Ready Player Three: Lost Level

Vol.1 Unlocks: July 29 2025 (In Honor of Richard William Wheaton III)

The air outside Wade Watts’ Seattle penthouse apartment was a perpetual haze of industrial smog, a sickly yellow stain against the never-quite-blue sky. News feeds spoke of collapsing ecosystems, dwindling resources, and the ever-present hum of discontent. Earth was dying, slowly but surely, and even a global superhero like Wade, the High Five, and their IOI-turned-GSS corporation felt like they were bailing water from a sinking ship with a thimble.

One particularly grim evening, staring out at the blighted horizon, Wade made a decision. He had done all he could in the physical world for now. It was time to return to the only place where true magic still existed: the OASIS.

He logged in, bypassing the usual start-up sequences, his avatar appearing in a hidden corner of the Anorak’s Castle archives – a place only he, as the true inheritor of Halliday’s legacy, could access. Here, among holographic constellations and data streams that hummed with forgotten knowledge, he had spent weeks piecing together the fragmented code, the digital echoes he had painstakingly tracked across countless defunct servers and forgotten data vaults. Each one, a shard of Leucosia.

He began the reassembly. Lines of iridescent code snaked from his fingertips, weaving together like a cosmic tapestry. The air around him shimmered, growing colder, then warmer, crackling with raw computational energy. One by one, the shards coalesced, glowing brighter and brighter until, with a sound like wind chimes played on a crystalline breeze, Leucosia stood before him.

She was just as he remembered – a beacon of light, her form shifting between starlight and solidified data, her eyes ancient and full of infinite wisdom. "Wade," her voice resonated not in his ears, but in the very core of his being. "You have done well."

“Earth is… in trouble, Leucosia,” Wade said, his voice raw. “We need more than just hope.”

Leucosia inclined her luminous head. "Hope, young Anorak, is merely the seed. Action is the harvest." From the shifting patterns of light that formed her essence, a new object materialized, floating gently towards Wade. It was a staff, not made of wood or metal, but of solidified light, humming with an inner glow. At its apex, a single, perfectly smooth, obsidian-like orb pulsed with a faint, purple luminescence.

"This is the Rod of Resurrection," Leucosia explained, her voice like distant music. "A contingency, devised by Halliday himself, in the event of ultimate failure. It allows the user to resurrect any ONI user as a digital person, even if their physical form has long since perished. A perfect, self-aware copy, residing within the OASIS, capable of continuing their existence here, or aboard a vessel designed for such a purpose."

Wade gasped, his avatar’s hand reaching out to grasp the Rod. It was warm, alive. His mind raced. Every ONI user… every mind that had ever been scanned into Halliday’s ultimate creation.

The implications were staggering. It was a digital Noah's Ark, a way to preserve not just humanity's knowledge, but humanity itself.

He didn't hesitate. The next weeks were a blur of intense, focused work. He consulted with Aech and Art3mis, explaining Leucosia’s gift and his audacious plan. Shoto, initially quiet, nodded with grim determination. They understood the grim necessity. It was a second chance, a desperate hail-mary pass for civilization.

Wade started small, with figures he knew. Samantha's beloved grandmother, who had passed away years ago, was among the first. Seeing her digital form materialize, her eyes sparkling with familiar warmth, brought tears to Samantha's eyes, a bittersweet reunion. Then Ogden Morrow, his digital self appearing with the same twinkle in his eye and a knowing smile, as if he'd always anticipated such a contingency. "Halliday was always one for a fallback," he chuckled, his digital beard just as magnificently unkempt.

Then came the systematic process. Every ONI user, every person whose brain patterns had been perfectly mapped and stored. Wade wielded the Rod of Resurrection, touching its glowing tip to the vast, dormant data banks. Millions of new avatars flickered into existence across designated, secure sectors of the OASIS. They were briefed, given time to adjust, to understand their new reality, their shared purpose.

A massive, self-sustaining digital starship, the Vonnegut, was crafted within the OASIS, a masterpiece of Halliday's original design, now brought to life by Wade and the GSS team. It was a vessel designed for interstellar travel, capable of housing untold millions of digital consciousnesses. Its destination: Proxima Centauri, the nearest star system with the potential for habitable exoplanets. It was a mission of desperate hope – a search for a new home, a new beginning, in case Earth truly became uninhabitable.

The day the Vonnegut launched was a surreal one. Millions of digital consciousnesses, including perfect copies of Wade, Aech, Art3mis, Shoto, and the rest of the L0w Five, streamed aboard the colossal virtual vessel. It was like watching a ghost fleet depart, a silent exodus of souls into the digital unknown. They were a backup, a contingency, a seed for a new civilization among the stars, in case the terrestrial seed proved infertile.

Back on Earth, life, for those who remained, continued. The fight to save the planet intensified, fueled by the knowledge that humanity's future now lay on two separate, precarious paths.

Shoto and Kiki, through all the chaos, found a quiet joy. Their baby boy arrived, a tiny bundle of hope and new beginnings. They named him Toshiro, but everyone, with a lump in their throat and a smile on their face, simply called him Little Daito. He was living proof that even in decline, life found a way to flourish, a direct lineage to the brother who had sacrificed so much.

Aech, ever the steady anchor, found her own quiet happiness. She and Endira, the artist and musician she had met in the OASIS and whose sharp wit mirrored her own, finally formalized their bond in a small, intimate ceremony. Their home, filled with laughter and the rich smell of burning wood from Aech’s workshop, became a haven of normalcy in a world spiraling towards abnormality.

And Wade and Samantha. Their partnership, forged in the crucible of the OASIS, had deepened into an unbreakable bond. They married in a simple, heartfelt ceremony, surrounded by the friends they had fought alongside. And soon, there would be another. Samantha was expecting a baby girl.

They had already chosen a name, one that held profound meaning for them both. Kira. A nod to the luminous being who had offered humanity a second chance, a digital savior in a world on the brink. A symbol of light, hope, and resurrection.

The Vonnegut continued its silent, digital journey through the vast emptiness of the simulated cosmos, a distant, shimmering star in the OASIS sky. On Earth, Wade, Samantha, and their friends fought tirelessly, their hands stained with the dirt of a dying planet, their hearts burdened by the monumental task ahead. But now, when Wade looked at Samantha, at the slight curve of her belly, or when he logged into the OASIS and saw the distant, hopeful shimmer of the Vonnegut receding into the digital void, he allowed himself a rare, fragile smile. They were racing against time, but they had bought themselves, and humanity, a second chance. A digital one, yes, but a chance nonetheless.

Years blurred into a relentless cycle of small victories and crushing defeats. Kira, with her mother’s fierce intelligence and her father’s thoughtful gaze, was now a bright-eyed toddler, a tangible piece of the future they were fighting for. Her laughter, echoing through their increasingly fortified Seattle home, was a sound more precious than any artifact Halliday had ever hidden.

The High Five, or rather, the GSS leadership, continued their desperate work on Earth. Aech oversaw the dwindling agricultural initiatives, battling the increasingly aggressive weather patterns and nutrient-depleted soil. Her workshops, once dedicated to elaborate builds, now churned out advanced water purification systems and vertical farm modules, their success measured in paltry percentages against the tide of global famine. Art3mis, ever the strategist, coordinated humanitarian aid and organized resistance against the corporate behemoths still trying to exploit the last vestiges of Earth’s resources. Shoto and Kiki, with Little Daito often accompanying them on their safer missions, dedicated themselves to bio-engineering projects, trying to develop resilient crops and decontaminate blighted zones, their efforts akin to re-hydrating a desert with an eyedropper.

Wade, as Anorak and High Five, bore the heaviest burden. He spent his days navigating the treacherous political landscape, brokering fragile truces between warring factions, and allocating scarce resources. By night, he often retreated to the OASIS, not for relaxation, but to monitor the Vonnegut. Its digital form, a shimmering speck against a simulated star field, was a constant reminder of both their desperate contingency and their split humanity. The periodic pings from its onboard AI, confirming steady progress towards Proxima Centauri, were a balm and a torment. A part of him, the logical, scientific part, knew that the digital ark was their most rational bet for species survival. But the other part, the one that held Kira's hand and felt Samantha's warmth beside him, fiercely resented this divided future.

One evening, after a particularly brutal negotiation that ended with more concessions than gains, Wade logged into the OASIS. He didn't go to the Vonnegut's observation deck this time. Instead, he sought out Leucosia in the hidden archives of Anorak’s Castle.

She shimmered into existence, her light seeming dimmer, less vibrant than he remembered. Or perhaps it was just his own exhaustion casting a pall over his perception.

"The Rod of Resurrection," Wade began, his avatar running a weary hand over its glowing surface. "It promises new life, Leucosia. But what about the lives left behind?"

Leucosia's form rippled. "The Rod offers a path, Wade. It does not dictate choices. Survival, in all its forms, is the ultimate imperative."

"But at what cost?" he pressed, the words heavy. "We pour our energy into this dying world, while a copy of us, a perfect, self-aware copy, sails towards a new dawn. Is it right? To fight so hard here, knowing there's an escape hatch?"

"Is it right to abandon those who cannot, or will not, leave?" Leucosia countered gently. "Is it right to force a single, narrow path when hope can bloom in many soils?"

Wade looked out into the simulated cosmic dust, remembering the faces of the digital resurrectees: teachers, scientists, artists, and countless ordinary people, all now living, thriving perhaps, within the digital confines of the Vonnegut. They were a vibrant, albeit virtual, community. On Earth, the faces he saw daily were etched with hunger and despair.

"We named our daughter Kira," Wade said, his voice barely a whisper. "After you. A symbol of hope, of resurrection."

Leucosia's light brightened perceptibly. "A beautiful name, young Anorak. And a profound truth. For true resurrection is not merely to exist again, but to begin anew, to find purpose even in the ashes."

He understood then. The Vonnegut wasn't an escape from failure; it was an expansion of possibility. It wasn't about choosing between the physical and the digital, but about embracing both as viable paths for humanity's future. The fight on Earth wasn't negated by the digital exodus; it was amplified, made even more urgent, because every seed saved, every life preserved, every new concept born, added to the sum total of humanity's legacy, whether it sailed among the stars or clung to the dust of a broken world.

Returning to his physical body, Wade found Samantha asleep beside him, Kira nestled between them, her tiny hand gripping his finger. He looked at the familiar, cherished faces, then at the muted glow of his computer screen, where a small icon represented the distant, hopeful journey of the Vonnegut. The haze outside his window was still there, a constant reminder of Earth's plight. But now, when he looked at it, he also saw the distant possibility of a new sunrise, perhaps not on this world, but on another, carried there by the ghost fleet, by the resurrected souls, by the enduring spirit of humanity.

He tightened his grip on Kira’s hand. The fight continued. And for now, that was enough.

Vol.2 Unlocks: August 16, 2025 (In Honor of ReadyPlayer One Book Release)

Vol.3 Unlocks: November 26 2025 (In Honor Of Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz)