Control was absolute. Nothing moved. Even time lost to the presence of this white void. Seconds froze and eons came and went with no change. Whiteness stretched into the eternities. The only variance was the person that floated inside the nothingness.
Control was suddenly broken as eyes opened. The sensation of movement returned as those eyes looked around but only the whiteness was seen. Time was still frozen. Madness could be seen in the eyes if someone was there to see it.
Then it happened. The void shattered. It was replaced with bold black lines that stayed centered in the vision of those eyes no matter where they focused. The madness in those eyes brought on by the frozen time failed to understand the bold lines as words.
SYSTEM INTEGRATION COMMENCING…
WORLD SCANNING COMMENCING…
The white featureless realm tried to retake control and return, erasing the words. This attempt didn’t last as the words returned to fully show their dominance of the space.
WORLD SCANNING COMPLETE.
FLORA AND FAUNA CATALOGED…
MINERAL RESOURCES CATALOGED…
ADJUSTMENTS CALCULATED.
COMMENCING ADJUSTMENTS…
WORLD UPGRADED…
FLORA AND FAUNA UPGRADED…
MINERALS ALLOCATED…
SECTORS CREATED…
ADJUSTMENTS COMPLETE.
POPULATION ASSESSMENT STARTING…
The words disappeared, taking the entire space with them. With the last remnants fading the eyes closed, all memory of the void and the words forgotten.
***
Bob groaned as he tossed off the sheets. Covered in sweat and feeling stiff and sore as though he had been run over by a truck. With limbs that felt like lead, heavy and uncooperative, each movement slow and painful Bob slowly sat up. There was a vague memory of white. A suffocating overwhelming feeling made his chest tighten every time he took a breath
making it seem like it would be his last. A throbbing dull pain hammered behind his eyes.
Migraine again.
Sunlight filtered weakly through the slatted window blinds. The rustic room was unfamiliar. Walls made from logs and rough sawn timbers. The bedside lamp looked to be made from antlers while the shade was covered in black bears.
As Bob looked around the bleary room came more into focus and helped his mind fight through the pain.
Recognition dawned. Bob knew where he was.
The cabin.
Memories of the previous night staying up late to watch the stars came into his mind causing the throbbing pain to surge.
Why did I leave the meds downstairs?
I knew I should’ve gone to bed earlier. When will I ever learn?
Getting out of bed was an ordeal. Every muscle screamed. But eventually, Bob forced himself up and shuffled toward the stairs.
His family cabin was three stories. The top two floors were made of logs that added a nice rustic charm. The finished basement felt more modern. Bedrooms were on the top and bottom floors. The living spaces were in the middle.
Water came from a spring out by the lake. Power was from solar panels with a backup generator. There were propane lights as a backup if the power wasn’t working but they had never been used.
A wraparound deck provided plenty of areas to see the views. The cabin overlooked Zion National Park, offering what Bob firmly believed was the best view in the world.
This was where he came to breathe.
Everyone he brought said it was more of a lodge than a cabin. And yeah, maybe he was spoiled. But he loved sharing it with everyone. It was home.
As Bob descended the stairs from the top floor, a soft murmur drifted up from the dining room. He strained to hear but missed a step, stumbling. He caught himself just in time.
The voices stopped.
Then came footsteps. George appeared around the corner.
“Good morning, Bob,” George said with a smirk. “No need to sprint. There’s plenty of food. Pancakes’ll be ready in about a minute. There’s bacon on the plate.”
Bob just stared at him. George had been one of his best friends for as long as he could remember. They’d grown up together, along with Kent. The three of them had been inseparable since elementary school and could read each other with just a glance.
“Something wrong, Bob?”
He finally met George’s eyes.
“Migraine again?” George guessed. “Go sit down. I’ll grab you some medicine and a plate.”
“Thanks,” Bob muttered, rubbing his temples. “Should’ve crashed earlier last night.”
Downstairs, the dining room was warm and bright. Tami, Jill, and Dave nursed mugs of coffee around the table. Bob slid into the chair beside Tami.
“Morning, guys. Everyone holding up okay?”
Tami gave a tired smile. “Barely slept. Had some weird blue dreams... Fuzzy now.”
“Same,” Bob said. “Weird dream.”
They chatted idly as more friends trickled in. Everyone looked off. Groggy. Disconnected. Someone joked that maybe the food didn’t agree with them, but unease clung to the edges of the morning.
After picking at his food, Bob decided to lie down again. As he stood, Tami touched his arm.
“Need anything?”
“Maybe some help back up the stairs.”
Entering his room, head still pounding, and not thinking clearly Bob asked without thinking, “Would you mind staying with me until I fall asleep?”
The moment it left his mouth, he regretted it.
But Tami just smiled. “Sure. Let’s get you tucked in first.”
Bob blinked.
Really? She said yes?
Tami helped Bob get under the covers and then moved the recliner next to the bed and sat. They talked quietly while he settled back into bed. Tami doing more of the talking as Bob just tried to block out the pain. Her presence eased the weight behind his eyes. Slowly, he drifted off.
***
The pounding behind Bob’s eyes had eased to a dull twinge by the time he stirred awake. Sitting up slowly, he spotted Tami still in the recliner.
“Have you been here the whole time I was sleeping?”
Tami shook her head. “No. Came back up about an hour ago.”
“What time is it?” he asked.
“It’s after five. You slept most of the day.”
Bob sighed. So much for a hike today. He got up carefully.
They headed downstairs and out to the deck where most of the group sat, soaking in the view. The cabin was perched right on the edge of a rugged basalt ledge with the porch extended to the very brink of the cliff face. This caused the land to drop away sharply making you feel higher than you really were. As the land fell away it revealed a sweeping panorama of canyons and plateaus of Zion National Park.
When they walked out the back door Bob paused for a moment, taking in the view. It always made him feel like he was home. He loved the wild variety—mountains cloaked in pine, aspen, and oak, with deep canyons cut into the mountain by cold, clear streams as they weaved through the land.
Bob’s grandparents had bought the land decades ago. To him, the cabin had always been part of his life. They had spent time up here every summer growing up. With the only access via a little-used service road that wound through the park it gave the cabin a sense of isolation. There were a few other cabins within a 5–10 minute walk so it wasn’t actually isolated.
Also the park maintained a campground at a couple of trailheads about a mile down the service road in the opposite direction of the cabin. The campground was usually full during the summer. In fact as Bob stood there he could hear shouting coming from the direction of the campground. “Sounds like they are having a party over there.”
“Been like that all day.” Kent said.
Bob stood at the railing, gazing out—and suddenly froze.
Something is wrong.
At first, it looked normal. Familiar. But the longer he stared, the more the details felt off. Subtle things. Like someone had recreated the view from memory and missed a few brush strokes.
Kent walked up and lend against the railing next to Bob. “I thought it was just me,” Kent said softly. “It feels... different.”
George watched Bob and Kent talking quietly, sensing something was off. “What are you guys talking about?”
“The view,” Bob glanced back at George. “It’s not right. Like someone moved everything slightly out of place and hoped I wouldn’t notice.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Looks amazing to me.”
They just ignored Jill’s comment. George and Kent knew that Bob knew this place better than anyone. If he said it was off then it was.
George steered conversation toward memories of weekends spent at the cabin, late-night bonfires, hiking trips. Soon the rest had forgotten what Bob had said about the view but the tension never fully left Bob’s chest.
Bob kept staring, wondering if his migraine was warping the view.
He decided that they should get away from the view for a while. “We should go for a drive,” Bob interrupted. “Check out the lake before sunset.”
Jill, Tami, and Alice all loved that idea. With their acceptance the guys were also all on board.
***
Bob stepped outside toward the trucks. George caught up with him, unusually serious.
Stolen novel; please report.
“I need you to see something,” he said.
They walked out of earshot towards Bob’s truck.
“The trucks won’t start.”
“What?” Bob stared. “Both of them?” Narrowing his eyes. “This isn’t the time for some prank, George.”
George shook his head firmly. “It’s no joke. They’re completely dead.”
“Are you sure?” Bob asked again, incredulous.
George’s voice rose with frustration. “Yes! They’re just... dead. No lights even when you open the door. They are dead dead.”
Bob ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got a charger—”
“Nope,” George interrupted. “Already looked. Doesn’t matter anyway the power is out.”
“The power’s out?”
Kent, coming to see why Bob and George were being secretive, spoke up overhearing Bob’s questions. “Oh—yeah. I noticed earlier. The solar system and generator are not working.”
“Thanks for the memo, Kent,” Bob muttered, heading to the garage. He had pushed the trucks to the back of his mind for now.
The entire power system was unresponsive. No output. No hum. Even the generator, fueled by still-running propane, wouldn’t turn over.
Everything had failed.
Frustrated, Bob left the garage and gathered everyone in the living room.
“Power’s out. The truck's batteries are dead. We were planning on heading home tomorrow anyway so does anyone have service so we can call for someone to meet us here in the morning to fix the trucks?”
After everyone checked their phones everyone reported that they were also dead. Not one would even power on.
They discussed things for a few more minutes. “We can either hike to a nearby cabin or head for the campground.” Bob explained. “I say we check the closest cabins for help before dark.”
Not coming up with a better plan they decided to walk to the neighbors.
The dirt road leading away from the cabin twisted through dense forest, a mix of tall pines and slender aspens. Trees lined the road so closely that they blocked most of the view. Occasionally, the forest broke open into grassy clearings dotted with scrub and low brush.
The narrow road meandered over the land’s contours, avoiding sharp inclines wherever possible.
As they walked, Bob began to notice small details that didn’t sit right. Trees looked subtly out of place. Landmarks he knew well were missing. At first, he chalked it up to his migraine just like the view. But the further they walked the stronger the feeling grew.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Still no cabins.
Dave frowned. “Didn’t you say ten minutes max?”
Bob stopped looking around. “You're right, we should've been to one by now,”
The land didn’t feel right. Turning a full 360-degrees. Bob felt that the trees seemed... wrong. He turned to Kent and George.
“Either of you recognize this area?”
Kent shook his head slowly. “Like I said earlier, I figured it was just me. But now...”
George gave a sheepish shrug. “I was chatting with Jill. Not really paying attention. You live and breath this mountain.”
Bob exhaled. “We should head back. Something is going on. We can hear people at the campground so we can hike there in the morning. No more surprises tonight.”
They returned to the cabin just as dusk was bleeding through the trees. Shadows stretched long across the ground. Walking back, even the road they had already walked felt unfamiliar. Bob felt like they were a bad horror movie.
Once inside the cabin, Bob passed around candles. The flickering glow cast the cabin in warm, deceptive comfort. The mood totally changed in the cabin and their cares fell away.
Bob’s didn’t.
He went to bed early, trying to sleep off the unease. But sleep didn’t come. He tossed and turned thinking about everything that had happened. The noise from the others had finally faded.
His eyes were finally beginning to droop into sleep when he was snapped back to full awareness.
ASSESSMENT COMPLETE.
STATS ASSIGNED.
PROTECTIONS REMOVED.
DUNGEONS CREATED.
CLASS SELECTION BEGINNING…
The void swallowed him.
He’d been here before.
Memories rushed back all at once—of timeless stillness, a world so empty it bent his mind toward madness. Bob braced for the suffocating silence that had haunted him before.
But something was different this time. The words didn’t remain locked in his vision. He looked around.
Five glowing clusters of text floated in the white void, like lanterns in fog—breaking the silence and pulling his focus. Each one pulsed faintly, alive with potential. The strange text he’d seen earlier—Assessment Complete. Stats Assigned. Class Selection Beginning...—now made sense.
CLERIC (FLEDGLING)
A BEGINNING HEALING-BASED CLASS, THE CLERIC FOCUSES ON THE CARE AND RESTORATION OF OTHERS. THIS CLASS IS LIMITED IN ITS USE OF MOST ARMOR AND WEAPONS BUT EXCELS IN SUPPORT AND RECOVERY. MAY THEY BRING LIFE WHEREVER THEY GO.
- STAT BONUSES: INTELLIGENCE +1, WISDOM +1, COMPREHENSION +1 PER LEVEL
- FREE POINTS: +3 PER LEVEL
- CLASS SKILLS UNLOCKED: LEVELS 1, 2, 5, 10, 15, 20, AND 25
- STATUS: UPGRADABLE
MAGE (FLEDGLING)
A MAGIC-BASED CLASS DESIGNED AROUND HARNESSING AND CASTING SPELLS. MAGES ARE VULNERABLE IN CLOSE COMBAT DUE TO THEIR LIMITATIONS WITH ARMOR AND WEAPONS, BUT THEIR POTENTIAL FOR CONTROL IS VAST. POWER CAN SHAPE EVERYTHING.
- STAT BONUSES: INTELLIGENCE +2, WISDOM +2 PER LEVEL
- FREE POINTS: +2 PER LEVEL
- CLASS SKILLS UNLOCKED: LEVELS 1, 2, 5, 10, 15, 20, AND 25
- STATUS: UPGRADABLE
WARRIOR (FLEDGLING)
A MELEE-BASED CLASS WITH BALANCED ACCESS TO BOTH WEAPONS AND ARMOR. THE WARRIOR IS A FOUNDATION FOR MASTERING VARIOUS FIGHTING STYLES AND FORMS. WHERE WILL THE PATH LEAD?
- STAT BONUSES: STRENGTH +1, VITALITY +1, DEXTERITY +1 PER LEVEL
- FREE POINTS: +3 PER LEVEL
- CLASS SKILLS UNLOCKED: LEVELS 1, 2, 5, 10, 15, 20, AND 25
- STATUS: UPGRADABLE
PRIEST (FLEDGLING)
A FAITH-BASED CLASS THAT BEGINS WITHOUT AN ASSIGNED DEITY OR DOCTRINE. FOCUSED ON LEADERSHIP, INFLUENCE, AND MORAL GUIDANCE, PRIESTS GAIN ADDITIONAL EXPERIENCE THROUGH INTERACTIONS WITH OTHERS. HOW WILL THEY LEAD?
- STAT BONUSES: CHARISMA +1, PERSONALITY +1, ALLURE +1 PER LEVEL
- FREE POINTS: +3 PER LEVEL
- CLASS SKILLS UNLOCKED: LEVELS 1, 2, 5, 10, 15, 20, AND 25
- STATUS: UPGRADABLE
ARCHER (FLEDGLING)
A RANGED COMBAT CLASS, ARCHERS SPECIALIZE IN DISTANCE-BASED TECHNIQUES. THEY BEGIN WITH BALANCED APTITUDE IN RANGED WEAPONS AND EXCEL IN AGILITY AND PERCEPTION. MAY THE HUNT BEGIN.
- STAT BONUSES: DEXTERITY +2, WISDOM +2 PER LEVEL
- FREE POINTS: +2 PER LEVEL
- CLASS SKILLS UNLOCKED: LEVELS 1, 2, 5, 10, 15, 20, AND 25
- STATUS: UPGRADABLE
These were the class options.
Bob stood frozen, mind racing.
Really? A Class? Is this a game? D&D maybe?
Bob’s thoughts stretched on and on. Just like before, time in the void didn’t follow natural laws. Minutes stretched into hours inside his thoughts. Years seemed to pass in heart beats.
Finally gaining some control. Bob’s mind tried to make sense of what was happening. He focused on words he had seen previously: Stats Assigned.
Do I have a stat sheet? This thought caused a new cluster of text to appear next to the other five clusters in the void.
NAME: BOB MERRICK
RACE: HUMAN
CLASS: UNASSIGNED
LEVEL: 0
ATTRIBUTES
BODY — 9.0 (PHYSICAL PROWESS)
- STRENGTH (STR): 8
- VITALITY (VIT): 12
- DEXTERITY (DEX): 7
MIND — 9.7 (COGNITIVE CAPACITY)
- INTELLIGENCE (INT): 14
- WISDOM (WIS): 9
- COMPREHENSION (CMP): 6
SPIRIT — 7.7 (INNER RESOLVE)
- WILLPOWER (WIL): 11
- INSPIRATION (INP): 5
- INTUITION (INTU): 7
AURA — 12.7 (SOCIAL PRESENCE)
- CHARISMA (CHA): 15
- PERSONALITY (PRS): 13
- ALLURE (ALR): 10
TITLES
- NONE
QUESTS
- NONE
SKILLS
- NONE
Bob stared at the glowing text hovering in front of him. The text shimmered softly in the white silence.
Hallucination? Migraine-induced delusion? This is really D&D.
Bob couldn’t move away from the six different areas of text. The text was everywhere he looked. His mind screamed at him to make some sort of sense of the situation. Finally he started trying to understand the information floating before him.
He squinted at the numbers. “Is fifteen good?” he mumbled aloud, as if the void would answer. “Why do I have fifteen charisma?”
Not understanding some of the categories Bob fell back into his engineer training as he tried to fit his knowledge into what he was reading. He started to look at the situation like it was a problem to be solved.
CLASS SELECTION REQUIRED...
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That is the problem. Now to find the solution.”
The numbers and categories floated calmly—almost smugly—in the blank whiteness. Five panels glowed in a gentle arc around him:
CLERIC (FLEDGLING)
MAGE (FLEDGLING)
WARRIOR (FLEDGLING)
PRIEST (FLEDGLING)
ARCHER (FLEDGLING)
“Okay. What’s the objective? Why do I need a class?”
He pulled from every RPG he’d ever played—turn-based classics, a few MMOs, a couple tabletop campaigns in college. The common thread?
Survival. Contribution. Growth.
“If I believe this is like a real RPG then I'll need to stay alive,” he muttered. “Ideally, I’d want versatility and survivability.”
What’s my highest stats? Charisma, Intelligence, and Vitality.
“Charisma at fifteen. Great. I knew I was charming as hell and now have proof. Intelligence fourteen. I'll take it. Vitality twelve. So I might be tougher than I thought or maybe just stubborn?”
After squinting at each class, Bob started sorting them out aloud, like he was breaking down a site proposal.
Option 1: Cleric
Healing, support-focused, weak armor, weak offense.
Bonus to Intelligence, Wisdom, Comprehension.
"Strong support role, not flashy. Could work. But I’d be relying on others to protect me. Kinda like being the guy who designs the foundation and never gets to see the skyscraper."
Option 2: Mage
Magic, high power potential, zero physical defense.
Bonus to Intelligence, Wisdom.
"Tempting. But if this is anything like real project management, a high-power system with no support breaks under load. That’s poor structural integrity."
Option 3: Warrior
Balanced physical class. Strength-based. Not my strong suit.
Bonus to Strength, Vitality, Dexterity.
"Lowest synergy with my stats. This is like handing me a backhoe and telling me to program the traffic signals. Hard pass."
Option 4: Priest
Faith-based, influence-heavy, gains XP through guiding others.
Bonus to Charisma, Personality, Allure.
"Charisma alignment is solid. Leading others through ambiguous metaphysical logic? Less solid. Faith makes for fuzzy conditions. Not sure I’m comfortable with that lack of definition."
Option 5: Archer
Ranged combat, mobility, precision.
Bonus to Dexterity, Wisdom.
"My dexterity and wisdom are some of my worst stats. I haven’t even held a bow since scout camp. Would probably sprain my shoulder before I could draw the bow."
Bob mentally stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. Priest, Cleric and Mage align with my strengths, Charisma and Intelligence. Cleric has practical application, but weak offense. Priest leans social? Maybe diplomatic? High influence. Mage is high risk, high reward.”
He hesitated. “None seem to have high survivability solo so I’d need a group.”
“Priest might be the better strategic choice. But also the one I feel least qualified for.” He glanced at the empty void.
He ruled out Mage as he felt that Mage was too squishy. He didn’t want to die.
Bob stared at the Priest panel. “Charisma, personality... and allure? That one’s unsettling.”
Cleric called to him but was he really a support class?
Unsure if this was the best choice but confident that it was the right choice Bob held his breath and made his selection.
Please. Just be a dream.