Thrumming and pulsing, the portal casts a light-blue shimmer onto the abandoned train platform. The hypnotic sound invites me home.

But I can't go. Not yet.

Not until I understand what's happening.

Even though I came here to ask for Zephyr's help, it's clear they're trapped. I don't know why, but I bet it's because of AlphaGalaxy.

Or maybe it's a hack gone wrong.

Either way, if I help them, maybe they'll agree to help me with Stella. It seems a fair exchange.

"There must be some mistake." I stare at their profile in confusion. "I have some programming skills. Maybe we can figure it out together."

Zephyr laughs. "A Niner assisting a Zero. Imagine that."

Deep in thought, they rub the neat layer of stubble along their square jaw. The portal illuminates the dark circles under their eyes. Still, they carry off a rugged handsomeness. At least a Seven.

Hell, they rock a prominent chin like a superhero with cheekbones to match. 

Yeah, they got a decent layer of extra padding along with those muscles. Who cares? Good luck to the poor fool who challenged them in the ring. Zephyr could probably snap most people in half without even trying.

"Starstruck?" they ask with a wry smile.

"Uh, what d'ya mean?"

Zephyr chuckles. "You know who I am, right?"

"Should I?"

"Not a video gamer, I see."

"I play them," I say defensively, "but...probably not the kind you like."

His incredulous expression makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Never mind. Doesn't matter. We need to fix this.

"How did this happen?" I ask, examining their wristband. "Did you hack it?"

Anger flashes in their eyes as they pull away. "Do you think I caused this?"

"No, but I can't help if I don't know what happened."

Their silence doesn't help. While I tinker with the code inside the wristband, I try to put the pieces together. My cheeks burn as they stare down at me, analyzing my every move.

Even if they've given away every cent and all their assets, it would cast them down into the Sixes, maybe. Still very much one of the privileged--or ledge, as everyone likes to call us.

Add that to their rugged good looks, and they should classify as at least an Eight. Put them in a fresh tuxedo, trim their waves, and wash off all the grime and dust. Hell, they'd pass as a Niner.

The system gives only the most heinous criminals an automatic One. It's not like Zephyr's a wanted serial killer. Even the Econo-Warriors who bombed the Southbay Mall aren't Zeros.

So what's their deal? What the hell did they do to deserve a Zero rating?

"Look, I'm trying to understand." Other than some weird hack to enhance their height and muscle strength, I can't find anything wrong. Besides the obvious. "I've never seen a Zero."

"You won't find any Zeros in your world," says Zephyr, "because it's illegal."

I gaze up at them, confused.

Zephyr casts their gaze away as though they're ashamed.

"I'm a digital slave, Tara."

Stunned, I stand there speechless. My thoughts spin. At first I think it must be a bad joke, but there's no sign of mirth in their features. Just exhaustion.

I think back to my conversation with Paul. When I asked him if the allegations about digital slavery were true, he didn't give me an answer.

"Are you serious?"

Zephyr turns to me with a defeated look. "Would I joke about something like that? AlphaGalaxy stole my life from me. My freedom. My autonomy."

"It's impossible."

"They convicted me of treason, an offense punishable by death."

My lips part in surprise.

"In a way, I wish they had killed me. Instead, they've locked me in a penal VR pod for the past thirty years, where I'm kept in permanent stasis."

"No way." My eyes widen. "You'd never survive. Stella told me if someone stays in VR even for a whole day, they start to lose it."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

I balk.

"Every time I die, they reset me." Zephyr bends down until we're eye to eye. "I'm in my late twenties here, but my physical body is well over fifty. I've died twenty times on the battlefield. Hell, I've killed myself twice to break free."

Silence hangs between us like thick smog. We hold each other's gaze far too long, to the point it feels like a heavy weight upon my chest.

"They won't let me die, Tara."

"No way! Not even AlphaGalaxy would enslave people." My throat clenches in protest. "Why? What could they possibly gain?"

AlphaGalaxy has done horrible things. They killed the woman I love. They've silenced any word of protest using fear and threats. They've bought the politicians, the land, and the people's loyalty.

But mass slavery? Jesus!

In a world where the top ten percent fight for jobs, why do they need to find cheap labor?

"Have you heard of Arcadia?" asks Zephyr, drawing me from my thoughts.

"Yeah, it's AlphaGalaxy's VR gaming world." What the hell does that have to do with anything? "They acquired it years back. A real cash cow. Why?"

"They keep me here as a soldier, to fight their virtual gaming battles." Zephyr gives a wry chuckle. "Ever wonder why the AI feels so real?"

Are they serious? Shit!

"It's my job to put my life on the line every day and entertain Niners in Arcadia with digital warfare. The real players don't feel pain, but I do."

My throat constricts until it hurts.

"Every knife wound. Every gunshot. Every kick, punch, and smack." They give me a mirthless smile. "You should see the bruises. It's unbelievable."

Part of me wants to write this off as anti-corporate propaganda. If Zephyr can hack secure accounts, why can't they free themself? Besides, we don't use real people in VR games. They're strategic digital assistants.

"Show me."

They close their eyes as though my words have stung them. Without a word, they unbuckle the cloak from their shoulders and remove their kevlar breastplate. Tossing them to the ground, they lift their black undershirt.

Never have I seen such a rainbow of angry bruises on one person.

"Most days I go home with at least one cracked rib," says Zephyr. "Once a Niner lanced me and I died slowly of a collapsed lung."

"Great sun!"

"AG was particularly pissed at me that day, so they hacked my death. Slowed it right down." They scoff. "Took over half a day to finish me off while I lay there gasping."

My skin tingles with adrenaline like I'm about to fight a tiger. At least I'm compos mentis this time. I couldn't help Stella, but maybe I can help Zephyr.

"Should—should I take pictures as evidence?"

"What would it prove?" They lower the undershirt. "I've done it all before. They convict the people who help me and starve my people to punish me."

My teeth begin to chatter from the cold. "They tell us it's AI."

"Of course." Zephyr puts on their Kevlar. "That way, you Niners don't think twice about killing us."

They lift their cloak off the ground. After taking one glance at me rubbing my arms in the cold rain, Zephyr wraps their only cloak around me and clips it to my shoulders. 

"I can't take this." Though I welcome the warmth, I'm not going to take their only cloak. Not when I have a dozen back home. "It's yours."

They hold up a palm. "Keep it in your inventory. They're easy to find, and it'll give you some protection in this place."

I tighten it around my arms. "Thank you."

They nod.

"What happens in the game?" I ask. "On the battlefield, I mean?"

"We own nothing except the currency we acquire from killing avatars." Zephyr gazes at me with renewed fire in their eyes. "If I don't steal from rich ledges, I can't help my people."

It feels like Zephyr has punched me in the solar plexus. Stunned doesn't begin to describe it.

"It's not like anyone's dying in the real world," mutters Zephyr. "My people do suffer and die here, though—again and again—only to be respawned."

What does this mean? Have we truly regressed almost three hundred years to a time when people could be owned?

That's what Stella said before she died: They own us.

Shit! What if she meant it literally?

Zephyr places their giant hands on my shoulders. "This is our own personal hell. Without the help of people on the outside, we'll never escape."

"Even if what you're saying is true, how can I help?" I purse my lips. "If the system doesn't let you teleport out of here, what can I do?"

"Find the proof. Then your people will demand that AG put an end to this."

"How do I prove all this?"

"If you want to see my body, send a reinforced spy drone into the defunct Brayton Power Station."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "What's there?"

"It's the fodder for cautionary tales."

When I swallow, it hurts like razors all the way down.

"I'm sorry I frightened you earlier." Zephyr gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I haven't seen a noncombatant from your world in a long time. Forgot my manners, I'm afraid. Too many years of living on my own."

"It's okay. Honestly, I don't know how you can stand it."

They shrug. "Not like I have a choice."

"If I were trapped here for decades, I'd probably go crazy."

"Most of us are."

When they turn to leave, I reach out for their forearm. "Zephyr?"

They halt like a soldier. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry." My throat croaks. "When your people asked for my help, I had no idea they were doing this to you."

They nod and gently pull away. "You'd better go home. This is no place for a Niner. If my people find you, they won't think twice about killing you."

"I won't die."

"No, but I programmed our weapons. Anyone under level Six is safe because we don't hunt plebes. Ledges are a different story, though."

"What happens?"

"Killing a ledge siphons all the money in their connected account." Zephyr scoffs. "You have no idea how many coins some of these bastards carry."

A small gasp escapes my lips. Holy shit! I have over twenty thousand holocoins in mine. Not my whole life savings, but it would hurt.

Big time.

They turn and walk down the gravel road toward the SOB mausoleum.

"Wait!"

Zephyr stops but doesn't face me.

"What game do you play?" I ask.

"So many." Their voice sounds heavy with exhaustion. "I'm the main antagonist in Globotics Revolution III and Dragon Fire: Reincarnation. Go see for yourself. Maybe you can beat me."

I grimace.

Zephyr speaks over their shoulder. "By the way, I should thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening rather than demanding my service." They run a hand over their drenched waves, curling from the rain. "Paul told me the Steeltoe killed Stella."

My throat clenches until my voice becomes a tiny croak. "He did?"

"If you help our cause, Tara, I'll print whatever the hell story you want."

___

Word count: 1,876
Total word count: 10,267/20,000

A/N: This is just to thank all of you who have given the rewrite a chance! If you have enjoyed it so far, please consider leaving a little comment or clicking that star in the upper right. :D Thank you so much for reading.