The first message arrived before Remi had even had a sip of his coffee. Luckily, the bar served more than simply booze, which was great, because most teachers ran on a combination of courage, hope, spite and caffeine. The ratio changed by teacher and day, but in Remi’s case, it was almost always at least fifty percent coffee.

  Remi had followed Nel’s example and had grabbed a snack from the murse’s drawer. The bar floated his coffee to rest in front of him. Talanore picked up a bottle of cream whiskey and dropped a healthy amount in his glass. “Half whiskey, half coffee. I call it a double stumble.” He met Remi with a toothy grin. “Want some, lad?”

  Remi was just about to say no when Nel’s first message appeared. He shook his head as he read his HUD.

  Nel: Completed my Tech-bay audit. The room is stable, and I'm wired in. I’ve read the specs of the combat rooms. They are module-based. I think I can exploit this.

  Remi: Neato. How long have you been in there?

  Nel: About four days. I’m guessing that's only about a few minutes for you?

  Remi: Really?

  Nel: More now. This has led me to some interesting discoveries, but nothing I can’t handle.

  He waited, but nothing else came through. He guessed messages would need to be short and there would be a time lag. Similar to communicating with the Apollo 13 astronauts and mission control. Remi would see her message instantly, but his response might take hours to reach her.

  Nel: Found potential exploit. Working on a script. Each module replay gets a Module ID — stored as Module #n (n = 1, 2, 3…). The Crucible snapshots the exact state into that cache.

  Remi: Huh?

  Nel: Think of it like save-slots in a game. Every time I run the loop, I save a new slot.

  Remi: Exsqueeze me?

  Nel: Nevermind. Carousel script is already written. Drink that coffee; you’re going to need it.

  Remi looked at the black liquid. Shrugged and added two creams and sugars.

  Nel: I can now use the combat-room modules like save slots. After each run, I can see what changed. The Crucible keeps a brief list of differences, so I can fix what went wrong instead of starting over.

  Remi: Not sure what all that means, but awesome, I guess.

  He stirred.

  Nel: The Crucible creates a cache of you every time you step through a doorway. Those saves live between the rooms, not inside them. Stupid. That’s the gap I can use.

  Just before he dipped his biscotti into the creamy cup of caffeinated goodness.

  Nel: I think I've got the exploit figured. Is your anchor point button reusable?

  Remi: No, once per scene.

  Nel: Oh!

  Remi: Oh?

  Nel: I’ve solved it already.

  He ate his damp cookie…

  Nel: Almost there.

  …and took a sip.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Nel: Done. But you’re not going to like it.

  Remi: I've no doubt. Tell me what I have to do.

  Remi downed his remaining coffee in a single gulp.

  Nel: Quick note before you enter your room. The Crucible’s “biology suppressions” don’t apply to Safe spaces. So out there, the system mutes all the maintenance stuff: hunger, thirst, fatigue, digestion, waste.

  When in here, everything runs at full speed again. It’s one countermeasure to force you to leave. You will get tired, and hungry, and ultimately need to take care of your needs by switching to the bedroom. It’s the system’s way of keeping the boring parts off camera.

  Remi: It’s all good. I ate, had coffee and slept well last night. I'm a teacher and can plow through a long night of study. So I’m good to go.

  Nel: Exactly, it would be good to go.

  It had taken Remi a few minutes to put it together.

  Remi: You want me to go to the bathroom

  Nel: Yes.

  He’d told her he would just use his room, but she’d shot that down immediately. Her script was still running, and if he entered anything but the combat room, it would break it. Narrative efficiency, my ass.

  * * *

  The bar was just as embarrassed as Remi. All the liquor bottles had spun around, their labels turned to the wall—as if they too, like Talanore, couldn’t make eye contact.

  There was no place to go in the main hall, so Remi had needed to improvise. He’d found the bucket behind the bar, and carried it to the far corner of the room to do his business. When finished, he’d dumped it in the hearth.

  No matter how much the red-faced Remi—and everyone else in the room, bottles included—wanted to ignore what he’d just done, the sizzle and smell made that impossible.

  “Sorry,” was all the sheepish Remi could manage as he returned to the bar.

  “Forget about it,” Talanore said, topping his cup and throwing it back in one motion.

  He shuddered. “Which is something we can all hopefully do.” The bottles clinked in assent.

  As Remi got up and prepared to enter his combat tutorial, Nel’s instructions came through in a single chunk.

  Nel: I'm going to need you to follow my directions exactly. You are going to need to get your meterstick before you enter the room. We can’t risk opening your murse or summoning it in here. You will select the combat room and then proceed through the doorway. But this is the tricky part. You will need to press your anchor point button just as you leave the great hall, and before you enter the training room. You need to anchor in the liminal space in between, not in either of the rooms themselves. I will tell you when, as I will monitor you from inside; you simply have to be ready.

  Remi: I’ll be ready, and you were right. I didn’t like that at all.

  Nel: That wasn’t what I was talking about

  Remi: Shit.

  Nel: Hopefully that’s done.

  Remi shook his head in exasperation. He couldn’t imagine what might be worse, but he wouldn’t find out standing out here. He dug in the murse, retrieved his stick and sealed the bag securely. The slap he gave Talanore’s back as he got up rang loudly in the hall. “Catch you on the flip side.”

  “I’ll be here,” Talanore said, toasting him as he walked toward the door.

  The neon warmth of the Great Hall dimmed behind him, replaced by the cold hum of system light gathering around the doorway. With a few quick taps of the access panel, he was prepared to make his room selection.

  Remi: Ready.

  Nel: No rush. It’s not like I’ve been waiting for you for weeks ;).

  He needed no further motivation. Remi touched the quill and selected the combat module. He placed his hand on the brass knob, and it turned easily.

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  Room Selected: Combat Training Room

  Module 1: Anchors & Rhythm

  Time Limit: 3 hours

  TEMPORAL BARRIER DETECTED

  DIMENSIONAL TIME FLOW REDUCED TO 0.07%

  External progression suspended while inside this space.

  He could see the room as the door finished swinging inwards. It was white, and in the distance a woman waited. Back towards him. Nel? But that would be impossible; she was in her own room. Then who?

  He positioned his free hand over the anchor button and stepped forward. Let’s find out!

  Nel: Now!

  Remi pressed the button on his vest, triggering his save point.

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  Anchor Established

  The room was mainly white, and as Remi stepped in he could feel a slight give to the floor. It was soft and springy, letting his steps bounce just a bit as he walked forward. The woman at the far end of the room was now completely visible, and while Remi had assumed she was stationary, she was anything but. While she faced away, he could now see two sticks tracing arcs through the air. The tip of one flared red, and then winked out, like a lit match that sparked and then was blown out by a shaken hand.

  She didn’t stop as he entered the room, and the door swung shut.

  “You step too loud, Mr. Page,” she said.

  Her voice was gentle, measured, and calm. As she spoke, Remi could hear the roundness of her consonants, the soft way she let t and d dissolve into air, like brushstrokes fading off a page. Each sentence curved upward slightly, not uncertain, just melodic, as though every word was a tide rolling in before it ebbed again.

  Her sticks came to a lazy halt, ending in a cross behind her back. They clicked softly as they came together.

  “The floor tells me more than sight ever could. It says you’re uncertain. That’s fine. Uncertainty is honest, and I can work from that.”

  She turned to face him, and she gave him a quick scan before their eyes locked.

  “I can also see, by how you hold that stick, that we’ve got a lot of that to do.”

  Recognition struck now that she was facing him. “Amihan?”

  She smiled faintly. “Hello, Guro. It’s good to see you again.”

  His mind stuttered to a halt. How could she be here? Not as an NPC, with some sort of script, but actually her. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, responding to his confusion.

  “Remi,” she said softly, sticks still crossed behind her. “I’m going to need you to do what I told you to when we last parted—remember to breathe.”