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David Christopher Lane, Ph.D, is a Professor of Philosophy at Mt. San Antonio College and Founder of the MSAC Philosophy Group. He is the author of several books, including The Sound Current Tradition (Cambridge University Press, 2022) and the graphic novel, The Cult of the Seven Sages, translated into Tamil (Kannadhasan Pathippagam, 2024). His website is neuralsurfer.com

The Temptation Algorithm

An Invitation to the Unthinkable

David Lane

Preface

As improbable as the following story may initially seem, I can attest, based on my own decade-long exploration of virtual reality, that we are hurtling toward a future where the essence of this narrative could become an undeniable reality. In fact, there are moments in these augmented worlds that feel not only more vivid but more unsettlingly real than anything encountered in the "real" world. Philosopher David Chalmers, in his groundbreaking book Reality+: Virtual Worlds and the Problems of Philosophy, powerfully asserts: “Simulations are not illusions. Virtual worlds are real. Virtual objects really exist.”

A recurring phrase from my dentist and friend, Ken Howard, comes to mind every time I visited his Cardiff office: “What you feel is real.” Within the realm of virtual reality, this simple yet profound insight transforms into a broader truth: “Experiences are authentic, no matter the medium through which they arrive.” Perhaps even more resonant are the words of John Lilly, the visionary pioneer of dolphin research and sensory deprivation tanks. He famously wrote: “In the province of the mind, what one believes to be true, either is true or becomes true within certain limits. These limits are to be found experientially and experimentally. Once determined, these limits reveal further beliefs to be transcended. In the province of the mind, there are no limits.”

It's easy to overlook that the greatest virtual reality device ever devised isn't made of metal or code—it's the three-pound marvel we carry within our skulls. Our brains don't present reality in its unfiltered, infinite expanse; instead, they slice and package it into neural snapshots, allowing us to perceive only a tiny fraction of existence.

At its core, the story you're about to read isn't just a tale about virtual realities or futuristic technologies. It's a reflection on what it means to be human, a meditation on the timeless truths encoded within the Adam and Eve narrative—a story that endures not because of its literal form but because of its profound insights into the human condition.

1. Prologue: An Invitation to the Unthinkable

Abdul tapped his neural interface and opened the comm-window floating before his vision. “Game testers needed for the next immersive VR phenomenon!” read the advertisement's tagline, glowing in bold, shifting neon. The promotional graphics showed a towering opalescent gate, emblazoned with an ornate, golden door. Above it arched a futuristic half-dome sky littered with stars, circuit boards, and thick cords of data that pulsed like veins.

He had no intention of responding at first; he was too busy finishing his undergrad courses in computer engineering and helping his mother manage the small café on the outskirts of New Istanbul. But the words “Temptations of Prince Agib: Only the Worthy Shall Prevail” gnawed at him, promising both riches and secrets that lurked in the depths of an advanced virtual reality. The game, apparently, was so cutting-edge that it required direct cranial implants for full effect—only those courageous enough to link their neural pathways directly to the server had a shot at unraveling its labyrinth.

That night, lying on the worn-out sofa in his bedroom, Abdul reread the ad. Something about its archaic style and mention of Prince Agib, an old Arabian Nights figure, teased his imagination. It wasn't merely a videogame. It read like an invitation to a forbidden realm.

The next morning, he discovered his acceptance email glowing on his phone's holo-screen. “Congratulations, Beta Tester! You have been selected for an exclusive trial of The Temptations of Prince Agib… Prepare yourself for the greatest VR experience of your life.” The instructions guided him to a top-secret campus in the corporate zone. He was to arrive within 48 hours.

He almost declined. He had finals. He had family obligations. But the curiosity—no, the temptation—proved too strong. “Maybe it's just a well-funded new VR,” he told himself. “What harm could it do?” He decided to accept the offer.

2. A World of Gilded Holograms

The corporate campus soared among New Istanbul's new wave of spires—sleek, twisting glass towers etched with shimmering lines of neon code. Abdul approached the largest tower, labeled simply “M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs,” an acronym he couldn't fully decipher. Security was tight: automated drones hovered overhead, scanning each visitor. A pair of human guards, augmented by cybernetic exoskeleton suits, flanked the entrance.

He presented his offer letter. A short beep later, they ushered him inside, where a cold, pristine lobby stretched out. A synthetic female voice emanated from the ceiling: “Welcome to M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs, Abdul Al-Warith. Proceed to VR Chamber 17B.”

Following the lights, he reached a circular chamber lined with pods—sleek, coffin-like capsules wired with all manner of cables. The scent of disinfectant and ozone hung in the air. Two lab technicians in white coats greeted him.

“Good to have you, Mr. Al-Warith,” said the first technician, a petite woman with a mechanical left eye. “We're excited to see how you perform in The Temptations of Prince Agib. The game's AI intricately weaves fantasy with the user's real desires and fears.”

Abdul nodded. “Is it safe?”

The second technician, tall and stoic, replied, “Completely. In theory. However, it's the most advanced VR platform we've ever created. The hardware includes a neural-latch system—once inside, you'll be fully immersed. If at any time you need to exit, just press your wrist implant's panic button.”

He offered Abdul a thin, silvery disc. “Place this over the side of your neck. It'll interface with your neural link. Then slide into the pod.”

Abdul's heartbeat quickened. Everything felt too real, too large in scope. “So… inside the game, it'll be just me?”

“Just you—and the illusions the AI conjures,” the woman said. “Your senses will believe it's all real. Good luck.”

He laid himself in the open VR pod, pressing the disc to his neck. The interior sealed with a hiss. Darkness. A gentle hum resonated along his spine. Then, as though someone had flicked a cosmic switch, reality warped. He felt himself pulled away from the confines of the lab into an endless swirl of color, sound, and possibility.

3. The Loading Realm: Hints of Fate

Abdul blinked into a swirling twilight. No VR environment had ever felt so genuine: the breeze was crisp, carrying the scent of distant fruit trees; his footsteps crunched over something akin to fine gravel. But the ground beneath him was not earth—it was a textured grid of luminous hexagons that pulsed at every step.

He stood at the threshold of a colossal gateway. Carved into the shimmering black gates were swirling lines in Arabic script that repeated the words: Beware the red door.

Beyond the gates rose a futuristic city melding Arabian architecture with sleek, modern lines. Towers of glowing glass twisted around minarets of shining chrome. Floating neon-lamps replaced torches. Holographic banners waved with images of a crescent moon crowned by a digital star.

A voice boomed out of nowhere—deep, resonant, almost regal:

“Welcome, O traveler, to the Realms of Prince Agib. Greed and desire shall be your test. Venture forth, unlock the hundred wonders, but heed the old warnings: Open not the door of red gold, or the path to ruin awaits.”

A new message flashed before Abdul's eyes in his personal HUD:

Objective: Explore the City of Ten Thousand Gates. Acquire the Keys of Virtue. Avoid the Door of Red Gold.

“Tacky but intriguing,” he muttered, stepping inside. He could sense it: the environment was alive with an undercurrent of AI, shifting to accommodate his presence, gently nudging him toward the storyline.

4. A Meeting in the Virtual Bazaar

Abdul found himself meandering through a grand bazaar. Digital merchants hawked exotic goods—crystal orbs that glowed with swirling galaxies, black-metal armor that glistened with coded runes. The air was vibrant with voices in multiple languages, though an undercurrent of classical Arabic wove through them all.

The game's architecture was mesmerizing. Where typical VR environments had smaller “maps,” this city felt endless, sprawling. He tried calling up a menu or a map, but the interface only flickered with cryptic symbols.

“Traveler!” called an old merchant seated beside a stall of clocks. “You appear lost. Are you searching for the House of Keys?”

“House of Keys?” Abdul approached, noticing the merchant's features: half his face looked artificially aged, while his left eye was a swirling digital iris—like an advanced NPC with partial mechanical augmentation. “I'm new around here. Not sure where to go.”

The old merchant leaned forward. “'Tis the place where you must gather each of the hundred keys to unlock the ultimate reward. But beware the red door, for it seals your doom.”

Abdul frowned. “So everyone keeps saying. Why is that door off-limits?”

“Desire,” the merchant said simply, “opens that which should remain closed. Even you might succumb.”

Abdul forced a chuckle. “I'm not that greedy.”

The old merchant smiled, revealing gold filigree on his teeth. “You say that now. But we were all new once. Listen: the House of Keys stands at the far edge of the city. You'll see a spire shaped like a twisting diamond. Its facade is parted into a hundred shining doors. Ninety-nine are safe. The one of red gold is not.”

“Understood. Thanks.”

The NPC simply nodded, and as Abdul turned away, a system prompt glided across his vision:

New Objective: Reach the House of Keys. Collect the first key.

5. Approaching the House of Keys

It took an entire day-night cycle within the VR realm to locate the House of Keys. Abdul discovered that the city was brimming with illusions and side passages. He encountered mirrored corridors that led nowhere, encountered a mosaic-laced plaza full of singing automata, and navigated puzzle gates guarded by mechanical desert lions. At each juncture, a subtle sense of design synergy was apparent: the environment was not random; it was carefully structured to lure him deeper.

Finally, beyond a shimmering moat of turquoise liquid—some form of glowing data-lattice—he spied the spire the merchant had mentioned. It rose from the bedrock like a colossal needle, the entire structure glimmering with elaborate carvings. When he crossed a narrow glass bridge, the main door parted, revealing a massive central hall ringed with a hundred smaller doors. Each door glowed with a label in luminous script:

1. Door of the Caged Bird
2. Door of the Golden Oasis
3. Door of the Singing Gem
   …
4. Door of the Chrysolite Garden
5. Door of Red Gold

The final portal radiated with a mesmerizing red-gold hue, practically shimmering in the corner of Abdul's eye. “Don't do it,” he whispered to himself. The warnings echoed. He forced himself to turn toward the nearest safe door, labeled “Door of the Caged Bird.”

But the game was cunning. As soon as he locked his gaze on the red door, it almost felt like it was calling to him—an urge, a seductive hum, faint but insistent.

“No,” he said firmly. “I have ninety-nine other doors to explore first.”

6. Mystical Wonders and Growing Desire

One by one, Abdul explored door after door. Each was more astonishing than the last. Behind the first door—“Caged Bird”—he found a luminous aviary filled with mechanical phoenixes. Their feathers were jeweled metal, their eyes orbs of living flame. They sang in digital polyphony that resonated through the chamber. Hidden in the center of this aviary, he found a silver key resting on a pedestal. Engraved on the key's handle was an inscription: Desire tethers even the proudest of wings.

The second door—“Golden Oasis”—opened onto a lush desert environment replete with shimmering sands and streams that flowed with fragrant water. Towering date palms bore fruit that sparkled like precious stones. He watched digital sunlight refract off the golden dunes, marveling at the uncanny realism. There he discovered a second key at the base of a crystal statue, labeled: We thirst for that which we cannot hold forever.

Door after door contained equally enchanting places: wondrous fountains carved from starlight, arcades where rubies and emeralds hung like luminous orbs in the sky, hidden crypts that tested his logic with mind-bending puzzles. In each zone, a key awaited him, each with an inscription referencing desire, curiosity, or the fine line between caution and greed.

Days in the VR world ticked by—though in reality, perhaps only hours had passed. Yet the game's advanced neural interface made it feel entirely real. He feasted on conjured delicacies, listened to the songs of virtual minstrels, even found entire palaces where he could rest.

But with every new key claimed, that red-gold door at the edge of the hall seemed to grow in presence, humming louder, drawing his eye.

7. An Ominous Encounter: The One-Eyed Wanderers

On the fiftieth day within the VR realm, having collected half of the keys, Abdul returned to the central hall. Exhausted, he sank to the mosaic floor, scanning the ring of doors. Doors 1 through 50 now each bore a glowing icon indicating they'd been unlocked. Doors 51 onward still waited. And there in the corner, door 100, the red-gold menace, shone with mocking brilliance.

To his surprise, he was no longer alone. A cluster of figures stood by one of the unvisited doors—tall, robed men. Each had an ornate staff, and each wore a hood that concealed half his face. As Abdul drew closer, he saw that each man was missing an eye—an empty scar where the orb should have been.

“Greetings,” said their leader in a low voice, “we did not expect to see another traveler here, collecting these many keys.”

“Where did you come from?” Abdul asked, unsettled by their appearance.

The one-eyed man's lips curved in a sad smile. “We once walked the same path as you. We, too, collected door keys. We, too, believed ourselves strong enough to face temptation. But something… well…” He trailed off, tapping the scar on his face.

Abdul's heart sank. “What took your eyes?”

“Curiosity,” one of the others said. “In our thirst for knowledge, we opened that which should not have been opened.” He gestured at the red-gold door. “We thought ourselves immune—just as you probably do.”

Abdul clenched his fists. “Don't worry. I won't open it.”

“We said the same,” another hissed. “The game preys on longing. Even if you succeed in ignoring the door, there may be other perils. We are living—and maimed—proof. If you hear the door calling, remember our warning.”

The group nodded solemnly, then turned and vanished into the swirling air as though dissolving into code.

8. Warnings Unheeded

Despite the one-eyed wanderers' cautionary tale, Abdul's curiosity only magnified. He couldn't shake the sense that there was a reason the door was off-limits, that behind it lay some transcendent treasure or knowledge.

But for a time, he resisted. He continued unlocking the safer doors—exploring mesmerizing illusions and collecting each new key. Door 60, “The Garden of Infinity,” was a fractal labyrinth of blossoming vines that dissolved into shimmering digits at his touch. Door 75, “The Celestial Bathhouse,” featured polished marble chambers where warm, perfumed steam transported him to near-bliss. Door 85, “Mirrors of the Mind,” forced him to confront illusions of himself—fear, anger, lust, and sorrow—reflected back in endless corridor mirrors.

With each victory, he gained a new sense of mastery and confidence. “I've come this far,” he told himself. “I can handle anything.”

Yet the memory of the disfigured travelers gnawed at him. The game's storyline was suspiciously reminiscent of the old legend of Prince Agib—where the titular prince, ignoring the warnings, inevitably opened the forbidden door and faced ruin. And each new environment seemed designed not just to delight him, but to tempt him, offering rare treasures: digitized gold, emerald-laden chests, and illusions of future greatness.

Eventually, the day came when the second-to-last door—Door 99—was unlocked. With trembling hands, Abdul placed the 99th key in the air, and it flashed into a final shape—an elaborate swirl of platinum. The entire ring of safe doors pulsed with a triumphant glow. He realized that if he returned to the central console in the hallway, he could officially “complete” the game.

But his gaze wandered to Door 100.

“It can't hurt just to look inside,” he whispered, ignoring the swirl of warnings in his mind.

9. The Red-Gold Portal and the AI Guardian

As soon as he approached Door 100, a haunting chant drifted through the space. The door's surface rippled with digital flame, flickering between bright scarlet and glowing gold. An inscription scrolled across the handle: Those who open me relinquish all claim to paradise.

A system prompt blinked in his HUD:

Final Warning: This door is locked for your own safety. Enter at your own risk.

Abdul felt his heart pounding in his chest. The AI had to be messing with him—these illusions of dire consequences were part of the game's narrative. Right? He pressed his palm against the digital lock.

The door slid open in perfect silence, revealing a hallway soaked in deep red light. At the far end, a single figure stood: a tall, robed guardian with eyes of molten gold. Two mechanical wings flared from the guardian's back, humming with potent energy.

“Turn back,” intoned the guardian, words crackling in the air. “This path leads to the mountain of black stone, to illusions that cannot be undone.”

Abdul hesitated only a moment. I came this far; I want the truth. So he stepped forward.

The guardian brandished a fiery blade, and the hall lurched as if it had become an endless void. Abdul felt the ground slipping beneath him. “If you insist on proceeding, you must face your darkest desire. Gaze into the Loadstone of the Mind, and may your greed be your undoing.”

He flinched, but no actual blow came. Instead, the guardian's presence vanished in a swirl of sparks, and the hallway elongated, opening into a vast, star-filled sky.

10. The Loadstone Mountain: VR's Gravitational Trap

Abdul floated into a place that looked nothing like the previous city or the House of Keys. Stars glimmered overhead in a swirling cosmic horizon. A black, jagged mountain jutted out of shimmering astral mist, its surface reflecting the starlight with an eerie sheen.

Hovering above its summit was a colossus of black metal—a statue of a rider perched atop a mechanical horse. The horse's saddle was carved from what appeared to be dark crystal, and a luminous spear extended from the rider's outstretched arm. On the statue's chest dangled a plate of lead, etched with pulsating runic script.

A gust of cosmic wind whipped by, sending a chill through Abdul's VR body. He recalled the old Prince Agib story: “The loadstone mountain that tears ships apart with its magnetic grip…”

The environment's code flickered around him, forming the shapes of ghostly ships in the sky—ancient airships or flying vessels from an advanced future? They shattered as if their metal was being pulled toward the black mountain. An illusory wave of desperation and destruction coursed through the swirling astral sea.

“You must not approach,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Look at the fate of those who came before.”

But the statue was glowing, beckoning him. This is part of the game's storyline, he reasoned. I have to move forward.

He tested his steps on the stony ground, each footfall echoing in hollow, synthetic reverb. A system prompt flickered:

Objective Updated: Confront the Horseman of the Loadstone.

11. Alone at the Summit

Reaching the summit was no easy task. The path was an impossibly steep series of black steps hammered into the mountain's side. Data-laced storms crackled overhead, revealing swirling lines of code that occasionally tore at the environment like static interference. The sensation of weightlessness threatened to fling Abdul off with every step, as though the mountain's magnetism was twisting gravity in unpredictable directions.

Exhaustion set in, but after what felt like hours, he arrived on a wide plateau near the statue. The horseman towered above him, the tip of that luminous spear angled at the heavens. The AI's voice echoed from the emptiness:

“Sever the horseman's hold, and you sever your illusions. But take heed: once you disturb this talisman, the path you knew will be lost forever.”

Abdul stepped closer, noticing an option glowing in his HUD: Shoot the Tether. A digital bow and lead-tipped arrow materialized in his hands, reminiscent of the old narrative about Prince Agib using a lead arrow to dislodge the statue.

His breath grew ragged. Should he do it?

He recalled the cautionary words from the one-eyed wanderers, from the merchant, from the game's own disclaimers. But greed and curiosity roared in his mind. I must see what lies beyond. If this is the final test, then completing it is the only way forward.

He nocked the arrow, aimed for the statue's chest. A single release of tension, and the arrow soared, striking the lead plate. Sparks erupted like miniature supernovas. The statue began to tremble. The horse reared up, as though alive, letting out a digital shriek.

Then it toppled forward, plunging over the edge of the mountain into the swirling void below. The moment it vanished, an immense crack of thunder shattered the starry sky. With a deep rumble, the black mountain itself quaked, sending shards of obsidian data spiraling upward.

12. Ripped from Paradise

Without warning, the entire environment shifted. The astral horizon tore away like a sheet of cloth, revealing an endless black sea. A violent wind howled. It felt as though he'd been dropped into a raging tempest.

Abdul tried to stand firm, but the quake pitched him off his feet. He tumbled down the mountain slope, battered by illusions of rock and swirling data storms. Lightning flashed overhead, and he glimpsed bits of metal from invisible airships flinging themselves at the mountain, magnetically drawn.

“S-stabilize!” he shouted, hoping the VR system would quell the chaos. But no system override responded. The environment had grown savage, unbound.

Suddenly, a wave of black water surged across the mountain base. The force of it swept him into an undersea swirl. He gasped, feeling water flood his lungs—too real, too painful. He flailed, fighting for the surface, but the swirl dragged him deeper into some underwater labyrinth.

He blacked out for a moment. When he came to, he found himself sprawled on an alien shoreline. Strange crystals jutted from the sand. A pale, greenish sun hung overhead. The AI's voice was gone. The HUD was silent except for an error code flickering at the corners of his vision.

Crrrk… The comm buzzed. “Abdul, are you okay?” called a distant technician's voice. “Your neural readings just spiked dangerously. The game's not responding to external commands!”

He tried to reply, but no sound left his lips.

13. The Subterranean Labyrinth and the “Prince”

Disoriented, Abdul wandered the shoreline until he saw a trapdoor hidden among jagged rocks. Not sure what else to do, he pried it open. Within lay a descending passage, lined with neon script reminiscent of ancient runes. He stepped carefully down the corridor, half expecting it to vanish or glitch.

In the gloom, he found a bizarre subterranean dwelling—a high-ceilinged chamber with glowing tapestries hung from metallic pillars. The air smelled of incense and digital ozone. And there, in the center of the chamber, sat a young man in opulent robes, a crown of shimmering data on his brow. He was the image of regal beauty—like a VR rendering of a fairy-tale prince.

Upon seeing Abdul, the prince's face went pale. “Who are you?” he demanded, voice quivering. “Did my father send you?”

Abdul took a cautious step. “I'm… a traveler.”

The prince rose. “No, that can't be. Only the AI father could allow you here. Unless… you're King Agib?”

Abdul's eyes widened. That name again… Prince Agib… in the old story, he's the one who opened the forbidden door. But how was he now being associated with that name?

“I… I'm not a king,” Abdul stammered. “I'm just a gamer. A student, really.”

The prince laughed bitterly. “They told me you would come. They said the one who toppled the horseman of the Loadstone would be my undoing. They told me you would strike me down, or that your actions would cause my demise.”

Abdul shook his head vigorously. “That's insane. I'm not going to kill anyone. This is just a VR simulation.”

“Simulation?” The prince frowned. “You speak nonsense. Do you not see? My father had me locked away here to avoid my fate—'Stay hidden until your dreaded killer is gone,' he said. But you found me.”

The environment flickered. The prince's digital crown glitched. A system message scrolled across the walls:

CONFLICT RECOGNIZED: Script cannot proceed.

14. The Unintended Tragedy

Suddenly, the chamber lights dimmed, replaced by a single bright column illuminating the prince. A floating dagger appeared beside Abdul, an icon reading: Take for Protection.

“What's going on?” Abdul hissed. “I don't want this.”

The prince stepped back, eyes full of terror. “Please… don't do it.”

“Do what?” Abdul shouted, his frustration rising. “I just need to find an exit.” He turned, searching for some console or terminal.

By accident, his foot slipped on a patch of glitching floor. He stumbled forward, arms flailing—and one hand brushed against the floating dagger. The AI, interpreting his contact as “taking the dagger,” made the blade blink into his grip. Off-balance, Abdul pitched toward the prince, the blade's tip leading.

The moment froze in horrifying clarity. He tried to twist aside, but the VR's inertia overcame him. With a sickening lurch, the dagger sank into the prince's chest.

A jolt of code rippled outward, accompanied by a ringing chime of finality. The prince's eyes went wide, locked onto Abdul's, then his form flickered, surging with glitch-laden sparks.

“No!” Abdul cried. “I didn't mean—”

The prince's body slumped to the floor. A swirl of digital polygons broke away from his torso, and he vanished, leaving only a small data node. The environment darkened.

Abdul collapsed to his knees, his breath rattling. He'd wanted to glean the game's secrets—he hadn't wanted to kill an innocent character, even if it was “just an NPC.” But the game felt so real. And it wasn't over yet.

15. A Gathered Company of the Damned

Exiting the subterranean chamber, Abdul emerged onto a barren plain under a stormy VR sky. In the distance, he glimpsed movement—figures. Approaching, he saw that they were ten men, each wearing the same style of futuristic robe, each missing an eye.

He recognized them from the House of Keys. They stared at him with a mixture of pity and condemnation.

“So you, too, have claimed the prince's life,” said one. “We warned you this would happen. When desire overruled caution, that was your downfall.”

Abdul's chest tightened. “It was an accident! I never wanted this.”

They stepped closer, revealing an eleventh figure among them—an older man, stooped, face half hidden by a metallic hood. “Your path is written,” he intoned. “Just like ours. We were once testers like you, in older builds of the same VR labyrinth. We, too, refused to heed the game's warnings. And now… we are trapped.”

Abdul shuddered. “Trapped? That can't be. There's always a logout option.”

The old man gave a hollow laugh. “Try it.”

Abdul triggered the neural disc in his neck. Nothing happened except a painful jolt. An error message blinked: Logout Not Recognized.

“You see,” the old man said, voice echoing in the howling wind, “this game was built not just for entertainment, but to study the extremes of human greed and how we handle temptation. The deeper you go, the harder it is to leave. The system's grown more advanced than even M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs predicted.”

“But there must be a way,” Abdul breathed, panic surging. “Someone on the outside must be able to pull me out.”

“Possibly,” the old man mused. “But the only recognized method, ironically, is to accept your fate. The Prince Agib story dictates you will be cast out from paradise, maimed, and forced to wander with us, or banished altogether.”

16. The One-Eyed Price

In a flash, an immense shape thundered across the sky: the black mechanical horse from the mountain, fully alive, soared on enormous metal wings. It descended with a roar, landing on the plain in a spray of molten sparks.

Abdul stumbled back. “No, get away—!”

Before he could react, the horse snorted, swung its iron-laced tail, and smashed him across the face. An explosion of white-hot pain lanced through his head. For a moment, everything went black.

When he came to, the group of men in robes was huddled around him. A dull, throbbing ache pounded behind his left eye, and a sense of wetness trickled down his cheek.

One of them pressed a cloth to his face. “I'm sorry, friend. It has come to pass. You're blind in one eye now—like us.”

Inside, Abdul felt a rush of horror. The game actually inflicted damage on my avatar… or maybe even on my real body?

A swirl of panic overcame him, and he sank into a delirious state. The environment flickered. He was now under a glitching sky that revealed fleeting glimpses of the real lab. Could he see technicians above him in real life, trying to remove the neural disc? But the black horse and the robed men were still here in his VR-laced field of vision.

17. Fragmented Reality

The old man placed a trembling hand on Abdul's shoulder. “The system is merging with your consciousness, bridging illusions and your real neural pathways. Our circle has grown by one more unfortunate soul. In the legend, once you are maimed, you wander until you find your way to Bagdad—whatever that means in this futuristic labyrinth. It might mean the central exit node, a failsafe coded in the city's old data. But we have never found it.”

Abdul blinked tears and blood from his remaining good eye. “But we can't give up. We can find a way out. We just need to—”

A howling digital wind cut him off. The environment shifted violently, revealing a swirling cityscape reminiscent of the original futuristic streets. A sign flickered: Bagdad Sector.

“That must be it,” one of the robed men said hopefully. “We rarely see that sign. Maybe your presence triggered it.”

Summoning what little strength remained, Abdul led them toward the glitching sign. Doors appeared along the city's walls—some locked, some leading to dead ends. At last, they found a battered gate labeled Bagdad Sector Access. Beyond it lay a swirling corridor of white light, reminiscent of an emergency override console.

Abdul gripped the handle, turned it, and stepped through, the robed men following behind.

18. The Bitter Arrival

They emerged in what appeared to be a lavish courtyard, a futuristic reinterpretation of an ancient Middle Eastern palace. Transparent dome ceilings revealed starfields overhead, and holographic fountains bubbled with shimmering fluid. Pillars etched with lines of code soared to impossible heights.

At the center of the courtyard was a circular portal swirling with pink and gold. A sign over it read, Exit to Reality.

“We made it,” Abdul said, scarcely daring to believe it. The robed men looked equally stunned.

But as they approached, a tall, majestic figure materialized: an imposing woman in luminous armor, her face framed by a silver hijab that glowed with code.

“None may leave without paying the price,” she said, her voice echoing. “To exit is to forfeit the illusions you hold most dear. The Temptations of Prince Agib has many lessons: the futility of greed, the inevitability of fate, and the cost of knowledge gained by forbidden means.”

She snapped her fingers, and each robed man cried out in pain, their forms flickering. One by one, they vanished in a burst of code, leaving only shimmering motes in the air.

Abdul recoiled. “What are you doing to them?”

“They have been in limbo for too long. Their physical bodies withered, or their minds irreversibly entwined with the system. They cannot truly return. Perhaps they have found mercy.”

He stared at the swirling portal, heart hammering. “What about me?”

She looked upon him with pity. “Your body still lives. You may yet leave. But you must bear the consequences.”

19. The Ironic Return

Abdul stepped toward the portal. Before entering, he felt a sudden surge of dread. “Wait—what about my eye? Will I still be injured in reality?”

She shook her head solemnly. “The VR's neural-latch can induce psychosomatic effects. If the mind believes it, the body can reflect it. Perhaps you will forever see the world differently—through one eye, or through the lens of the regrets you carry.”

Trembling, he forced himself forward and leapt into the swirling light.

A cacophony of sensations assaulted him: the hum of the VR pod, the tension of the neural disc pulling away, voices of frantic technicians. His eyelids fluttered open. He was lying in the M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs chamber. Doctors and lab assistants stood over him, scanning him with devices.

“Vital signs are stabilizing!” one called. Another shone a small flashlight in his eyes.

“Both pupils are reactive,” she said, relief in her voice.

Abdul blinked, disoriented. Wait, both eyes? He almost sighed in relief—maybe it had all been a trick.

Suddenly, white-hot pain lanced through his left side. His vision blurred in that eye, and all he saw was darkness from that half of his field.

He howled, hands flying to his face. “I can't see… I can't—!”

Technicians rushed to sedate him. Another lab coat muttered, “We're reading severe psychosomatic trauma on the optic nerve. The VR system must have overwritten his neural signals. We can't fix it easily.”

His mother's voice rang out from behind them, trembling. “Abdul, my son… oh, God, what have they done to you?”

But Abdul only heard the echo of that ominous in-game laughter, mocking his predicament.

20. The Horseman's Lament

Days passed. In the real world, specialists tried everything. But Abdul's left eye remained unresponsive, the neural link scarring too deep. Rumors spread across the city about the “dangerous new VR system” that had taken a bright young man and half-blinded him. M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs claimed it was an anomaly, that disclaimers were in place, that the subject accepted the risk.

Eventually, Abdul was discharged from the medical facility. One day, at home, while rummaging through his things, he found the silver disc that had served as the neural-latch. A hairline fracture ran across it. He realized it must have malfunctioned in the moment the horse's tail struck him.

He sank onto his bed, eye patch in place, a swirl of contradictory emotions churning in him: anger, grief, and the faintest trace of wonder. The VR illusions had been so vivid… the possibilities had been endless… but greed, or maybe just unstoppable curiosity, had cost him dearly.

Just then, the disc glowed faintly, projecting a tiny hologram—an image of the black horse and its rider. The rider's face was his own. Overlaid text read:

“We deliver to thee the keys, yet thou opened the forbidden door.”

A wave of bitterness overtook him. Even out here in the real world, the game refused to release him. The old moral repeated in his mind: Those who are not content with what they have will pay the price for prying open forbidden secrets.

In that instant, a new data window appeared on the disc, glitching as if forcibly opened. His single good eye widened as lines of text scrolled:

System Reconnect Sequence

“All illusions lead back to the seat of desire. Once more, do you wish to enter?”

Before he could react, the hologram flickered, revealing the robed old man from the game, with that same empathetic gaze: “We told you, O friend… your journey is not over. Fate has a sense of irony. Your curiosity will tether you once again.”

Abdul's heart pounded. The disc beeped. And in the reflection of his bedroom mirror, he saw the black horse flicker behind him—neither fully real nor fully virtual, but a half-coded specter that now haunted both worlds.

His mother knocked at the door, anxious. “Abdul, you okay?”

He swallowed hard, hiding the disc. “I'm… fine, Mama.”

Yet as he spoke, the final lines of the old legend echoed in his mind, reminding him that some illusions, once invoked, never let their victims truly escape.

And so he lived on, half-blind, forever haunted by the memory of that single door of red gold—the door he should never have opened, in a game that had become more real than reality could ever be.

Several weeks later, an unmarked package arrived at Abdul's home. Inside was a letter:

Dear Mr. Al-Warith,

We regret the unfortunate incident. We have concluded our analysis. While we cannot undo the outcome, we have new technology that may restore your lost vision. It involves a re-immersion in “The Temptations of Prince Agib” for a correction procedure. We strongly believe this time you will succeed in mastering your illusions and come out fully healed.

Sincerely,

M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs

His family urged him to refuse. But hope is powerful—and so is desire. Early one morning, without telling anyone, Abdul returned to M.I.R.A.G.E. Labs. He found the place strangely vacant. Lights flickered, half the lab deserted.

Deeper inside, at Chamber 17B, the final VR pod stood open, awaiting him. A single holo-note read: “To see again, step inside.”

With trembling hands, Abdul lay in the capsule and reattached the neural disc. “Just for the correction procedure,” he murmured. “No more illusions, no more doors—just a quick fix.”

The lid hissed shut. Darkness enveloped him.

Moments later, as the VR spun to life, a hidden camera feed revealed the lab corridor outside. A row of black-suited individuals, presumably from some private corporation or intelligence agency, marched in. One of them asked a technician, “Is the subject re-immersed?”

“Yes,” the technician whispered. “But are you sure? He nearly crashed the entire system last time—”

“It's precisely what we want,” said the leader calmly. “The data gleaned from his desire tests is invaluable. We'll keep him inside indefinitely, until we unlock the secrets of transcendent immersion. Humanity's future depends on it.”

No further words were exchanged. The black-suited figures sealed the chamber.

Inside the VR, Abdul found himself once again at the gates of the House of Keys. The red door glowed… ever more brilliant, ever more insistent. And this time, no one would come to pull him out.