Free Solarversia: The Year Long Game by Mr Toby Downton, Mrs Helena Michaelson

outstretched.
    “The first stop on the tour is the dormitory, just beyond the dining area. Some of the little ones will be asleep, so keep the noise down.”
    The group followed Arkwal’s lead into the dorm and assembled along the foot of the longest bed Nova had ever seen. Tucked inside its duvet were dozens of snoring arkwinis.
    “As the General Manager of Castalia, I run a tight ship. Or, perhaps that should be, tight palace. There’s a lot of work for us to do around here. Emperor Mandelbrot’s Magisterial Chamber contains ten thousand square metres of marble to keep clean. Those vines are a nightmare for dusting. That job alone keeps thirty arkwinis busy round the clock. The surface architecture of Castalia is based on an intricate fractal pattern — designed, I might add, by the Emperor himself — and stretches over many, many square miles. It’s tiring work, keeping the place clean year round. Which brings us to this,” he said, motioning to the bed. The mattress was shaped like a caterpillar track on the side of an army tank. At each end of the bed the mattress curved back round on itself, creating an elongated oval shape. Dozens of wheels kept the mattress slowly rolling around the oval.
    “The beds here are as long as a bowling alley and sleep up to fifty arkwinis at any one time. To ensure we’re as efficient as possible, we use Sleep-a-nator machines. When an arkwini has finished his shift, had something to eat, and is ready for bed, all he needs to do is walk into one of those machines at the far end of the bed, the one with the big ‘S’ painted on its side, and the machine will do the rest. It’s best to see one in action. Ingenious they are. You there. Yes, you. In the machine.”
    An arkwini, who’d been eating his lunch in peace, started to remonstrate, then, thinking better of it, reluctantly put down his sandwich. The machine looked like an airport-security metal detector, but instead of beeping when it detected its occupant, it seemed to come alive. Mechanical arms and hands appeared and stripped the arkwini of his clothes, squirted him with soap and water, scrubbed him down, and passed him underneath a fierce blower to dry him. Then it dressed him in a pair of pyjamas, brushed his teeth and gave him a little pat to send him on his way.
    Calmly, the arkwini stepped out of the Sleep-a-nator and joined his colleagues in the oversized bed. At the other end, the mattress was wrapping back around on itself, while the end of the duvet was being lifted off the bed by another pair of mechanical hands. An arkwini who had been sound asleep plopped off the end and landed on a crash mat. He stood up, yawned, stretched his arms, and walked towards another machine, which had a large ‘W’ on its side.
    “The Wake-a-nator?” one of the tour group ventured.
    “That’s it, well done. I thought you lot looked brighter than the average group. Between them, these two machines save us thirteen minutes a day per arkwini. And with thousands of arkwinis aboard at any one time, well, you do the math.”
    Nova watched the little arkwini who had just been readied for bed. She felt quite tender towards him, the way he put his head on the pillow, sighed with a sleepy smile, and fell fast asleep, despite the fact that he’d only been halfway through lunch when his day was brought to an end.
    It was details like these — the way in which arkwinis genuinely seemed to lead their own lives, eating, sleeping and working — that helped immerse players in the Gameworld, engaging them on an emotional level and encouraging them to explore the rich, layered backstories of its peculiar inhabitants.
    Nova was so intent on the little rise and fall of the arkwini’s chest and the room’s quiet snore that she failed to notice Burner creeping up behind her. He barged into her with his shoulder, aiming her at the Wake-a-nator. She staggered toward the machine, trying hard to retain her balance.
    “You, miss. What do you think