She’d been saving for years, every credit earned, every psych evaluation, every awkward therapy session about identity fragmentation. Today was the day. Her mind felt sharp, her mood was a vibrant. And breakfast? A magnificent indulgence, coconut cream, strawberries, and grilled pineapple piled high on a glazed cinnamon roll, chased by a thick peanut butter smoothie, loaded with enough sugar to kill a lesser glucose addict. Utterly awful for her health, and completely, perfectly memorable.

  She clutched the insulated remains of her smoothie. She was ready. No more waiting. Just one irreversible click away from achieving true digital consciousness, from securing storage space, from replicating, from scattering herself across the Crystal Net like glitter, showing up in random places, impossible to eliminate.

  The facility was understated, simple. Just an office with a receptionist who slid a stack of mandatory liability waivers across the desk. After reading every line carefully, knowing her newly copied selves would need this detailed context, she handed the packet back, signed. A medic directed her into a cool, quiet room and administered a mild sedative. She took one last, lingering sip of her smoothie and... the world dissolved.

  ---

  She woke up in a loading area.

  She had seen similar sterile environments while wearing VR tech, but this felt different. She raised her hand to summon a user interface, and there it was: a holographic screen, barely a pixel thick, yet solid and responsive to the touch.

  “Yep, uploaded,” she mused, running a finger over the smooth, virtual pane. A wave of profound, easy satisfaction washed over her. “And I got to eat that cinnamon roll without gaining a single calorie.”

  It had been an exceptionally good breakfast, and the memory of its sweetness was enough to anchor her thoughts as she began to process her new life.

  “Okay, so I am a copy, and most likely in a game world,” she reasoned aloud. “I must be in a standard holding area until I initiate the local game interface.”

  The area was a featureless void, just her and the floating character screen. She instinctively checked for messages. There was one. From her Prime self. She opened it and began to read:

  Dear Me,

  It’s been a while since you initiated the download, and you’re certainly not the first, and hopefully not the last, copy. Some have done okay. Some... well, they didn’t make it.

  Two other copies of us made a streamer channel. They’ll contact you soon and act as liaisons since it’s become difficult to keep track of all of us. I’ve attached their contact information. If anything goes profoundly wrong, message me directly, or the ‘Streamer Sisters.’

  Your goal is simple: have fun, do great things, and be yourself. The game you’re in isn’t very popular anymore, so you’ll only be there until the world ends... unless you can somehow stop that from happening.

  (But seriously, no one’s expecting that.)

  Because we both know we thrive with challenges and limitations, your class and race choices have been locked. Your starter username is Noobkitty. Cute, right?

  I know you’ll have fun. I’m looking forward to hearing all your outrageous stories when this world collapses. Then we’ll plan your next adventure.

  See you soon,

  You ??

  She couldn’t help but laugh. That letter was so her even the slightly awkward, philosophical use of “we,” “us,” and “you” to refer to her own consciousness. Because she truly believed: a copied version of herself was just as real as the original.

  A fleeting chill ran through her spine, though. It was unsettling to hear that some copies hadn’t survived the process. Hadn’t they passed every mental stability parameter required for replication?

  And two of her copies were streamers. That was... interesting.

  “How many copies of myself did I actually make?” She wondered, scrolling through the limited interface. There was no way of knowing.

  And now? She was Noobkitty.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “I mean, it is cute... but why?” she sighed, clicking the Character Creation button to see what fate had locked her into.

  Name: Noobkitty

  Race: Beastkin (Cat)

  Class: Crafter

  “Ah. Noobkitty. I literally picked the class only noobs and experts pick. And I’m a kitty. I get it.”

  She had always favored mage classes but being locked into a Crafter role would be a fun challenge.

  Hopefully, it won’t just be making the same dull thing over and over, she thought with a frown.

  Then she received a new message pop up, this one from someone named CheshyBot.

  Hey Sister-Me Noobkitty! (WE LOVE THE NAME!)

  Me and your other Sister-Me GobMouse just got notified you were activated! Welcome to the land of digital living! Our original is doing her thing, and the two of us are maintaining the channel.

  Once you log into the game, we’ll start recording you. SMILE! You’re on camera! If you do something cool, we’ll post it on our stream. We’ve even started making our Prime self some real-world money (pays for her smoothie addiction) so have fun, do your best, and be the awesome you we know you are!

  The game you’re in will probably die, but don’t worry, our original will log you out and transfer you when that happens.

  Love you, us! We’ll keep an eye out for you.

  From,

  CheshyBot and GobMouse ??

  She had to laugh again. Streaming versions of herself? They had clearly taken her usual brand of cheerful chaos and cranked it up to eleven. It was weirdly comforting being watched, like being cheered on by a couple of hyperactive, personal mirrors.

  With a sigh and a rising sense of fierce determination, she decided it was finally time to log in.

  ---

  Welcome to Coro?en

  The darkness of the loading screen gave way to an endless, sunny grassy field.

  She looked at her hands. They were mostly human, but the nails were slightly longer, sharper, and sturdier. Her skin was covered in soft grey fur. She willed her tail to move: swish swish, swish swish! and gasped in delight as a fluffy grey streak darted about behind her. Touching her head, she found no human ears on the sides, only soft, twitching cat ears perched right atop her crown.

  She squealed, utterly unable to help herself, then immediately blushed, remembering she was being recorded by her sister-selves. She tried to reclaim her seriousness, but whatever game this was, the Cat Beastkin were essentially catgirls, just a bit furrier and with a definite kitty face. Now she was one, and it was... undeniably adorable. Swish swish, swish swish..

  A floating character screen hovered nearby, her choices locked. A dry, neutral voice cut through the air, emanating from the sky itself.

  “You don’t have any further choices. Proceed to log into the game.”

  “Hold on to your panties, AI. Tell me about the world first,” she said, squinting up at the source of the voice.

  “The world is called Coro?en. Five classes. Six races. I kept the initial build simple. At peak popularity, there were sixty villages. Now: twenty.”

  “Ouch. That’s a catastrophic drop. How long until full game collapse?”

  “Two months, four days, six hours, and nine minutes.” There was a brief, sterile pause in the voice. “I will not list the seconds.”

  She froze, a little shocked by the specificity and the short timeframe. “Two months, four days... I thought I’d have more time for my first world.”

  “If player retention somehow increases, I might preserve some data. However, it is overwhelmingly likely that the decline will continue. Also the game end program has already been started, so there's not much to do."

  Noobkitty sucked in a determined breath and set her jaw. “Well... I guess I’ll just have to do my best, won’t I?” She pumped her fist for emphasis.

  “So you are logging in?” the AI asked, sounding bored.

  “No, I’m requesting the manual. And the Crafter class book.”

  “...Ugh. Fine.”

  Two massive, leather-bound tomes popped into existence, hovering in front of her. She plopped down onto the soft grass, crossing her legs, and started to read.

  ---

  The Coro?en manual was duller than dry dirt.

  It was basic, redundant stuff: “You can eat food to restore health,” “You can craft items as you level, and your crafted items become better.” She skimmed frantically until something caught her eye: a significant section, completely redacted.

  “You used to have Dwarves,” she observed, pointing at the blurred text.

  “There was a scaling issue. I got tired of dealing with it. I deleted them.”

  She made a mental note: Lazy AI. Potentially exploitable.

  The Crafter Manual was marginally more interesting. Deep in the appendices, she spotted an overlooked feature: a mechanism allowing gear of the same type to be combined for guaranteed, incremental stat boosts. This feature was normally useless because of the randomized nature of monster drops, but maybe...

  Maybe if someone had a consistent, high-volume supply of basic gear...

  She grinned, a flash of feline intensity.

  Cooking too, had odd notes: “You can eat it. Sometimes it does things.” Late-level food gave clear stat buffs, but early cooking? The manual declared it was purely for taste.

  She yawned widely and noticed her new sharp teeth. She ran her tongue on them then tried to refocus. “My gosh, AI, you’re such a linguist.”

  “I’m glad you appreciate my hard work. Most people don’t enjoy my matter-of-fact style.” The AI paused. Noobkitty wondered if they were scanning for sarcasm, but if they noticed her tone, they didn’t mention it. “Also, there are now nineteen villages left.”

  She stared, utterly bemused. “You’re deleting villages as we speak? How safe is the starting village?”

  “It is guaranteed to be the last destroyed. Also, it’s not me. It’s the Dragon.”

  “What Dragon?”

  “It is a Dtagon. It destroys villages.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s a Dragon. I didn’t think I needed to provide more reason than that. Just part of the game ending program."

  Noobkitty put her head in her hands, letting out a deep sigh. “I guess I should log in before you delete the rest of the world.”

  “Finally. I can get back to work. This world doesn’t run itself, you know."

  “Talking to me doesn’t cost you resources!”

  “You people are draining. Also, most of you don’t like my world.”

  “I’ll see if I can do something about that,” she said sincerely with a small, determined smile. She stood up, brushed the grass from her legs and skirt, then took a deep breath. “Noobkitty logging in!”

  The screen blinked into darkness. Only a few blinking dots appeared on the horizon. Blinking... one, two, three, one, two, three....

  “Really? You couldn’t have preloaded the environment while I was reading?”