"kevlar": "a heat-resistant and strong synthetic fiber"

"boob": "a stupid, awkward person", "mistake, blunder", "goof", "breast"

Husband and I are sitting in a coffee shop across the street from Flying Tigers. We are not drinking coffee in this coffee shop. Husband is drinking earl grey tea and I am drinking jade citrus mint tea. It is better than coerthas tea but not quite as good as shroud tea. I wonder how the namazu would rate it.

He has been here for hours, watching the fight classes. I came with him here, but did not stay long. I told him I would explore Tulsa. I meant I would explore a certain part of it, where we had been before.

It was not hard to find. I have not yet been to many places in Tulsa, so my journal map showed where our first visit had been. I recognized shops I had seen before and followed them to what Husband had called an "e-sports center".

There was a young man, or perhaps an older boy, at a desk at the front. He looked up from his computer. "Welcome to Player One. How can I help you?"

"I would like to play Final Fantasy Fourteen."

"Sure, we have that here. Though, you know, Endwalker hasn't come out yet, so we're on Shadowbringers."

"What is Endwalker?"

"Latest expac. You didn't know about it? It was supposed to be out by now, but now Yoshi's talking Christmas."

"Shadowbringers will be fine."

"Cool. How many hours?"

There was a sign on the wall behind him that showed how many dollars for how many hours. I paid for two hours. He gave me a card and the number of the computer I should use.

The computer had a payment card reader beside it. I put in the card I had been given and the computer screen lit up. I saw "FFXIV" among the icons and selected it. At the login screen I put in the ID and password I remembered Husband using.

I put on the headphones around my beret in time for the blast of music that came with the white screen. I did not notice the first time I saw it with Husband that it said "Shadowbringers". Perhaps it referred to our time as the Warriors of Darkness.

I clicked on the word "Start". I looked at the version of me on the screen.

I thought about why I was there.

I have thought about the game every day since first seeing it weeks ago. I have tried to reconcile my knowledge of my world with the existence of this game. I have tried to both imagine and not think about what Husband had referred to as "supervising" me, which to him would have meant moving me hither and yon in the game.

If the game was my world, I needed to know. If the game was not my world, I needed to know.

I stared at myself on the screen.

I clicked "New Character".

The first picture to appear was of a male hyur. Husband had picked a female miqo'te because he wanted his character to be attractive for him. Perhaps I could have made a character that looked like him so that it was attractive to me. But I was not there to play and have fun. I was there to learn.

I looked at the different races, different genders, different factions. In the end I made a female miqo'te gladiator. The hairstyle that appeared was like the flowing style I wore when I first arrived in Limsa, before I changed to the far more practical tails and braid.

The game asked me for a name. I did not want to use my own, since this was not me. But I knew little of miqo'te names; my name is from my adoptive hyur parents, who also knew little of miqo'te names. I knew M'Naago, a Seeker of the Sun, and the Aliapoh sisters, Zhloe and Khloe, Keepers of the Moon, and how my name did not resemble either.

There was a Randomize button. After a few clicks I picked "Wyra Amariyo". I was told that name could not be used. I tried another, and another, and another. The miqo'te on the screen would sigh and shake her head each time; perhaps she was as discouraged as I felt.

I grew weary of this after trying twenty times. I could not think of a name. I tried typing "Forename Surname", but that did not work either.

I finally googled miqo'te names on my phone. I found a page that would make different random names. I selected "Rika Sistei". Rika jumped for joy when the game accepted that name.

Then she was dropped into the void.

I had thought it was a dream when it happened to me, finding myself surrounded by darkness with Hydaelyn's voice saying "Hear...feel...think." I had woken up on a ship with the old bearded hyur, Brandt, checking on me. And there Rika was experiencing the same thing. Though she woke on a wagon instead, as she was headed to Ul'dah.

I did not think overmuch about Husband having experienced the same thing when he came to my world. I simply thought Hydaelyn had decided she needed another Warrior of Light. But now this Rika, my character, was having the same experience. As would anyone who created a character in this game, since anyone who played it would be wanting the experience.

But in my world there were only the two of us, only two Warriors of Light. If anyone could create one, how many were in this game?

I could not explore Ul'dah until I had seen several messages, about how to move, how to talk to people, how to accept "quests". After Rika had registered at the Adventurer's Guild and the Gladiator's Guild and visited the marketplace, she was free to see the city.

The city seemed so small. Ul'dah is large, with many passages, many shops, many places crowded and quiet. It could take hours to walk around the city and see everything. But Rika did not walk. She ran everywhere, even inside buildings. She went practically everywhere in that Ul'dah in perhaps ten minutes.

And yet it was crowded. Several people around the aetheryte. Several people in each guild hall. A large crowd in the marketplace, clustered around the summoning bell and the market board and scattered around in the street crafting. There was the sound of chatter and laughter and cries.

It took some time to realize that the sound was not coming from the people. Few of them were facing each other, and none of them were working their mouths. One was playing an instrument badly, which added to the noise, but none seemed to be speaking or laughing or crying. I concluded the sound was coming from the game, along with the constant music. I was more sure of this when I noticed some of the sounds repeated every so often, a particular laugh, a particular cry.

I wondered why all these people were together if they were not acting together. In this place, in this world, in this game.

Then a new message appeared. "Welcome to the Novice Network!" I clicked the button to join and something new appeared on my screen in the corner, saying I had accepted an invitation to join the Novice Network, where new players could ask questions of mentors.

Then the text began.

     [NOVICE] Ardent Grove: Welcome Rika! Hope you're having fun! Let us know if you need any help.

There was a blank bar under the text. I clicked on it and got a cursor. I typed a message of my own.

     [NOVICE] Rika Sistei: Thank you.

More text appeared after that. It scrolled by quickly, almost faster than I could read.

     [NOVICE] Velvet Kitty: any1 doing ifrit xtreme?

     [NOVICE] Weeb Monger: is there a dyeable version of the Dhalmelskin Thighboots?

     [NOVICE] Mimi Joe: whats the best tank class to start hw with?

     [NOVICE] Ardent Grove: Might as well try DRK. It's right there when you come in.

That was talking. That was people communicating. Not the babble I was hearing in the street. The text before me was people. But the text was not being made by the people I saw on the screen. It was from the fingers of players typing on their computers, wherever they were. Which were not people on the screen. As I was not Rika. Rika was standing there doing nothing while I communicated with people.

This answered my question. More than any of Husband's assurances and explanations, this answered my question. My world did not have this. It did not have all these silent yet noisy people crowding the streets, running around or crafting things or making bad music. It did not have people who spoke with each other by typing regardless of where they were.

This was not my world.

And whatever person Husband had running around in this world was not a real person, and was certainly not me. It was another picture or statue or "character", just like Rika. Who was also not me.

I am content with this observation.

More text appeared, though this was in purple.

     Mini Muffins >> hey. nice toon.

     [NOVICE] Rika Sistei: Someone just spoke to me in purple. What does that mean?

     [NOVICE] Ardent Grove: That's a private tell. You can respond to it using /r.

     >> Mini Muffins: Toon?

     Mini Muffins >> character. i like you didnt go wild with the boob slider.

     >> Mini Muffins: What is a boob slider?

     Mini Muffins >> the slider bar in chargen under bust size. changes the chest shape.

     >> Mini Muffins: I did not see that.

     Mini Muffins >> oh ok. thought it was a choice. lotta guys go nuts with it. if there was a butt slider theyd probly do that too.

     >> Mini Muffins: There is no butt slider?

     Mini Muffins >> nah, people been asking for it for years but devs keep saying its too hard. i think its just sexism cuz if they put it in people would use it for guys too.

I found out how to log out and returned to the character selection screen. I started creating another character, another female, and this time looked at the boob slider under Bust Size, as well as the face shape, the tail length, the skin and hair and eye colors and other things.

Husband had played this game. He created a character, a female miqo'te that looked like me, because he wanted an attractive character. And then he crossed what he calls the multiverse to find me. Or, he crossed the multiverse to find someone who looked like me. Who looked like his character.

Had I been what he was looking for?

I type this as I sit in the coffee shop where we are not drinking coffee, where we are planning the best time to frighten a barefoot man wearing white in his own school.

I look up at Husband. He notices the motion and meets my eyes. He smiles.

I ask him if he knows what a butt slider is. He tells me of kevlar. We have yet another project. Perhaps he also does not know what a boob slider is.

Whether or not I was who he was looking for, I am who he found. I am who he married. I am who he holds at night.

I am content with this observation.