Falling Girls
Tiara snored. Dororong… Dororong… It wasn't that loud. After hustling all day yesterday, a little snoring was only natural. Dorothy thought it was kinda cute, actually.
“Uuum….”
From Tiara's adorable sleep grumble, Dorothy barely turned her head. She quietly slipped out of her seat so as not to wake the sleeping girl and headed outside. Even with the tower's massive core humming a noisy uuuung-.
As she neared the door, faint motor whirs mixed into the whooshing wind. The gang's drones had been circling the area nonstop since earlier.
“Bad guys….”
She'd felt their vicious malice from the moment they stepped out of the pod. These bastards would chase them relentlessly until she died—or until they reached the City.
If only we could've gone slow together…
Dorothy puffed her cheeks, then remembered Tiara—who'd stroke her head—was asleep. She tried patting her own head eutchacha… but… nope, not the same.
Kiiik-! She shoved open the inner door. The fierce wind tousled Dorothy's fiery red hair.
It's okay. Tiara'll fix it.
Even if she rolled in dust, wailed pathetically, threw tantrums, got bullied by kids, or got wrongly accused of spreading filthy infections…
Tiara'll smile at me.
Even if she got dirty, it was fine. Her pale cheeks quivered in the wind. The resolute girl veiled the fire in her pupils with long lashes. Peering below with half-lidded eyes, she spotted the bug swarm kicking up dust—for just two prey.
Enemy. Greed. Lust. Dorothy squeezed her eyes shut at their mass-game display of filth. And remembered. The feel of flesh tearing. The mercy-begging wails. Her own footsteps fleeing like a coward. The tiny hand that hugged tight her pathetic self—who couldn't become wolf or hound from fear of violence. Tiara's pained face raising her gun to secure the last escape pod. And Tiara, returning with bloodstains not hers smeared on her dress. The princess atop the spire, cradling the sea's light. Dorothy etched deep in her heart the princess who bled for her, who clenched fists for her. Miraculously, the trembling stopped.
Even if I lose memories, it's fine. My body'll remember Tiara.
The black solution soaked into her skin—the memory storage solvent—coursed through Dorothy's body.
“Haa….”
Dorothy clenched and unclenched her fists, sensing with skin, eyes, ears, tongue the force field's strength and direction prickling around her. The insane computational load—even a genius Netdiver's brain couldn't handle—crushed her skull. But Dorothy kept calm deep breaths. Not her head. Her body. Wielding the core with habit, not math. Hackers would cough blood yelling “Does that even make sense?!” But to rare monsters like Black Ops, it was routine. Ah, gloomy hackers (except Tiara) wouldn't get it. A core wasn't just a tool. Like warrior with blade, smith with hammer, mother cradling child. Embrace it as one flesh yet not—one precious being.
The gravity field buoyed Dorothy's body light. Tiara would've quipped solo, “Looks basic, but levitation, high-speed dash, barrier. Three-function combo!”
Perfect timing—Dorothy was thinking of Tiara. Glancing back through whipping red locks to where she lay. Then Dorothy tilted slowly out the tower. The bug horde pointed fingers at her plummeting form. Dorothy fell. Girl to wolf. Long ago. But with gentle hands to pet her, dog was doable.
“Tiara, since we're late anyway… don't come too quick?”
Dorothy muttered. I don't wanna show Tiara this side.
Bullets rained on ground-nearing Dorothy. Not one grazed. Expert force field hug minimized hit zone, cut compute drain. Leagues beyond hackers groping foreign cores. Tiara'd puff cheeks hearing it… but oh well. Dorothy's comfort zone.
Tiara found this type and gave it to me.
Even Dorothy never dreamed Tiara rewove starlight threads into the core.
…Not the point now.
“Eek…! Eeeeek…! Dodge! It's comiiing!”
Dorothy refisted when bug faces twisted in horror. Gravity-sync force field pulped those underfoot. Amid gorgeous dust spray, little wolf's red eyes gleamed.
“Fuck…!”
Bang! Bang! Bang! I pounded the window. No escape from this studio hell.
“Haa… haa….”
Bathroom vent, window—nothing viable. Duh. All interior decor. My “home”—My Room.
“Haa… haa….”
Flopped exhausted on bed; familiar comfort wrapped me. Instinct screamed.
“Fuck…. Fuuuuck….”
Couldn't leave 'cause I didn't want to. Convinced myself this chick body and dystopian cyberpunk shit was unbearable.
“No…. Gotta hit City… with Dorothy.”
Then what? Two girls gonna do jack?
My Room's true owner prodded. Clutching pounding head, I blurted.
“I'm Netdiver, Dorothy's Black Ops… together….”
So? Stack credits forever in that bod? Kill-or-die dystopia? Bet Dorothy won't betray…
“Argh, shut it.”
Sprung up, headbutted window—unshattered. Laptop, chair floor-glued. All mind props, not real objects. My psyche's backdrop.
“Right….”
Fake. Background dissonance hardened resolve. Nothing budged. Except one spot. Grabbed front handle.
“Outta here…!”
> This Netdiver is banned from Outernet community access.
Outernet whatever—escape this shoebox first. Even as Kang Tae-oh, this dump rotted me to death. No way. Dorothy flashed. Promise to invite her. Never.Never show this.
Squeeze…! Yanked handle hard. If blocks persist, hack through…!
That instant, translucent status flipped before eyes.
> This Netdiver is ban…
[Error][Error][Error]
> Not the corresponding entity.
> Enter Outernet?
[Y/N]
Really bailing? Here? Easiest death spot…
“Yes.”
Door flew open.
“Ugh, fuck. Jump scare.”
Opened—huge blob whooshed past. Bubble…! Blubblubblub…!
“What the…”
Direct to ocean. Mass-spat bubbles popped. Bubbles sank; blue depths in spectrum shades flooded view. Like popping sub hatch, zero issue.
Splash. Hand met faint resistance. Unlike VR-obvious My Room, tactile and briny scent hit real.
Wait—Outernet legit info “ocean”? Metaphor, right?
Game PVP lobbies had similar flair, yeah. Scary af to dive tho. Bit more rest…
“Go time.”
No rest. Dorothy waits. Held breath, plunged rippling sea.
> Outernet is outside City government jurisdiction.
Swatted final status nag—surface before drowning…!
“Eh.”
Flailing fake swim, clocked weirdness, froze. Breathing fine, vision crisp. Water drag negligible. Ocean-skinned space?
“Ah- ah-.”
Gas-liquid medium shift barely there. Voice—no gurgle, no skull echo.
“Whoa, wild….”
Checked limbs, tested voice, acclimating—felt sole contact.
“Ah, floor here.”
Glass-hard transparent pane sliced sea horizontal. Hard stomps? Held firm, blocked deeper sink.
“Cool. Test compute boost, surface stat.”
Bounded, sprinted—probed athletics, skills.
“Ah, hiss… barely bumped.”
2-pyeong box. Too cramped for combat sims juicing flops. Lip-smack regret eyeing surface—twinkles near top.
“Ah? Uh uh…?”
One-two stars rapid-spawned. 40, 100, 500, 1000… Beat lab starshow at first Netdiver catalyst awakening. Eyes rapid-counted estimate.
Hmm. New trick. My Room compute buff confirmed. ~5k stars. Numbers meh, sight vertigo. Stars carpeted vision.
“Uwaaa….”
~2500 naked-eye stars max, heard. Double flash-fest.
Star-gazing daze—tiny ear-voice.
“Huh?”
Voices star-multiplied. Wait—each star a person?
“Nuaaaak…!”
Skull throbbed. Ear-whispers jumbled—gibberish.
Smack…! Massive star underfoot flashed. Translucent pane popped before pained me.
This entity lacks necessary security core. Please refrain from access.
Sick of these pricks.
Providing basic UI.
“Haaak… haak…. This…”
Blocking other entities' comm packets. Receiving indirect messages.
Ear racket faded; familiar UI bloomed bottom-left. Game-dev eye-candy: chat window…? Head-throb voices → scrolling text. Reflex eyescanned flood. Oddly caring status pinged too.
Touch specific My Room part to exit Outernet.
This place still dangerous for you—ignore all messages.
“Wait! Hey!”
Last status + fading underfoot mega-star—like “that's all”—I snagged via brain lightning.
Plan A: Drag fight-phobic Dorothy, no rest guarantee. We're beat. That state? Dorothy's black solvent. Bug-gang horde. Faroff City. No easy fixes.
Thus, 2-pyeong-tumble “Kang Tae-oh” brain spat three-bird plan.
Chat spam. Recalled PVP/Outernet funcs…. Endure lil shame…!
Question. What's up?
Jackpot—status star reacted. Godmode auth (UI gift, chat block)… could hook me up.
… …
“Possible?”
… Possible.
Sweet. Can't flash Dorothy this, but for her? Shameplay.
Bait stale; Outernet hushed quick.
Nah, thought so. Till sea-hair girl respawned Outernet core.
“Hi everyone! Newbie reporting!”
Mercs, hackers, mechs—City pillars swapped intel… or brawled in sleepy hood. Outernet dopamine-boiled.