Chapter 4
Viridis
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:
[ROSIE.AI | 09-22 09:00 PM] Rule 2: You survived? Congratulations. Don’t get used to it. xx
The fear, the weightlessness, the explosion of pain are gone.
I blink. I’m back at the base of the Entrance Ascent. Rosie stands there, admiring her talon-like manicure as if I hadn’t just plummeted fifty feet. But there’s no blood. No injury. No proof it happened.
Had I imagined it?
“Did I—”
“Fall to your very painful death and regenerate the next night as though nothing happened? Correct.”
I exhale slowly and frown. “So, I’m alive in reality? I don’t remember waking up.”
If I’m alive out there, I should remember the pull back into my body. But I don’t.
Instead, I’m still annoyingly virtual.
I should have woken up in the clinic the moment of my simulated death. Dr. Kasian and Dad would’ve found out about the placement error. They were monitoring me all night. They would have pulled me out of Sen Academy immediately, reset me, shoved me back into the Workforce Program before I even had time to think.
So why am I still here? And why can’t I remember reality?
Rosie tilts her head. “You humans. Your memories are so fickle.”
She points to my wrist where a fresh holographic text pulses above it.
“Rule 2 of the survival guide is—don’t get used to surviving?” I ask.
Rosie shrugs. “This isn’t a warm and fuzzy place, Darling Dud.”
Yeah. I’m getting that. This is an execution pit disguised as a school.
“How do I send a message?” I ask. “I need to tell my dad where I am.” I rub the glowing script on my wrist like maybe it has a hidden reply button.
Once my dad knows, he’ll fix this. He has to.
“You can’t,” Rosie says, “It’s forbidden to speak with anyone outside of the Academy.”
The words slam into me like a locked gate. No outside contact. No exit. This whole place is a digital prison cell. But she said forbidden, not impossible. There has to be a way around it.
I scan the cave, but it’s still the same closed-up space as yesterday, just quieter. A few students linger in the shadows above, watching. At least they’re not throwing rocks.
“Go ahead and climb. I’ll meet you at the top,” Rosie says with a grin.
“I’m not doing that again.”
“Yes, you are,” Rosie says. “You’re a natural Creator.”
“Creator? What are you talking about?”
“The rope ladder, silly. It wasn’t the most inspiring creation I’d ever seen and you’re clearly not agile enough for combat—”
“I made that? So, that was a test.”
I gaze up at the towering rock. A ridiculous, deadly test.
“A prerequisite,” Rosie says. “To see where your gifts align. Sen Academy is dangerous by design. Students need to be properly prepared for what they’ll face as leaders out in Senium.”
I’m definitely not climbing that again. If I slip and fall, if I fail, there’s no way I’d regenerate a second time. I’m not risking my life to prove I belong here, because I already know I don’t.
“I’m opting out,” I say. I sit down on the cold, rocky ground. I’ll wait it out here. I’ll wake up this time, I know I will. Reality me will fix it.
Rosie hands me the heavy survival guide I had set aside last night. “You may want to skip ahead to rule seven.”
“Why? What’s rule—”
Rosie disappears with an ominous wave as a wet, high-pitched screech sounds behind me.
I turn to see an enormous slimy creature emerge from the shadows. It doesn’t have eyes. There’s only a stretching maw of tiered sharp teeth glinting as it wails. It creeps toward me, its ten clawed-legs clacking with sinister speed on the stone.
I don’t think. I run for the cliff face. But this time, instead of climbing, I imagine that rope ladder, longer, sturdier, hanging all the way down to the ground from the ledge.
It furls down from the ledge in seconds. I climb up the first rung but the creature is right behind me.
SNAP.
A sickening crunch echoes through the cavern as a sharp jolt of pain bursts from my left hand. The thing’s teeth dig in sharp through my middle finger. It’s still holding on as I scream and pry it off of me. I kick the monster hard on the head and it rips part of my finger clean off.
An animalistic cry wrenches out of me.
My hand is throbbing in agony and wet with blood, but I can’t stop to look at it. I grasp and heave myself up each rung with the speed of a possessed monkey. When the creature below me grabs hold of the lowest rung with its massive teeth and yanks on it, the whole ladder sways wildly and I cry out into the darkness.
I cry for help, to wake up, to get out of this sick nightmare. I did not sign up to be chased by flesh-eating monsters. And I refuse to die again.
If there are any students still watching me tonight, they’re quiet. Or maybe my shrieks frightened them off.
I don’t look down. I continue to climb. Thankfully, the creature with a tail like a scorpion and clawed feet like a lobster, doesn’t or can’t follow me up. Still, it twists and tugs the ropes, causing me to clutch the rough rungs hard enough that my palms bleed. Sweat, blood, and stubbornness carry me to the top. And finally, I crawl over the edge, my lungs burning, the remainder of my finger screaming.
My limbs go heavy as I lie flat on the ledge, panting, like they don’t belong to me anymore. All the energy is sapped out of me from that climb. Despite it all, I’m safe.
Rosie is waiting with her ever-cheerful, punchable face.
“Nicely done,” she chirps. “You’ll feel drained after using that creation. I’m surprised you managed it so well. It was more likely that you would be eaten by the Scorb.”
“What. The. Hell,” I manage between ragged breaths.
This place just sics monsters on people, as part of a test? It’s vile. Why would anyone ever want to stay here?
I groan, cradling my mangled finger as another spike of pain hits.
Rosie beckons a man over from the shadows. He’s dressed in a dark uniform that looks like it was engineered for intimidation. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t speak. He just raises a hand over mine and closes his eyes, concentrating.
“Hey—wait—” I flinch back, but it’s too late.
A pulse of blue light sweeps over my hand like waves across sand. There’s a flash of cold, then nothing.
I gaze down. My finger is intact. The blood and pain are gone. It’s perfectly restored, like that freaky monstrosity didn’t just chew it off.
The man steps aside without a word, and vanishes as I mumble, “Thanks.”
I flex my healed hand and stare at the space where he disappeared, wishing that I could too.
“He’s the best Healer that we have. Only the best for my little darlings. Even if they are duds,” Rosie says brightly.
I resist the urge to show her my healed finger as she pulls me to my feet.
“You’re officially a Viridis,” Rosie announces, blowing an exaggerated air-kiss against my cheek like we’re on some red carpet instead of inside a dimly-lit tunnel.
“A vera what?” I grimace. “Look—I’m not officially anything. I’m getting out of here, one way or another.”
“Come along,” she singsongs, waltzing her way through the shadows.
We enter a massive, cylinder-shaped atrium. A spiral staircase built into the rock winds up hundreds of floors, balconies jutting out like jagged teeth. In the middle of the floor sits a perfect wooden square, mahogany polished so bright it gleams against the grit. It’s a bizarre sight, like someone decided the underworld needed a patch of hardwood flooring.
She leads me onto the wooden square and a grid of glowing white circles springs up around us, each labeled with places like Pool, Storage, Aquarium, Refectory Hall, Library, Rooftop, Conservatory. The choices hover in the air like a vending machine of worlds.
“What’s this?”
“The transporter.” Rosie claps like a child at a magic trick. “It’s time for the Grand Tour, Darling Dud.”
She taps one button labeled Viridis Room. The cavern dissolves. The wooden square hums. A massive door materializes inside a dark tunnel.
I glance down at the polished planks beneath us, raising my eyebrows in amazement. We’re not in the main atrium anymore.
“What just happened?”
“Stand on one, choose your destination, and poof!” Rosie says.
“I thought this was a training academy, not a Hogwarts field trip.”
Rosie’s pitying look could curdle milk. “Darling Dud, no one here is learning magic. They’re learning how to be Skilled.”
“Skilled,” I repeat, my tone as flat as the transporter floor.
“Like them.” She points down the tunnel.
Five male students stride toward us with the terrifying certainty of people who never ask for permission.
“They’re training to use combat, controls, and creations,” Rosie goes on. “The three C-skills.”
Her words blur, drowned by the sight of the guys. Their uniforms match mine in cut, but the colors—scarlet, gold, ember-orange—flare like they were tailored for royalty. Their beauty is almost hostile, too polished to feel human or real. The tallest one, the blonde, has brilliant gold eyes and a scar across his cheek that makes him look dangerously handsome rather than marred. I hold my breath as I take in the sight of him.
“Rubers are red—fourth year students. Aurantius are orange—third years. Flavus are yellow—second years. And Viridis, like you, are green—first years,” she explains as they approach.
Then, like it’s an afterthought, Rosie adds, “Of course, green suits you. March seventeenth always favored it. Delivered on March 17th at 8:36 a.m. to be exact.”
“How do you know when I was born?”
The fact that she knows my birthday isn’t the creepy part. Rosie probably has access to my medical records from Cloudkind. It’s probably how she knows I’m not a Legacy. But the time of birth…
Even I don’t know that. I’ve never known that.
So how does she?
Rosie doesn’t answer, just tilts her head and smiles with a dreamy look in her eyes at the five guys who pass by us.
They don’t glance at me. Not once. I’m a flicker at the edge of their vision.
I linger on the attractive blonde guy without thinking.
“Oh, the Dud has taste,” Rosie says, raising a wicked eyebrow at me. “Engaging with upperclassmen is not advised. Especially those five. They’re precisely exceptional.”
Her gaze slides over me like she’s fitting me for a label. “You, on the other hand, seem more like a messy improviser.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
Rosie motions toward a blank metal plaque on the door where a knob or handle should be. Then she grabs my wrist. “This is the common area for first-year students. Simply scan your wrist.”
I glance down and freeze. On my left wrist, green block letters spell out VIRIDIS. It glows like a neon brand. Like I just joined the weirdest club ever.
“It’s your passcode,” Rosie explains. “Just wave it, like so.”
A scream slices through the stillness. A real, guttural, bone-shattering scream rips through the tunnel behind us. It’s followed by a roar, like something ancient just woke up hungry.
I freeze. Every inch of my skin prickles.
“What was that?”
Rosie’s expression doesn’t change, but the usual sparkle behind her eyes dims, just a fraction. Her voice remains chipper, but the tempo tightens.
“Time to go,” she says. “Now.”
She seizes my wrist, stronger than I expect, and swipes it across the metal plaque. The door swings open. She pulls me in and slams the door shut behind us. The sound of the scream lingers in my ears, rattling my ribs.
“Wait—If someone’s hurt—shouldn’t we—”
“Just another student-created monster. Don’t worry. They’ll regenerate tomorrow,” Rosie says. “Probably.”
“The monster or the student?”
“Both,” Rosie says.
Both. Great.
I remind myself that tomorrow I won’t be here. In the meantime, I need to find a way to talk to Levi Sen. And at the very least, avoid a painful death by monster attack.
Inside the common room we are greeted by a careful hush. Every couch seat and chair is filled, the soft percussion of pages turning and keys tapping. No music. No laughter. Even the couches are occupied by students leaning forward, elbows on knees, shoulders closed, reading, thinking, focusing. The fireplace crackles with a knowing spark as several heads lift in my direction, gazes sliding up from notebooks.
My stomach twists as I gaze over the students.
They don’t look surprised to see me. They look assessing. I feel it immediately, that strange sensation of being both too visible and not important enough to acknowledge properly.
I smile, automatic. The kind of smile I give strangers in elevators.
No one smiles back.
One girl blinks, slowly, then returns to her holographic tablet. Someone near the fireplace tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to place me in a category that doesn’t quite fit. The quiet hum of the room returns, as unsettling as the emerald wallpaper that crawls with patterns of shifting vines.
Rosie, oblivious, points to a massive glowing schedule on the wall.
“Here’s the Viridis training schedule,” she speaks at normal volume.
A couple of the students glance up again, irritation barely disguised. Not at the noise so much as our presence.
A floating schedule zips through the air and slaps itself against my wrist before I can flinch.
“What the—”
“Auto-sync,” Rosie chirps. “They like to keep you updated.”
I glance down. My wrist display keeps shifting before I can read it— flashing WARNING: LATE in angry red letters that get bigger every second.
“I’m late to something already,” I whisper.
“Ignore that,” Rosie says, swiping her finger and tapping my wrist. “Technically, you’re about a month late to the semester. Not to worry. Here we go.”
A list of classes appears in a holographic window above my arm.
Class Schedule
Classes are 30 minutes each. 8 hours total time.
9 PM—Log in
10 PM—Free Time
11 PM—Security 101
12 PM—History of Senium & The Academy
1 AM—Combat 101
2 AM—Diagnostics
3 AM—Control Modules
4 AM—Creation 101
5 AM—Log out
Glancing around the room, I avoid eye contact with the students. No luck. One spits in my direction. Another snarls something under his breath to the girl beside him. It’s definitely about me. These must have been some of the same students who were taunting me on the Entrance Ascent.
“Rosie,” I murmur, “they’re looking at me like they want to kill me.”
“How observant of you, Dud,” Rosie says. “That’s because they do want to kill you.”
“Why?” I pause, heart hammering.
“Only 50 students can move up to Flavus, and there are about 100 in Viridis, 101 now including you. If they get rid of you, that’s one less competitor for those spots.”
“What happens if they don’t move up?”
“They have to repeat year one again, until their student score is high enough.”
I can’t imagine staying here any longer than necessary, repeating the same courses and dealing with whatever’s roaring in the tunnels. But I draw the line at killing an innocent student. The other kids seem to feel differently.
I take a moment to step back from Rosie and the center of the space, feeling suddenly too much in the middle of the room. That’s when I see it. Another red countdown, hovering midair off to the side. The numbers blink with slow, deliberate rhythm—9:59… 9:58…
I squint. It’s positioned just above a holographic sign-in board. The name at the top: Levi Sen — Apprenticeship Program Trials. The other students fade. My thoughts snap into place.
Levi Sen.
The only person here who might be able to help me.
I walk over to it, reading a long list of names written in glowing script. I glance back up to the countdown as a strange beeping begins.
“That’s the time left to volunteer. It’s an exciting night. They’ll be selecting soon.” Rosie gestures to the list of names. Underneath that is a wrist keypad similar to the one on the door.
My brain screeches to a halt. If I meet Levi, I can ask him how to get out of here. Or at least how to get back to the Workforce Program.
I freeze in front of the sign-up pad, pulse thudding in my ears. And something strange happens.
The word Follow glows faintly across the metal. It’s that same word I was bombarded with before the ferry.
“Do you see that?” I ask Rosie, pointing to the pad.
“See what?”
She doesn’t see it. Only I can. Someone is trying to tell me something or help me.
The countdown keeps ticking, each second hammering into my chest. My dad always said never sign a contract you don’t understand.
“So, if I sign up for this, I’ll meet Levi? Soon?”
“If you’re selected, it’s one in ten,” Rosie says with a laugh. “Everyone’s clamoring for a shot at apprenticing under the head Creator, even if it’s just to talk about rolling out universal C-skills.”
If I can meet Levi and get out of here before wake up, it’ll buy precious hours that I could be using to help Leo. I bite my lip, and before I can overthink, I thrust my wrist against the sign-up pad. It beeps. The glowing word Follow disappears.
Rosie gasps. “That was bold, Darling Dud. Are you sure?”
“I… I think so.”
I watch as my name is added to the long list of volunteers.
“You haven’t even had your first class yet.”
“I need to meet Levi,” I say and force a smile.
Rosie looks at me like I’ve just said the dumbest thing in the world.
“Rule 2, Darling Dud. Remember rule 2.”
Rosie doesn’t have to worry for me. I won’t get used to surviving here. Because I’m about to meet the man who will get me out for good.