Chapter 2
Onboarding
The Viridis Survival Guide is a YA sci-fi serial about Ava, a people-pleasing 17-year-old who enters a virtual program while she sleeps to save her dying brother, only to discover she may never wake back up.
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NEW MESSAGE:
[CLOUDKIND admin | 09-21 09:00 PM]
Welcome to the Cloudkind Workforce Program!
We’re excited to unlock your full potential.
: :Begin sync protocol…: :
: :ERROR/ /CONFLICT DETECTED: :
Entering the dream—or my new sleeping alternate reality—feels like being pulled under water by a stranger. I haven’t even had time to process the eerie feeling before a corporate onboarding message emerges in my field of vision, all cheery font and fake enthusiasm.
And then an error? Conflict detected.
The message dissolves into blackness.
There’s no text. No blinking prompts to interact with. Just darkness. Then white. Then, even more unsettling, static.
FLASH.
A figure stands at the water’s edge, motionless. Something about them tugs at me, low in my stomach. Recognition. Or fear. I can only see their outline. It’s fuzzy, like a dark shadow. My breath hitches. Their head tilts, as if listening to the sea. I inhale and the world snaps.
FLASH.
The figure is in a rowboat now. Pale hands. Heavy water. Jagged black rocks ahead—like something that shouldn’t exist. The image tears. Bars of static carve across the scene. Lines of code flicker at the edges, nonsense to me: // external stream // trace-id: obscured //
FLASH.
The boat jolts. The figure has their back to me. They look down over the side of the boat before standing and diving into the water. Vanishing without a sound.
Something cold opens in me like a door I didn’t agree to walk through. One minute I’m reading a predictably stale corporate greeting, the next I’m getting an error message and being flooded with confusing images of someone throwing themselves into the ocean.
A high-pitched whining noise claws at my skull. My teeth ache and my jaw locks. I can’t tell if I’m screaming or if the simulation is screaming for me. My throat burns like I’m the source and I try to stop it, but the sound won’t break, just keeps rising and rising.
Make it stop. I want the piercing screech to stop.
The noise stretches like a wire pulled tight through my skull. The static thins, and a layered, filtered voice slides into whatever is left of my composure.
“Follow.”
One word. Ominous and confusing.
Then everything collapses into white noise.
A wave of salty air slaps into me. I can taste brine on my tongue. But I’m not wet.
My eyes sharpen and I see that I’m on a ferry.
Not a cute commuter ferry. This thing is wide and riveted, brass railings, and a deck that shines like someone forgot to let it dry. No crew, no passengers, only empty benches and lights that sputter as though haunted.
I stumble backward. My legs hold me, solid and shaking all at once. I grip the railing hard. I’m awake, but this isn’t real. It can’t be. My hands won’t stop trembling.
I check my pockets. No phone. No wallet. No ID. I’m in virtual reality after all, so I guess that makes sense. My clothing is wrong. I’m in an emerald-green button-down and black slacks—not what I was wearing before. Not what I would ever choose to wear.
Okay. Deep breath. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. That was weird, but I appear to be in Senium now. I must be traveling to the place I’m supposed to be testing.
I walk around the ferry, trying to make sense of how I ended up here. The deck is lined with empty benches, their metal seats rocking slightly with the motion of the water. Inside is no different—rows of vacant chairs, the air stale and waiting.
I’m about to descend the stairs to the lower deck when a loud, echoing song slips through the empty interior and lures me to the top deck.
There, balanced on the railing, is a woman belting a ballad so confidently it should be illegal. She wears a slick black gown that clings to her like liquid and her matching hair flows like a long waterfall, disappearing over the railing and into the sea. She manages to hold a sloshing martini glass in one hand without spilling a single drop.
I’m suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. Everything about her face is too perfect, the way someone tries to reconstruct a person from memory and forgets the quirks that make them human. Nothing about this is normal.
This is definitely Senium.
“Uh, excuse me?” I say, hesitant to interrupt the song she’s clearly enjoying.
She holds up a finger, motioning for me to wait while she absolutely nails a high note.
Wow. Okay. Rude, but talented.
She continues singing and something inside me bristles, probably the part that’s spent a lifetime smiling and nodding through nonsense. But I don’t have time for nonsense right now. I need some freaking answers.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt again, “but can you tell me what’s going on?” The words burst out of me in a single panicked breath.
Singing lady stops and smirks.
“Welcome to Senium, Ava Lumen.” She extends the back of her free hand up to my mouth and says, “I’m Rosie, your AI Guide.”
I take her hand awkwardly and shake it, although she leaves it lingering there like she wants me to kiss it or something.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, withdrawing my hand. “So, is that where we’re going?”
I gaze out toward the dark mountain that looms before us. It’s not at all the cubicle-office scenario that I had envisioned for day one.
“Bit dramatic, isn’t it? The pointed cliffs, the ominous fog, the whole ‘island of doom’ aesthetic,” she says, a wide smile plastered to her face, “Fitting for Sen Academy.”
My breath catches. That death-trap mountain is the Sen Academy?
I’ve heard whispers about it. Only five percent of implanted young adults make it in, the best and brightest. Because it’s the elite training ground for Senium’s future leaders. They’re entrusted to create and maintain the virtual world, enforce its laws, and protect its users. I’ve heard they’re trained to wield specialized powers; abilities people are desperate to have.
“No. That’s impossible. I’m supposed to be in the new Workforce Program, not building the virtual world.”
I have no business being at that Academy. I’m no leader. Leo needs me, he needs money for his treatment. He doesn’t need me fooling around with special powers or building some lame simulated castle or whatever it is these people do all night.
I smile though, half-expecting her to tilt her head back and laugh like it’s all some big joke or offer some explanation about a change in office headquarters. But neither happens.
“And yet, here you are,” she says. “This special ferry trip is quite unprecedented. You’re a late arrival and students aren’t usually admitted after the start date. I just had to find out: what makes you so special, hmm?”
I sputter a nervous laugh. She’s got this wrong, all wrong.
“I’m not special,” I murmur, shaking my head. “This is a mistake.”
Rosie sighs. “Ugh. So ungrateful. Do you know how many of you humans would kill for this opportunity?”
But I don’t want this opportunity. This is not at all what I signed up for. I’m supposed to be earning money for Leo, money I won’t be getting staying here on this boat.
Panic sets in. I have to get out of here. I have to wake up and tell Dr. Kasian my implant malfunctioned. My gaze skitters around the deck, unable to settle. Railings. Empty benches. Vast ocean waves. We’re completely alone.
“How do I get out of here?” I say, frantic, leaning over the railing. I could jump. I could swim. But to where?
The ocean stretches out before me, so vast and real that my stomach flips. But maybe if I just jump, I can swim to shore. Maybe there will be some kind of back door. It’s a virtual world so, I can probably dogpaddle my way there. Or… I don’t know, leapfrog across the waves.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, darling,” Rosie singsongs, as though reading my thoughts.
I stiffen. “Why not?”
She turns to face me, sipping her martini slowly before answering, like she has all the time in the world.
“Swimming is an advanced control,” she says. “Not that you’d know that. You’d last all of five seconds before perishing.”
I stare at her, processing the grim weight of her words.
She smirks, clearly enjoying my terror. “You might regenerate, of course. But I have heard from several other unfortunate souls that simulated drowning deaths are by far the most uncomfortable.”
My stomach turns. Okay. That sounds terrible.
“But if I die here, I’ll wake up in reality?”
If I can just get out of this, no matter how painful drowning feels, I can figure out what went wrong and fix it.
“That’s the thing about simulated deaths,” she says lightly. “It’s really a roll of the dice. Some wake up. Some… don’t.”
Time stretches thin. What the hell? Real-world death? I thought Senium users always regenerated in VR. Dr. Kasian never said actual death was possible.
“Looks like you could use this,” Rosie says, handing me a book. “Try not to die too much. Unless you want it to be permanent.”
I take the surprisingly heavy thing like it might bite me. It’s an emerald green book with glowing white text on the front that reads, The Viridis Survival Guide.
“Does this say how to undo a life-ruining clerical error?”
Rosie doesn’t blink. She just smiles with that vaguely apologetic AI face, like she’s been programmed to register disappointment but not actually fix it.
“Look, I shouldn’t be here,” I say, flipping the book open just to give my hands something to do. “I’m supposed to be testing out features and getting a paycheck. Not this— whatever this is.”
Rosie’s eyes narrow as she studies me. “Darling, you’re not a Legacy are you? Is that why you’re so willing to jump to your grave?”
A shiver runs down my spine at her words, at the way she says them so casually, like she’s discussing an errand.
“I’m not dead if that’s what you’re asking.”
When a Senium leader or Sen Academy student dies in the real world, their family can choose to have their consciousness uploaded into the virtual world. These “Legacies” continue living virtually, able to see their loved ones, continue their work, and return to the hobbies and routines they once had. It’s one of the perks of being specially chosen.
I can’t be dead. Not only would I remember something as consequential as that, I’m not supposed to be a Sen Academy student.
She shrugs, taking another sip of her martini, savoring it like she’s savoring my discomfort. “Well, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Students aren’t placed here by accident.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. If I died during implantation, after being sent to Sen Academy by mistake, I would qualify as a Legacy. But would my dad choose for me to stay in Senium forever?
I don’t know if I believe in an afterlife or heaven, but I do know that my mother died before Senium even existed, when I was just a baby. And if her consciousness, or her soul, or whatever it is, doesn’t reside here, then I don’t want mine to either.
“No,” I say. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t right. I need to talk to someone. A real person. Or—whatever counts as real around here. I can’t stay.”
Rosie scoffs, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Leave? You want to discard such an incredible gift?” She shakes her head, her expression one of genuine disappointment. “There are only two ways you leave Sen Academy. One is graduating. And two is Levi Sen himself creating an exit for you.”
“Is that an option? How can I talk to him?” I ask. I know he’s the creator of the world and all, but there’s got to be a way to speak to him, especially if there’s an emergency. And this is definitely an emergency.
Rosie leans back, studying me with a bored expression.
“Why are you such a dud?” she says, her tone almost petulant. “You’re standing at the threshold of greatness and all you can think about is leaving?” She picks up her martini glass, which has been balancing impressively on the railing, and finishes the drink in one smooth gulp before tossing it into the simulated ocean.
Before I can respond, she winks at me. “Good luck, Darling Dud. You’re going to need it.”
With that, she vanishes into thin air, leaving me alone, survival guide in hand, as the ferry enters the gaping mouth of a cavern that swallows all the light.
So much for AI guidance.
I glance over the rail one last time. The waves look brutal, but maybe survivable. If I jump now, maybe I can still get out. Get back to the real world. Back to the program. Back to Leo.
A floating walkway unfolds, leading to an entrance in the rock. I hesitate. I need to wake up, claw my way out of this nightmare. But what if I die and don’t wake up? I don’t want to be stuck here forever. I need to get this glitch sorted fast so that I can start earning for Leo.
I glance back at the sea. The cave opening is gone. Just like that.
I take a breath. Okay. This is happening.
The shadows press in as I step onto the unfolding ramp, and something deep inside me knows—
This is only the beginning of something much worse.
The first portion of this chapter describing their consciousness being transfered is so visceral. It reminded me of the deep nerve pain of getting a filling with not enough anesthesia and it made it all the more uncomfortable. Bravo!
The jarring nature of having your consciousness plunged into a virtual world was well described. Lots of intrigue built with the error messages, ghostly words and unexpected locations. I’m a sucker for deadly academies.