Azem in Viduus
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There is darkness, and quiet, and the deepest of all possible slumbers. No dreams paint color onto the mind of their host, and no nightmares haunt their steps. There is no sense of time, or joy, or pain. There is nothing at all.

Then, there is not.

It is a slow process, like the first gentle drops of rain on a once-still pond. Like something large and entrenched being pulled from sticky mud. Flickers of almost-conscious thought that slowly coalesce into something more. Thoughts follow, slow and clumsy at first, but compounding on each other and growing more and more complex as the mind that owns them is forcefully dragged to the waking world. The process is not painful or unkind, but it could still be described as a little grating, all the same. Oblivion is not comforting, but it could be described as comfortable.

Then there is a mind, alone in a dark abyss. There is nothing to keep it company but the nothing, and the unsettling feeling that something is very wrong.

Words appear. It's not clear what format they come from. They're not spoken, or written, they just... are. Like they were dreamed from the mind that perceives them, but for how strange and mechanical and foreign they are.

>>> Awakening process complete. Please stand by for diagnostic.

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What the fuck, is the awakening mind's only thought at that.

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The strange mechanical voice doesn't answer him.

>>> Diagnostic complete, all systems within accepted parameters. Good morning, Mr. Orland. Would you like to enter your personal virtual reality simulation?

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My what.

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>>> Your personal virtual reality simulation is your very own personal simulated world, complete with a simulated copy of your body. Most users find simulated reality more comfortable.

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Sure, why don't we go with that. Also, a name, do I have one? I feel like I should have one. You called me Mr. Orland.

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>>> You are James Orland, CEO of Dracarian Industries. Please stand by for simulation.

There is a strange sort of fizzling sensation at the edge of his mind, and then the feeling of falling, fallingspinningfalling...

... And then all at once, it stops. He is still and settled. Instead of nothing, he feels the weight of his limbs, and something soft beneath him. Air flows through his nose and into his lungs. His skin feels faintly warm, but only in certain places, like something is warming it.

He might realize that he has eyes now. If he so chooses, he can even open them.

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James Orland. Yeah, that's his name, he recognizes it. Somehow.

It takes a bit, but eventually he does open his eyes and looks around. This place... is also familiar. "Where am I?"

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He's in a large and comfortable bed, in a large and comfortable penthouse. Both look rather aggressively expensive, though it's not obvious how he knows that. Warm sunlight cascades through large windows that look out on a beautiful city skyline.

"You are in a stable orbit around the fourth planet from the sun designated F5V-692370162-49335-7B," says a voice to his left. There, a small robot hovers over the bed. Its sleek white frame gives no indication of any kind of expression, or face.

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"I what."

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"The phylactery containing your mind and soul is attached to a satellite, and is currently in orbit of the fourth planet of the star F5V-692370162-49335-7B."

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"Bwuh?" Phylactery, that's, that's familiar. But all of this—why is he even surprised? It's not like he had any idea of anywhere else he could be, other than the orbit of whatever.

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"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand your question. Could you elaborate on 'bwuh'?"

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"No, not really. What place's being—simulated, here?"

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"According to your records, you based it on your penthouse in Dubai, with some modifications."

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"Okay... And why are we in orbit around wherever?"

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"Because planet 4-692370162-49335-7B's Alpha Base suffered irreparable structural damage when the nuclear reactor suffered several critical malfunctions, and detonated."

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"Okay, assume I don't know anything about who or where I am or why I'm here or what has happened. Can you explain it all to me?"

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"Okay. I can try. Please stand by, I am processing your request." There is a very brief pause.

"You were human, and lived on a planet called Earth, in orbit around the star, Sol. With inadvisable application of magic, other humans caused the solar system's star to experience a critical malfunction, and it ceased releasing most kinds of electromagnetic radiation. Most forms of life on Earth found it aversive, frequently fatally. There were multiple efforts to preserve life on Earth through a variety of approaches, but as of last recorded contact, no efforts to fix the star were successful. Other attempts are possible, but impossible to accurately calculate the success of from our current distance. Would you like to take a moment to mourn your doomed home world?"

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"Nah, I don't remember anything. Continue, please."

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"Very well. One of the efforts to preserve humanity was the Interstellar Rebirth Initiative, colloquially known as 'IRI'. The goal of the mission was to find another solar system within human tolerances for life, and start anew. However, the space between solar systems is large and inhospitable enough that keeping ordinary humans alive for the journey is impractical. Instead, it was decided that it would be more efficient to rip out the souls of the participants, and store them in phylacteries for transport. Upon arrival, all participants would be woken up and eventually put into newly created bodies. From there, they would rebuild humanity. You helped fund, and then participated in this mission."

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"...I see. And the reason I don't remember any of this?"

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"Limited data available. In the Sol system, some subjects of soul removal experienced confusion and temporary memory loss. All recorded participants in IRI have expressed similar symptoms. It could be the length of time spent dormant, or insufficient shielding against harmful forms of radiation during the long voyage, or something else. For more accurate speculation, please contact a soul specialist."

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"And... is there a soul specialist with their memories intact anywhere around here?"

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"Chances minuscule. All recorded awakened members of IRI have reported near total loss of memory."

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"...any soul specialists who kept very good notes?"

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