He spoke too soon.

Contrary to expectation, it took a month of late nights, pretending not to see the incredulous looks from Jori, dodging Zee’s worried stalking, and ignoring Marai’s narrowed eyes before he could even create his Redlands avatar.

It went better than he thought it would.

Mostly.

He succeeded, in any case. At the end of October, he had enough money to buy a full gaming rig and make a good enough start in Redlands.

The process went like this:

Zee of the future taught Eli of the future how to upgrade a MarkVIII headset to better performance by replacing its processor cube.

Eli’s first thought when remembering that was, of course, trickery and illegal shenanigans.

The MarkVIII and the MarkVIII Premium didn’t have that large a difference in performance. But the MarkVIII Premium headset was nearly twice the price of the regular MarkVIII.

In the virtual world, even the smallest hardware advantage could mean sacrificing or overcoming the thin line of difference between win and loss in a game. Skill and talent were important, of course, but there was a reason that VRMMORPGs were called games for the rich.

Eli only needed the best synthprinter possible and enough cash for raw materials, and he’d be able to sell an upgraded MarkVIII as a MarkVIII Premium.

And with the MarkIX just coming out, the prices for a MarkVIII were dropping low enough for Eli to turn a good profit.

That planned, the first step on that first day was to go to a loanshark.

Eli was still surprised it was so easy to get himself into that much debt. Massive, massive debt. The devil’s office was even only a few streets away from his apartment.

When he’d entered the loan office, he was only greeted with a face full of smoke and a question: “How much?”

He decided to be as brief. “One hundred thousand. In ecru.”

The white-haired man paused, and he looked up from the unnervingly neat desk that only contained a single tablet computer with a thin smile. “Planning a space vacation?”

Eli stretched his lips in answer, an empty expression. “Does it matter?”

“It does, in fact, matter.” The smile tipped sharply, like a knife balanced on the edge.

“No.”

The man snorted. Took a card-reader from a cabinet and programmed it with graceful artistic fingers. “Touch your ID to this. It better be real. We’ll wipe your data after you pay us back, of course.”

Eli dug into his pocket for his census registry card, something he’d never even took out of its holder since the government mailed it to him after he turned twenty-one and eligible to vote.

The pale-haired man, whose name might be Chenser or Clomsen – he couldn’t really see the certificate hanging on the wall, puffed a smoke ring and nudged the card-reader toward him.

Eli pressed his ID card on the opaque panel of the small machine. He didn’t think he’d be rejected. He had no debts, no criminal record, and no blots on his financial history.

He was the perfect patsy.

He was also unemployed, but Eli didn’t think that was important to the guy entering information into the loan office database like he was stabbing someone.

Somehow, when you tell your customers outright that you’d wipe their records from your systems that casually, people know there are things about you that they can count on.

Shady, shady things.

Like ignoring employment status just to have another concussed fish to possibly dangle on the end of your line.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Eli walked out with enough money in his account to buy his whole building and a man that looked like a serial killer knowing his address.

He walked away, trying not to look back, and reminded himself that he’d only regret this if he defaulted on the payments.

That only meant, he must not fail.

His phone pinged as he turned the corner.

He brought up the display.

His search for high-grade synthprinters in the area, rent or sale, came up with two suitable candidates, but only one had an appraiser’s rating.

He closed out the one without the rating.

The one left was a sale of 10,000 ecru, portable industrial class, with a 4-star rating from the appraiser. He hesitated, then took a breath and sent a message to the seller:

>>Hi, I’m interested in the machine. Pickup today, cash?<<

An industrial synthprinter was cheap at that price. And the appraiser’s mark was recent. He didn’t want to miss it.

He started back to the apartment, walking slowly. The buildings around him were comfortingly enclosing – not a bit like the wide-open spaces of Zushkenar. Eli had been born in Greatcentral City, had grown up here. His parents and their parents had grown up here. He walked slowly, engraving the city back into his bones.

It had been years since these streets were lost to him.

They were exactly the same.

Noisy, full of people, full of moving advertisements, lots of sharp blinking lights even in daytime. It was about noon, and everything was a frantic hurrying pace around him. He’d garnered not a few glares for his ambling walk on a business street full of people doing lunch or lunch meetings.

“Eli!”

Across the street, Zee waved from the door of a bistro, motioning him over. The few faces pressed against a window behind him were vaguely familiar. Oh hey, that was the Hazelnutsward bistro, wasn’t it?

Well, it was noon. He should eat.

Eli turned, making the person who was behind him curse and sidestep, and retread his path to the marked crossing before jogging to the other side. There was a difference between a slow walk on a pedestrian lane and a slow walk on a intersection that was already lit green.

Zee did his familiar half-smile greeting. “I saw you trying to annoy the business lunchers, and decided to save you from their retribution.”

“Their eyes looked like they were getting to the fire and brimstone level,” Eli agreed.

He followed Zee to the table by the window.

The bistro was self-serve, an airy yet comfortable ambiance. He took one long look around, discreetly wistful. His mom liked the burgers here, but couldn’t eat a whole one, so every time they came Eli was stuffed with one and a half of their Gigantiers.

There were two people he didn’t know or remember mixed in with others he did. “Hey all. Celebrating?”

He noted Marai wasn’t present, but the unforgettable genial gentlemanly stoneface of her boyfriend Tal sat nearest the window. Who kept up a smile all the time like that guy? Creepers, that’s who.

That other techhead guy that was part of Eli’s recollection of Zee’s friend group wasn’t there. Good. That guy was a jerk.

“On Jori’s left is Sian Lange, and on his right is Rashid Li.” Zee chivvied Eli into a seat and dropped an unopened Gigantier burger in front of him.

Jori glanced at him, but only nodded.

Eli decided to go with his lead. “Thanks. New colleagues?”

“They are.”

“Congratulations. I’m Elias Crewan. You can just call me Eli.”

A Gigantier was a massive tower of meat and sauces, pickled vegetables and cheese, between toasty buttered bread. It was their regular burger offering.

He started cutting his into manageable slices, glancing around briefly.

Both of Zee’s new friends were seriously pretty. What the hell.

Sian Lange had dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Even dressed in a casual summer dress and cardigan, she had an air about her that said ‘cross me at your peril’.

Did someone upset her? Jori, who was beside her, didn’t look uncomfortable, so maybe that was her default.

Eli was a little surprised at the name. Zee of the original timeline mentioned he’d just been engaged to a Sian that last time they met before the Quake.

Was this her then?

He didn’t think they were friends this early. But then, with Eli’s reaction to the HI results in the last timeline, it was reasonable that he’d never met Zee’s work friends.

She had a Tyrannitar before her, which was a burger larger than the Gigantier, and with extra-spicy sauce besides.

Respect. Eli gave her a silent thumbs up.

Rashid Li was sitting beside Jori, who was pale-haired, pale-skinned, and pale-eyed, and the contrast between them was eye-catching. He had one half of a Gigantier before him, plus two massive servings of fries drenched half to sogginess by a mess of sauces.

Half of the fries were likely from his female colleague’s plate.

Rashid’s soulful brown eyes and Jori’s cool grey gaze fixed on him, the first curious and the second calculating.

Aha, Jori was suspicious of Eli looking for a quiet basement, and probably his evening stroll in the slums. There was a slight distance hidden under the sharp eyes. Aha, so those memories weren’t wrong.

Eli was unlikable to all Zee’s friends, it seemed. It was only that Marai wanted to change Eli, that she had so much contact with him.

“Hi.” Eli nodded at them simply and took a bite of burger.

Apart from Jori and Tal from Zee’s friend group, there was Cenree, who Eli didn’t know that well. She was part of Zee’s techhead group, who Eli had never had much contact with.

She leaned over Zee, who was between them, to squint at Eli.

“You look like a vampire,” she said.

Eli met her gaze, then chomped down on his burger, letting the sauces ooze on all sides, not looking away.

Her grin was like lightning, a flash of white teeth against dark skin. “Baby, buy me dinner first.”

“Cenree,” Zee sighed as he dropped his face into his hands. His ears were red.

Cenree laughed, poked at the red tinged cheeks between Zee’s fingers.

Eli just shrugged and continued to eat.

He could see though, that he’d interrupted the flow of conversation from before.

Zee’s friends knew him but were used to him keeping quiet so their conversations mostly bypassed him.

The two new people didn’t know him, but they picked up on the air of the others when they tried to talk to him.

Zee was keeping the conversation afloat, but despite how many friends he had Zee wasn’t really the kind of person who was comfortable with casual social interaction.

The tech-brained nerd.

Eli sighed inwardly, then caught Rashid’s eye. “Is that a craftmaster badge?”

He’d seen the little pin fastened to the buttonhole of the man’s shirt, under his jacket. It was familiar because he’d once earned one in Zushkenar just months before he time-traveled.

Rashid looked at him, some excitement sparking in his eyes. “Do you play Craftmasters?”

“I don’t, no.” Eli picked his words carefully, suddenly remembering that the recent expansion to the game had polarized opinion in the gaming world. “I might join Redlands though.”

Rashid looked resigned and irritated. But not at Eli. “The game is too different now.”

“The forums had a lot of speculation, but I can’t think that someone who loves Craftmasters as much as Orven Norge reportedly does would abandon crafting.”

Rashid looked curious now. “Do you then believe he was forced to sell?”

“I think he wanted the game to survive.” Eli thought about the vague impressions he got in the future, and the flame wars in the forums at present. “Given the choice on whether to allow the game to grow or keep it static for years more, he chose evolution.”

The olive-skinned craftmaster smiled. “If that is so, then why the current emphasis on battle mechanics?”

Eli shrugged. “Ran out of time? It’s been two years since RSI bought Redlands, after all. There might be a rollout of upgrades in the coming months.”

“You think there’ll be a crafting resurgence in the future. Possibly a similar expansion.” The other’s brows lifted. “You have bold theories, considering you haven’t played the game yet.”

“You don’t think it’s logical, considering Norge is still part of the development team?”

Eli closed his mouth, glanced at Zee, who had offered that question before Eli could say anything.

“RSI’s contribution to the project is too confident,” said Tal said, his smile not changing in the slightest. “Some might say it weighs too much on the company’s side. Norge is only an employee.”

Zee’s eyes lit up, and a lively debate started on the future of Redlands.

It was still too tame for Zee’s usual group though, so Eli interjected earnestly into a debate, “It could be aliens.”

Cenree slapped one hand on the table, pointed at Eli with the other. “Don’t talk aliens into this!”

It was Sian, unexpectedly, who flamed the blaze. “Yes. Giant automatons are more likely.”

Now Eli knew why she and Zee got engaged in the future.

Cenree choked in outrage. “What did you say?! You and me, come on!”

The bistro was used to them causing a ruckus every now and then, so all the other tables ignored them. It was likely only because the owner was a relative of Jori that they didn’t get banned.

Eli believed the Hazelnutsward bistro had a reputation in this time’s local social media: if you can’t handle the nuts, don’t bother entering.

As the debate grew heated, Eli continued eating quietly, drowning in nostalgia and satisfied.

Only Jori winked at him, before continuing his inflammatory part in the debate. Eli ignored him.

Then he realized that around him were a craftmaster, two former beta-testers, and the others seemed equally interested in Redlands.

Opportunity, as they say, knocked.

“Do you all play?” he interjected into a lull in the ruckus.

Zee was already playing, as were Rashid, Jori, and Cenree. Sian’s brother had gifted her a headset, but she hadn’t registered an account yet. Tal was borrowing his cousin’s gear, and had an account but was waiting for Marai before building his avatar character.

Eli smiled at them. “What race and class are you thinking of choosing?”

Sian looked thoughtful. “A Battlemage, possibly.”

There was a short silence as everyone imagined the petite librarian type as a Battlemage, a frontline heavy-battleclass.

Then Cenree cackled. “I like it! I’m a Forged armorer but Battlemage or Berserker aren’t bad either.”

Eli thought about Cenree, who was even more manic than Zee, as a Berserker and clamped down on a shudder at the image. Nope.

Jori threw his arm over Sian’s shoulders, a distinctly flirty grin on his face. “I’m a Swordbearer. Us weapon users should stick together don’t you think?”

He was all joking, but Sian didn’t know him enough to see that. She leaned away.

Jori only grinned wider, and his mouth opened to say something likely even more offensive.

“How about you, Tal?” Zee quickly cut into the conversation, his face still a little red. “Don’t you like the Swordbearers as well? Or were you set on Apothecary?”

Eli was surprised the other would think about taking a crafting class. And an Apothecary? His creepy smile would be even more creepy surrounded by jars of weird glowy stuff, sacks of mysteriously steaming powders, and bundles of strange vegetation hanging on the walls.

“I do like them both. But I’ve tried out my cousin’s Beastrider build,” said the smiling man. “It was amazing.”

Zee lit up. “It is! It’s a class that does well at any combat range. And have you checked out the amount of choices there are for a mount?”

That started an in-depth discussion on the pros and cons of various aspects of Redlands.

Ah, success.

Eli discreetly started recording.. This was all good information.