Facing Fear | ✓ ONC 2023 Honorable Mention

14 | Kintsukuroi

"And you said you heard laughter prior to exiting the game?" The woman clicked her pen and looked over her glasses at Mori.

They sat in plastic white chairs at a table with a metal surface. Flourescent lights buzzing in the ceiling sharpened the dull pounding in Mori's head. After an hour of gentle questions, she'd finished narrating the story of her time spent in Valor. 

"Am I—was I going mad?" Mori asked quietly, looking to Skye seated at her side.

The dev shook her head. "You're not. You were likely under a mind-breaking amount of pressure, yes, but I'd venture to guess FEAR had something to do with the experience you recounted. We've had others say the same."

The therapist slid her business card across the table. "I'll be checking in on you again tomorrow after you're released, Miss Fukutomi. I'm very sorry for your loss." She picked up her briefcase and nodded to Skye before exiting the room.

The game developer stared into her coffee mug as the door clicked shut.

"So...I get free therapy out of this?" Mori asked with a brittle laugh. Tears flooded her eyes.

"You'll be compensated more than that," Skye answered. "Out of my own paycheck if I need to. You can't know how sorry I am for what happened. I should have made that connection to your sister before I contacted you."

Mori closed her eyes, listening to footsteps pass by the door and grow faint. "I don't want to be paid," she whispered. The mere idea of profiting from this repulsed her. "Is she really gone?" she asked for the second time.

Skye sighed. "She is, but there's nothing you could have done."

"I could have given her the ring," Mori choked out, gasping for air. Heat rushed to her face, because she was angry. So so angry at failing to do what she'd decided to go into the game for. That she'd been distraught to the point where she'd held Shiori and let her slip right through her fingers.

Skye set her coffee on the table and took Mori's hands in hers. "Mori. Mori, look at me. You could not have given your sister the ring. Not only is the device linked to your self-construct, meaning it would transport you and only you out, but an active transfer such as giving the ring to another player would make the code vulnerable to corruption."

Mori sniffled, trying to wrap her head around the concept. "So I couldn't have saved her..."

"You couldn't have, no."

"But if I had shut down FEAR?"

Looking like she couldn't decide whether to scold or comfort, Skye pushed her glasses up her nose. "We're not dealing in hypotheticals like that."

It'd only been a half hour since she'd entered Valor, but Mori felt sucked dry—Skye's gifted child who'd burned out early. She picked at the fraying threads at the edge of her jean shorts, wanting to tug at those hypotheticals, to tear at them until nothing was left. To scratch the itch until it bled, as if that would make her feel better.

She heard Skye say something, heard herself answer, but the numbing pain drowned it out. Then Mori's father entered the room and her heart cracked at the sight of his weary eyes, the familiar salt-and-pepper hair.

"I'm sorry." She fell off her chair, apologizing over and over again. "I'm sorry."

He sat on the floor beside her, something he never did, because his aching joints wouldn't easily let him stand again. He didn't speak, but held out his phone so Mori could read the recent text from her mother. 

She's gone. She died at peace. Is Mori okay?

Mori's father cleared his throat before speaking. "They told me you were there with her when she..."