Luke Naxos woke up and realized he was dead, in a coma, or transported to virtual reality. When he saw the stenciled EXIT sign on the far door he discounted heaven, as those pearly gates were an entrance. The noisy drumming and clatter of machinery confirmed that it was not a dream. The sleep bardo was always silent. The conclusion was what every avid gamer hoped for, total immersion. But he could not remember how or why.

Luke relaxed and felt the riveted floor beneath his back. His crotch was concealed by a loincloth. What he could see of his legs and arms were bony and shrunken. His skull was hairless. He stunk of preservatives and worse. Above was a glowing ceiling with a speaker grate in its center. It was surely a game. Only snatches of memory remained of his past life, bright Novas in a blurry nebula of shattered facts. Had they blocked his long-term memory or was it only a technical glitch?

“Glad to see you finally arrived,” said a deep synthetic voice. “Lately, I’ve been getting empty meat bodies. Terrible for my monthly score. Drink water, storage always dehydrates because of freezer burn."

Luke rolled over onto his left side. A quart of artisan spring water was sitting there. He slowly sat up and grabbed the bottle. It was a struggle to break the safety seal.

“I can’t remember stuff,” said Luke.

“Your memory capacity is limited. Space was needed for upgrades. But all those dreary hours of employment, waiting for the clock to tick down, persist.” said the electronic administrator.

“At least help me stand up.”

“Sorry, no can do. It’s like an egg hatching. Better if you do it yourself. Early on, I tried helping more but. . .”

“Bad for your rating.” Luke's mind started to coalesce. He fumbled with shaking hands at the container. The cap popped off and he drank the entire bottle dry.

“I’m at three out of four. Not really my fault if they send me only the dim ones, you would think.”

“That’s a 75% survival rate?” His body was quickly hydrating. He stood, stable and looking around.

“I wish. No, three out of every four dies within the first month. I was hoping to reach three out of five.”

“Is it that dangerous out there?”  Those odds were bad. And if this were a starting instance what would the wider world be like?

“If you ignore everything I say, put all your points in strength, all coin in an epic weapon, run around without shoes dressed in a loincloth, and chop at anything that moves your chance of survival drops.”

A picture of a sword labeled legendary weapon appeared in front of Luke. It was at least 2 meters in length, 10 centimeters in width, and had a two-handed grip.

“Discount the unique part. All from the same mold. They just change the filigree a bit or use a different pommel stone. It stays within the letter of the law, but really mass-produced junk.”

Two more items appeared, a battle ax and a re-curved bow.

 “I like the ax design,” said Luke. “But without a shield and an active skill, what use is it in a fight? Always wanted to be an archer, but finding arrows would be a problem.”

 “What did you do before here?” asked the even cadence of silicon life.

“I have faint memories of hours sitting in front of a keyboard and hating it. Played table tennis. Had an electric bicycle. Broke up with my girlfriend and took dancing lessons.” His ungraspable memories swirled away in a mist.

“Sufficient for now,” rattled the ceiling speaker.

“You need a name,” said Luke, “Would you like Modac as a handle?”

“Thank you for the title, human. Modac is a fine name for a sentient machine.”

A greyed-out screen appeared inches in front of Luke’s nose.

“Where's the respawn point?” he asked.

“Virtual it appears but a game it’s not. Wounds hurt. Too many and you die for good. Check your life bar, lower left screen. When it gets to a fourth it will change to yellow, one-eighth to red. Your task is more than just to party.”

“Right, heard that all before,” said Luke. “Very authentic and very trite. But be more specific. Give me the setting and the main quest."

“If you wish mere mortal. Think of a world in stasis for centuries with ever more bizarre feedback systems. Become an agent for positive change, but do not disrupt the balance of power. That last criterion is important.”

“More. I need to know the level of technology and the locale. You want me to survive or not?”

“From cryogenic storage you have been called forth into a world shattered by total war and teetering on the brink of obliteration. Does that description suit your limited mentality?”

“Will it be in the forest, desert, outer space? Using swords, laser pistols, magic, all of them?”

“A temperate climate progressing, with changes in elevation, from oaks to conifers. The poles have diminished ice caps. Deserts are extensive. All habitats contain a multiplicity of bioengineered life forms. As to weapons, it varies from the drastically insane down to teeth and claws.”

“I’ll just hide in the forest and grind levels until I get my bearings.”

“Luke, this is not a game. The powerless depend on you and your companions.”

“Fine, pure faith has now been born in me. I collect a team including a paladin and we loot or buy equipment.”

“Luke, there is only one exit, death.”

“Okay, three times you told me so it must be true. And I’m really scared.”

“You need the boon of a powerful god to survive out there.”

“I’m an agnostic. Maybe I’ll just flip a coin.”

Text appeared in Luke's popup interface. Would you like to accept the quest: Agent of Change? The penalty for failure is unknown but could be catastrophic. Luke clicked on the not-now button, wanting more knowledge and needing to kick back. Thinking he must be cautious in his promises. Although impossible to conceive of, that damn AI might just be right!

“Let’s move on,” said the baffled gamer, more bluff than confidence.