What is time? Perhaps each of us has pondered this question at least once in our lives. And no one has yet found the right answer. Saint Augustine once said that he understood perfectly well what time was—until someone asked him to explain it. The moment you try, everything falls apart. Yes, for philosophers, time was often understood as the measure of change. But it exists because nothing in the world stands still.

  In Einstein's theory of relativity, time appears to us in a completely different form. It ceases to be absolute, ceases to be constant. It depends on speed and gravity: the faster you move or the stronger the gravitational field, the slower time flows.

  For us, dear reader, for ordinary people, time is felt rather than measured. After all, each of us has caught ourselves thinking that waiting can stretch a minute into eternity, whilst events so joyful to our hearts fly by unnoticed. And we can safely say: time is subjective.

  So what is it? Try to stop for a second with me and listen to yourselves. Time rustles in the whisper of leaves, in the muffled chime of old clocks, in the breath of wind that suddenly reminds us of something long past. It slips away like water through fingers, and the harder we try to hold it, the faster it disappears.

  Perhaps time is equivalent to memory? After all, the past lives in us through recollections, the future caresses us with hope, and the present is so fragile that it's almost impossible to grasp.

  Or perhaps time is... merely an illusion created by our consciousness so that we can somehow order the chaos of existence. But then a new question arises: if there is no time, what remains?

  And so we return to the beginning. Time is an enigma. And perhaps its secret lies not in understanding it, but in learning to live within its fragile fabric, to hear its breath and accept its flow without trying to conquer it.

  To his great regret, Ayan had no choice. Each time he was yanked out of virtual reality, he found himself in absolute, bottomless darkness. Not simply darkness, but in a void where there existed no up, no down, not even his own breathing. There he heard only one thing... The muffled echo of his own thought: "I wonder... how much time has passed?"

  But time, as such, did not exist. It ceased to be, dissolved. Seconds, minutes, years—everything merged into one infinite "now". Ayan didn't know how long he remained in this non-existence. Ten seconds? A year? Or perhaps an entire eternity? He had no idea... After all, when all your senses are taken away, you simply lose your point of reference.

  He tried to hold on to reason, to the remnant of a whole person that remained in him. But even this was unstable. After all, who can measure thought? Thoughts don't run on schedule. They flare up and die out, multiply, become tangled. And when the only thing you have is your own consciousness, it eventually becomes a cage where you don't know whether you're asleep or even alive...

  Sometimes he thought about the future. About what lay ahead, if anything lay ahead at all. Fate, it seemed, wasn't finished with him, and what awaited him after the darkness surely promised no relief.

  It couldn't be said that hope for a full existence in the game had abandoned him. But nor did he have reasons to stake everything on it.

  It seemed to him that only a moment had passed since his farewell to the headmistress, and already in the next instant Ayan found himself in the same wheelchair. But now in a sterile white room. So white that even he, possessing only virtual vision, began to feel pain in his digital eyes.

  "Hello, Ayan. I'm pleased to meet you." Before him materialised a beautiful young woman in a strict business suit.

  "Good day, ma'am."

  "My name is Ilira," the young woman smiled. "I'm an authorised NovaTech representative for organising your comfortable stay in the Ether."

  This treatment simultaneously gladdened and saddened the lad. After all, Ayan believed that were he not a defective human being, they would hardly have assigned him an entire employee of the world's largest corporation just for a game.

  Although it's difficult to call the Ether an ordinary game. It had become a kind of salvation for human civilisation. And now, apart from the most radical refusers of neurolinks, all humanity, one way or another, spent more time in the Ether than in reality.

  "You don't mind if I call you Yan?" Lost in thought, he nearly missed the question.

  "Of course, ma'am. As you wish." He truly didn't care.

  "Excellent! Tell me, have you already decided which world you'd like to enter? Please approach the choice responsibly—creating a second virtual character is impossible. To replace it, you'll have to delete your current one... This can take a long time, since your brain will need an indefinite period to sever the connections formed with the capsule." The young woman realised she'd begun overloading the lad with information and fell silent, awaiting his answer.

  "Yes, ma'am. I've decided to play in the world of Seratis."

  Nodding to her own thoughts, Ilira spread her hands as if smoothing a vertically hanging cloth. And where her hand passed, a screen appeared.

  "Look here, on first entry you'll arrive in this room. You need to enter the first portal. Here it is... That's the one you need!" She demonstrated everything in considerable detail.

  After talking for another half-hour or so, she finally decided the lad had had enough and was ready.

  "Now we'll begin immersing you in the capsule. From here, do everything according to the instructions. As soon as you pass initiation in the game, the icon for contacting me will become available. Don't hesitate to use it—I'll be available at any time." A feeling of bitterness washed over Ayan again, but he gave no sign.

  "Thank you, ma'am. I'm grateful for your attention." She still sensed something in his voice and looked at him intently.

  "I'm serious, Yan. Any time and about any issue—bear that in mind. Now, farewell and see you in the game."

  Darkness once again met him with its terrible and cold embrace.

  Already in the next instant, he found himself suspended in the middle of a long corridor, its scale seeming to press down on him with its cold majesty.

  The ceiling was lost in semi-darkness, where the soft glow of magical lamps spread across the vaults, dissolving in a greyish haze. On both sides of the endless, mirror-polished pathway stretched a row of ethereal portals. Each was enclosed in an elegant arch carved from stone that defied identification. The unknown material sometimes gleamed with a deep blue, sometimes appeared grey, like ash frozen after an ancient fire. Everything just as Ilira had shown.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Above each opening hung a digital number, even and cold, as if poured from light itself. The crisp, perfectly symmetrical lines of the numbers barely flickered, as if emphasising that this place was ruled by an order beyond time. Each portal led to its own world—living, breathing, with its own history, rules and dangers that would be alien to this silence.

  Ayan slowly looked around, catching himself thinking that his eyes involuntarily slid across the numbers, checking whether he'd made a mistake, and each time a strange tension grew within him. He needed only one portal.

  With the number "1" above it. The very first on the list, the most popular of worlds, where millions of players dreamt of going. The higher a world ranked, the closer its portal was to the beginning of this hall.

  And there it was, right before him. The portal shimmered with soft radiance. Beyond its flickering opening, beyond the thin boundary between light and shadow, the unknown awaited the lad.

  Sighing and not allowing himself to peer at other portals lest he change his mind, Ayan mentally moved himself towards the needed one.

  "Immersion."

  Ilira had described the sequence of actions quite clearly, so the lad relaxed and prepared for what lay ahead.

  After the spoken words, he was drawn into the portal. And the next hour... No, Ayan wouldn't call it an "hour". It was an entire life. Immersion in the starting cinematic, made in full-presence format, wasn't simply viewing footage—it was a simulator of being.

  He became everyone. Was everyone. Lived in the skin of all races, all species that were represented in the Ether. He was a Virgor in the crystal desert. He was Kal'tari amongst the endless frozen forest. He felt the weight of a crossbow, the clatter of armour, the softness of animal hide.

  And with each form his heart stopped. From delight, from anticipation, from pure, undiluted life. But the expectation of remaining a cripple even in such a marvellous virtual world wouldn't release its grip on the lad's heart.

  "Hello, my name is Karo. I'll be happy to help you prepare your Ether avatar," the voice that rang out, though mechanical, was clearly modelled on a male voice.

  "Hello! Thank you." The lad had been warned about the assistant, so he wasn't particularly surprised by the voice.

  "Have you already decided which species your character will belong to?"

  "Yes, I wish to be an orc."

  Immediately after Ayan's words, a projection flared before him. The silhouette of a huge creature grew straight out of the air, slowly taking form. It was an orc, and in height it clearly exceeded two and a half metres. The massive body seemed created from brute force itself. Every muscle appeared hewn from stone, as if from birth he'd lived in a gym where instead of children's rattles there was iron.

  However, not everything in his appearance matched the usual stereotypes. He didn't have those monstrous fangs that usually adorned representatives of his kind in past games, films or books. But when the orc opened his mouth slightly, behind the heavy lips flashed powerful, solid teeth. The kind that could bite through, and then chew, bones.

  The skin colour was also confusing: not greenish, as expected, but rather light brown, as if polished bronze. This shade looked almost warm. Strangely alive, as if the creature wasn't from a programme but of flesh and blood.

  "Please note that due to your Unranked account, all playable species are available to you. Are you sure you want to settle your choice on one of the standard ones?"

  "What's an unranked account?" Ayan didn't understand what Karo meant. And when he didn't understand something, he wasn't afraid to ask.

  He had undoubtedly expected to receive an ordinary F-rank account. The government issued these to all citizens absolutely free of charge, together with a standard full-virtual-immersion capsule. Naturally, there were no significant gaming restrictions in them. Here it was more a question of functionality and status.

  "I apologise, but my database contains no information about this. I can only say that you have full access to S-rank account functionality..."

  Ayan, quite successfully, came to the conclusion that his account rank was also connected to his special case. Deciding that there was nothing he could do about it now, he decided not to stress. He merely made a mental note to return to this topic at an appropriate moment.

  "Fine, the orc suits me completely. Although..." Be that as it may, the lad wasn't planning to change anything in his plans.

  "Can you generate the most frightening and repulsive appearance for the orc?"

  "As you wish." After Karo's words, the orc's face in the projection blurred, only to appear several seconds later in a completely different form.

  "Well then, with such a mug you could cure constipation! For this orc, it would be enough to wake a patient in the middle of the night, and the desired result is guaranteed..." This very thought visited Ayan at first sight of his avatar.

  "Just what I need, thanks!" Thinking everything over once more, he accepted the changes.

  "Are you certain you want to complete the appearance settings? Allow me to remind you once more about your account rank and that additional settings are available to you..."

  "Yes, I'm certain!"

  As soon as Ayan confirmed his choice, the next character setup window appeared before him.

  "Nullus." He said it without waiting for any commentary from Karo.

  Correctly understanding his charge's mood, the AI assistant immediately moved to the next stage.

  Now before him stood an orc with a glowing nickname above him, and beside it hung a characteristics table.

  Primary Characteristics:

  — Strength: 6

  — Stamina: 6

  — Fortitude: 6

  — Reaction: 6

  — Agility: 6

  — Perception: 6

  — Intelligence: 6

  — Spirit: 6

  — Concentration: 6

  — Luck: 6

  Besides the fact that each characteristic already had five points, this apparently seemed insufficient to the system. Ayan was offered to independently distribute ten more.

  To be fair, that's what our hero thought. As for the free points, their distribution in the appropriate quantity was offered to all players.

  Ayan didn't think long. Not that he didn't have time for deliberation—he simply saw no particular sense in detailed analytics and examination of all characteristics. Therefore, he quickly scattered all free points evenly. One point to each characteristic, so as not to lose out.

  Rationally, this seemed to him the safest decision. Without imbalances, without risk.

  He still couldn't imagine in what form he'd end up in the game. Still the same invalid confined to a chair, or a full-fledged avatar. So he saw no need to complicate his life with strategic calculations. "The main thing is just to start," flashed through his head. Ayan decided that he'd figure out the rest later, if he was lucky.

  "Done." He informed Karo.

  "Do you wish to choose a starting location or leave it to random selection?"

  "Random."

  "Accepted! Welcome to Seratis and enjoy the game!"

  "We'll see about that..." thought Ayan.

  The opening cinematic for orcs also proved to be top-notch, and the lad almost enjoyed it. However, thoughts about possible miserable existence amongst these strong creatures quite seriously undermined his confidence in the correctness of his choice. A cowardly thought flashed through his head: "Maybe I should have chosen dwarves or goblins?"

  The cinematic changed to a dark cavernous hall. Enormous, as if hollowed from the very earth by the breath of time. The vaults were lost in darkness, where rare drops of water, falling from the ceiling, echoed hollowly. The walls were uneven, covered with a damp sheen.

  Somewhere in the depths flickered a dim light. Either the reflection of a torch or the faint glow of crystals embedded in the rock. The air was thick, cold, saturated with the smell of dampness and antiquity. It seemed as if the cave itself breathed, slowly and heavily, hiding something forgotten in its silence.

  Before Ayan could properly understand where he'd ended up, sharp pain, like an electric shock, pierced his entire body. He collapsed onto the cold stone, curled into a foetal position, pressing his hands to his head as if he could prevent it from exploding. His skull seemed to be compressed from within, his ears roared, and each heartbeat resonated like a bell somewhere deep underground.

  He tried to open his eyes... A mistake! Light crashed down on him like a red-hot knife, searing his vision. And then came the sounds. Sharp as screams, multifaceted and disjointed. Even his own breath seemed like thunder. Everything around mixed into a bright, deafening chaos. Despite his clenched eyelids, lines flickered before the lad's vision. Some sort of system symbols, running, trembling. But he couldn't understand anything—consciousness crumbled like sand through fingers.

  His hands burned as if fire blazed beneath the skin, but his head hurt worse, and he only pressed his palms tighter to his temples until his joints ached. It seemed his body lay on coals, each movement bringing a new wave of pain, penetrating deeper and deeper into him.

  He didn't know how long it lasted. Perhaps a few seconds, perhaps an eternity. When darkness finally crept up and embraced him, Ayan didn't resist. He even exhaled with relief, as if meeting not loss of consciousness but long-awaited salvation.