all your gamer lingo. I read an article about it in the New York Times."

Orama turned the question over in his mind. "No. No we didn't."

Michelle's face fall She was genuinely sad to hear about his failure. Orama hadn't realized that she was so invested. "Oh honey I'm sorry you didn't win! You worked so hard all week and—"

"No it's okay, it turned out that the boss wasn't the true enemy. Once we discussed our mutual goals and interests it became clear that the whole battle had been a misunderstanding fueled by greed."

"I didn't know games had become so realistic."

"In the end it was quite reminiscent of Westward Expansion, and the claim by powerful invaders to the lands, lives, and resources of the natives."

"Wow...you're still playing the Pokemon one, right?"

Orama ignored his wife's hilarious quips and continued with the debrief. "Most of the players realized this, and the game...gave us a choice. To proceed with the original plan, kill the boss, and cleanse Mistra of darkness—"

"I'm not sure I like you playing games where you cleanse women of their darkness."

Orama raised his voice slightly, trying not laugh. "— Or side with the boss, our enemy turned ally, and work together to find a new and more difficult road forward."

Michelle's hand was still on his arm, but she's stopped rubbing. Even through the jokes, she knew what this meant to him. "So what did you all pick?"

"We sided with Zapdos."

"Now I know that that's not a black woman's name."

"No, it's a huge bird that shoots lightning," he said, moving to get out of the chair.

Michelle helped him, and the pair headed off towards the breakfast nook. "A big monster bird, huh? Did Mr. Nintendo name it after his mother-in-law?"