16
I EXPECTED BRIGHT lights and fireworks. Instead, I stood in the same bland jack-in room I was supposed to have left. Joon must have messed it up. I turned to tell him so and stopped. Gibson was gone. So was Joon. In his place was an androgynous warrior. Neither clearly male or female, it was muscled like a prize sprinter—cheetah and human rolled into one. Metallic, rainbow tattoos swirled up each of its arms and the sides of its neck. I recognized traces of Joon’s features in the face. Broad forehead, high cheekbones, prominent jawline, but he wasn’t distinctly Korean or any ethnicity. Silver hair framed everything perfectly. My knowledge of who was driving the avatar formed the It into a Him. Strange how our minds do that, need to do it sometimes—put people in boxes so we can feel the
