The Restoration Protocol

It's a hard feat, convincing a timid, teenage boy to play a virtual reality game meant for adults, but not one so hard that Mariko couldn't achieve by means of an inadvertent guilt trip. I'm moving soon, Boey, she reminded him many times, and the game is only out in the US right now, so it's likely we wouldn't be able to interact when I'm in freakin' Japan in a couple months. And despite how far she was willing to stretch the truth to persuade Boey to get the game, Mariko wasn't lying about this much. Paracosia has only been out for a short time. Yet despite its record-breaking success and popularity among reviewers and fans who received early access to the game, it has yet to receive its anticipated international release date.

"Paracosia" — a revolutionary gaming experience, drawing consumers to purchase its equally revolutionary gaming console, the Dream State System, or DSS, for short. Certainly not a price tag to sneeze at, and it isn't something that is likely to be sold at discounts online for a long time — if ever. The concept of falling asleep to enter a digital dream world, where a player could conceivably live out days after days of adventures and thrills while mere minutes have passed in the waking world...what a dream in itself, the developers at Dream State Technology boasted, in a society where busy schedules rob the hard-working of their well-deserved free time.

Now admittedly, fourteen-year-old Mariko Yoshimura wouldn't say she is particularly busy or hard-working, but when you've got a wealthy, single, doting aunt who has money to burn and takes sympathy on you for your circumstances, certain "limitations" can be avoided. Her best friend Boey Steele was another story, but thanks to the boy's equally sympathetic older brother who happened to work for Dream State Technology, Boey was able to obtain a DSS as well.

All favorable conditions seeming to align perfectly for the sole cause of allowing Mariko just one...lucky break.

If only Boey would get here faster, she thinks, tapping her foot impatiently in the crowded terminal of the PIPTIA — that is, Paracosia's Interdimensional Portal Transportation and Information Agency. It's an airport, essentially. Minus the runways. And the airplanes. But there are glowing portals, which in Mariko's opinion are much cooler anyway. Seamless entryways into the heart of this fantastical country which she has only had the chance to explore so little of since the game has been in her possession. Numerous cities teeming with their own civilizations and culture and quests, yet Mariko herself has yet to set foot out of Wynsmith, Paracosia's capital.

It would be more fun to explore with someone. With Boey, specifically, if only he would get here faster...

Mariko swings her legs back and forth as she fidgets in her chair, staring mindlessly down at the golden laces of her boots. They're a special item she won in a raffle, as a matter of fact. She had been hoping for a dagger, but a bottom-tier prize is a better outcome than the dozens of people who won nothing at all. It's like a souvenir. She's just a traveler here, after all. Much like every other individual chattering and pacing about this terminal, either to gather their bearings, or perhaps for the same reason as Mariko — awaiting the moment their dear friends should take their first steps into this new world to join them.

She had been so excited just to start playing that she forgot to make sure Boey was even ready to log on. Though even the memory is hazy at this point, she's almost certain that he said he would be here soon, and that he wanted her to wait for him. And with those pleading words swimming in her head, she promised herself that she would do just that.

Mariko presses her thumb to her watch to activate the holographic game menu. She personalized her own with the Alias template, a bonus that came with the game's special release. A miniature icon of Paracosia's renowned pop star dances in the screen's corner. Mariko watches it unblinkingly. Alias is one of the main reasons she wanted to play the game in the first place. To experience a live concert. To hear in person all those songs teased in Paracosia's trailers over the past few years. To meet her. An achievement Mariko has yet to realize on account of Alias's status.

How disappointingly realistic. Someone you admire so greatly and would give the world to speak to, yet who stands just out of reach. As though Mariko didn't already face such a depressing reality with her own mother, just on a complete opposite end of the "popularity spectrum," so to speak...

The longer she's alone the harder it becomes not to think about. Six months now since she started living with her uncle, since her father was killed and her mother, who she firmly believes was falsely accused, was sentenced to prison for the same crime.

Paracosia has been a pleasant distraction. But she still wants Boey. If only he would get here sooner...didn't he say he would be here...?

Mariko raises a hand to fiddle with her bangs. Unfortunately, the game's parameters disallow alterations to one's physical features — no bumping up your height a few inches, or giving yourself a slenderer nose, or longer hair, all of which Mariko would have loved to see on herself. Of course, if she really wanted to, she could always visit the nearest shopping district in Wynsmith and buy a wig. There are no laws against that. But she would still look like a short, baby-faced, Japanese schoolgirl. No catfishing opportunities in this world — not that she would ever want to, but it's still a little disheartening not to be able to blend in with the more mature demographic of players. If only she hadn't cut her hair on a whim last month. 'I think it looks nice!' Boey had assured her. But Boey would probably tell her she looks nice with a bag over her head, too, and sadly the boy is too oblivious to understand the implications of that statement.

But he means well. He always means well, and for that reason Mariko tries to have a little more patience with him. There's no one she would rather travel the world with, real or imagined. Not to mention she knows Boey is making a huge sacrifice to his own moral compass by agreeing to play the game with her in the first place. Honestly, she's surprised the boy's parents haven't scolded their son for bending to her every want. They're too nice, she thinks. And having been close friends with Mariko's mother, they don't have the heart to deny her this last request before she leaves for her new home across the ocean.

Mariko closes her menu and starts fiddling with the buttons of her vest. Alias is supposed to be having another concert tonight. Boey said he would go with her if he made it to Paracosia in time. And if not, they would catch the next one together for sure.

Maybe he's having second thoughts after all...

Amidst her somewhat despondent pondering, Mariko's acute sense of hearing kicks in at the slightest sound of that familiar voice. She chose the seat closest to the portals to ensure she wouldn't miss Boey's arrival. Even still, it's nothing short of a miracle that the boy's tiny voice manages to break through both the noise in the terminal and that in Mariko's head — or maybe it isn't such a miracle. Aside from her parents, there's no voice she's heard more of in her life.

Mariko rises to her feet, adjusting the straps of her brown leather backpack and quickly checking to make sure she left nothing on the empty seat beside her. Then, with the determination of a mother having lost her child in a crowd, she scours the long line of booths and kiosks located outside each transportation portal. Boey isn't too hard to spot. His hair alone stands out as a freshly painted barn, and with it he draws Mariko's eyes like moths to a flame. She soon finds the boy anxiously rubbing one of his palms against his loose-fitting, open-collar shirt, while the other hand rubs the ends of his mullet as he converses with one of the PIPTIA employees. They serve the purpose of a game tutorial, essentially, however in a much subtler way to provide a more realistic, immersive experience for players. Explaining the main functions of the PSO (Paracosia Serviceability Operations) watch, recommending checking out a music festival in Wynsmith, encouraging new visitors to engage in conversations with the townspeople, etc. etc... In short, an overall pleasant expression of hospitality on behalf of the staff here at PIPTIA.

Unfortunately, Boey has never been one for handling social situations involving people who hold any degree of authority. And that includes simply having a job.

Mariko waves her hand in the air the moment the employee finishes speaking with Boey. And Boey, now clutching a backpack of his own courtesy of the PIPTIA, sweeps his doe-eyed gaze across the terminal until he happens upon her. Visibly overwhelmed with relief, the boy hugs the backpack even tighter and takes off towards the seats where his friend stands waiting.

"Mari!!"

"If you don't like the default fit you have, there's a shopping district near here," Mariko says, scanning Boey's harem pants and the several, purposeless belts that the outfit came with for style purposes — and not to say that Boey isn't a stylish person, quite the opposite, but he can be very particular at times, too, as she's aware. "I bought my bag from there since I didn't care for the one the service lady gave me. Yours is different, though, so I guess they must rotate between a few different styles for those, too..."

She's a little too deep in thought analyzing Boey's outfit to take notice of the tears surfacing in the boy's eyes. Only once the sound of a sniffle greets her ears does Mariko finally lift her head to look him in the face. She tilts her head in confusion.

"What? You can't tell me the welcoming process was that bad. They're legally obligated to be nice to you here." She stops herself for a moment. "Here, as in the PIPTIA. No one else is legally obligated to be nice to you. But that would be boring anyway, you know what I mean?"

"...Mari, you haven't spoken a word to me in months."

"I texted," she quickly responds, hoping to gloss over the subject. But Boey's lip only quivers more as he looks at her. If only he were an ugly crier, Mariko thinks to herself, it would be easier to get annoyed. But he's not, so it isn't.

"It's not the same as hearing your voice and you know that."

"I didn't feel like talking."

"I know, I know, but you have to give me a minute here, alright...?"

"Sixty seconds and we go. I want to see Alias and if we're making any stops on the way we might miss her."

"You're ruthless..."

As Boey lifts one hand to rub the tears from his eyes, Mariko grabs his other and begins pulling him along towards the staircase on the far end of the terminal. 'Staircase' meaning the single, radiating beam of light that extends from the wall and indicates the start of a staircase. The rest of the stairs materialize with each step the two take alongside the visible railing that stretches between the floors. Boey holds his breath the entire time. Maybe not all the staircases would be like this, he thinks hopefully. This is just a special exception. He really hopes it's just an exception. The concept of a shared virtual reality experience in a dream scenario was a shocking enough thing for him to grasp on its own.

Even just bracing the world right outside at the peak of those stairs is an immediate rush to the senses. It's already evening in Paracosia. From beyond the platform overlooking Wynsmith's complex system of overpass walkways, a crystalline, dome-shaped structure decorated in neon lights towers over the rest of the city — the Marble Dome. Even from miles away it holds its place in the spotlight as Wynsmith's own personal castle. The primary place of performance of Paracosia's own android princess — such is the title she was given by citizens and players alike, despite not holding any royal status herself. She's certainly painted in the limelight enough to be one. All over Wynsmith, from what Mariko has seen thus far, and across the nation, to even the furthermost reaches of the floating islands of Arumathia. Alias is a strange name to no one.

Even now, standing above so great a portion of the city, Mariko can hear the idol's music being played by the citizens happily going about their business. She gives Boey's arm a quick tug to snap him from his daze. She could understand if the boy needed a minute to process all the bright and beautiful lights, but he isn't even looking at them. Rather, he seems much more caught up in the device fastened to his wrist, as he now twists and turns his arm to look at it from every angle.

"So...what did that lady say these things were for? I missed just about everything."

"It's like a prison bracelet," Mariko replies without skipping a beat. "You know, so they can keep track of us and blow us up if we ever act out. Did you take a deep breath when you first stepped through the portal?"

Boey blinks. "Wh—I did. N-no, wait, you're messing with me again, I-"

"You inhaled a bunch of the PIPTIA's evil nanobots. Those things'll explode if you stay in place too long."

She starts walking ahead without warning, eyes set on the adjoining overpass walkway that leads to the shopping district she had told Boey about. She has confidence Boey would follow after her soon enough. Whether in fear of losing her, or as a victim of her obvious lie that was sure to go over his head. Possibly both.

"M-Mari, wait up!!"

Definitely both. She hasn't even made it halfway across the bridge before she hears Boey's frantic footsteps coming up behind her. He scarcely stops himself in time to avoid running into the players heading the opposite direction — each bears a PSO watch, of course, so it's easy to spot them at a glance, unless their wrists are covered. And not a single one wears a face quite as young as Mariko's and his own. Just another reminder that the two aren't even meant to be in this world.

Not that it matters to Mariko in the slightest. The disapproving remarks of grown-ups can't reach her here. Not in a way that matters.

Stepping off the bridge, she eagerly runs her gaze across the many shops lining the pathway ahead of them. No shortage of wares or commodities to worry about here. From refreshments and clothing to bag décor and pocket-sized weapons, vendors of all varieties open their doors from sunrise to sunset to anyone with a nickel to their name — at least so far, Mariko hasn't encountered any shop owner unwilling to sell her their merchandise simply because she looks a little young. They're just NPCs, after all, or, 'non-player characters.' They don't know better. They look at and treat the girl simply as though she's an ordinary traveler just looking to get by in the world.

Even the woman who sold Mariko a knife didn't ask her any questions. Merely sent her on her way with an encouraging "Be careful out there, lass."

Boey has yet to take notice of said knife hanging in a sheath from her belt. It's probably for the best. He'll learn of it soon enough at the Marble Dome when Mariko will have to turn in her weapons until the end of the concert.

"If you see anything on the display tables, we can grab it before we head to the Dome," she says, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Boey was still following her. He is, but it's so clear his eyes have been snagged by something in one of the shop windows. Mariko stops to investigate. "Do you want it?" she then asks, and Boey snaps to attention like a deer at the sound of someone stepping on a branch.

"N-no, it's fine," he blurts. "You wanted to get to the concert, right?"

"We have a little time."

"...I don't have any money."

"You start with some funds. Open your menu."

"...how do I-"

"Just get over here..."

Mariko had foreseen Boey wanting to linger at the shops, despite the apparent 'go-with-the-flow' attitude he expressed from the get-go. He isn't the subtlest when it comes to masking his interest in cheap, useless trinkets, and Mariko couldn't blame him. In a world like this where you've no need for the usual necessities of life, all of a sudden the plethora of reasons not to blow money on a bag of color-changing glow-in-the-dark marbles become a lot less compelling.

And thus the two at last find themselves approaching the great Marble Dome with minutes to spare before the start of Alias's concert. Luckily concerts in Paracosia cater well to last-minute guests, so long as there is physical space inside the venue. The only purpose actual tickets serve is for the occasional, exclusive, in-person meeting with the star herself, but Mariko had already missed her chance for it this time before she even logged on. So she couldn't blame Boey for that one. Maybe next time, if she could be so lucky, but for now, it's merely a quick pass through security and they're sent on their way by the bubbly staff member who assisted them.

Mariko can already hear the crowd from beyond the escalator she and Boey climb. The ceiling towering over them stands nothing in comparison to the overall sheer size of the stadium that the crowd occupies. Mariko curls and stretches her fingers over and over, just trying to get out the slightest ounce of her energy. She throws out her wrist and presses a quick thumb to the screen to check the time — they would make it alright, and now that she thinks about it, perhaps it's for the best that they're arriving so close to the start of the concert. If she had to wait any longer it may have killed her inside. To experience in person the healing music crafted by the android princess herself, said to be the antidote to the sorrow carried by a nation of people who were all whisked away from their collapsing homes and planted here, in Paracosia...

There lies such a vast and spellbinding story full of depth behind every inch of this world, in every corner, in every soul that inhibits these different civilizations, and Mariko grieves at the thought she may not have time to learn of them all to their fullest extent. She tries not to entertain it too much. Worrying about the future can be saved for real life — the boring and dismal reality outside the Dream State System. Here, it's just her, Boey, and the steadily rising cheers of Alias's enraptured audience.

The idol hasn't even appeared on stage yet. When Mariko and Boey enter the stadium, Rows upon rows of players and NPCs alike occupy the seats, their heads turned intently towards the T-shaped stage and massive screens on either side of it. Of course, it isn't surprising that the entire pit is already filled, primarily by the avid Alias fans who show up hours in advance for a chance at getting up front. Mariko is just glad to be here. There's no time to be jealous of the early birds. She grabs Boey's hand and takes off down the uppermost level in search of the best available seats where they could still sit next to each other. And she locates them not a moment too soon.

The lights dim. The audience cheers. The loud boom of a bass drum sounds throughout the stadium, and with it the dual screens on stage light up with Alias's face. She appears with the visage of an angel, her elegant features catching light in all the most flattering of places, the loose and colorful fabrics of her flashy costume gathering in folds as she raises her arm to the sky. With her chin upheld, it becomes easier to catch a glimpse of the lines trailing up her neck illuminated by the electric energy that flows through her — a reminder of her status as an android, yet even with that visible evidence, it's an impossible thing to believe there isn't a soul dwelling deep within her. Just by hearing the pure, passionate tones of Alias's voice as it breaks its way from the confines of her mechanical body could push that thought to the back of one's mind. She couldn't sound more human, more heartfelt with every syllable of gold that touches the ears of her listeners, captivating far more than the orchestra of instruments playing over the stage speakers.

The first song seems to last forever and mere seconds at the same time. Even once the music dies down and Alias prepares to address the audience for the first time, Mariko still wonders if her own heart is beating. She knows it's a dream, but it all feels beyond unreal.

"How is everyone doing tonight?!" Alias shouts, running a hand through her long ponytail. Such a beautiful shade of pink, Mariko thinks to herself, and it blends perfectly with the scattered, dyed streaks of green as well. It's so unique, so stunningly her. "I was worried the cloudy skies would keep you guys away, but I can't spot a single empty seat out there. I see some angels in the crowd, too, angels, show me your hands!!"

The screens draw attention to a group of fans bearing gorgeous pairs of wings in one of the upper decks of the stadium. Without realizing it Mariko reaches out to grip Boey's arm and shake him somewhat aggressively. "Boey, look," she whispers, despite knowing it's unlikely Boey could be looking anywhere else now. "Look, Boey. They came here all the way from the floating islands."

"I see them," Boey whispers back, not knowing what else to say. Of course he thinks they're cool, but his own excitement pales in comparison to Mariko's. Besides, her attention has already been so abruptly reclaimed by Alias the moment she opens her mouth again.

"It means the world that you all took time out of your day to come see me," she announces, her lovely smile doubling in size. Mariko's own heart skips a beat. "I'm hoping that some day I'll be able to tour across Paracosia instead of just Wynsmith, but for now, allow me to show you the time of your life right here in the heart of the nation!!"

Once more does the sound of Alias's voice capture the audience's hearts, pitting them against one another in competition to have their own voices reach her ears. But not Mariko. She's far too entranced to even dream of speaking while Alias's face is on screen. The flowy, golden sash tied around the idol's waist bears the fanciful, handwritten 'A' of her logo — it must be available somewhere in Wynsmith, Mariko wonders. At least a copycat design. She would love to have one for herself, even if it costs all the money she earned thus far from carrying out quests throughout the city.

She makes a mental note to look into it after the concert.

The crowd is brought to an obedient hush as Alias gets into position for her next song. She's always by herself on stage, no backup dancers, no live band...just the spotlight on her and her alone. But not today, apparently. Without warning, and without introduction, a shadowy, faceless figure appears a length of space behind her. Floating without form, without clear intention. For such a short time the audience assumes it's part of the show — some sort of illusion produced by projectors hidden from sight. Being that this is a concert, it wouldn't be so shocking if that were the case. But soon enough, Alias takes notice of the figure, and it begins to glitch in and out of existence as the stage lights flicker.

Then, one by one, those stages lights burst.