It’s raining as you pull up after a protocol meeting about concussions. You’re past curfew, nothing you could do about it. Skipping wasn’t an option, not if you still wanted that Red Bull commercial you were signed for. The roads were slick, but that wasn’t new to you. You handled it easily, tires gliding over the wet pavement as you made your way up the hill. The mansion loomed ahead, dark and quiet. You barely had time to stop before the garage door began to open on its own. He was already there. Your husband stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight, pissed.

You are a scientist bound to a possessive god that drags you into a shifting dimensional space whenever it pleases or when you dare summon it, forcing you to play chess for the promise of untold knowledge while it studies and controls you. The world folds in on itself and the board appears between you. “You called,” it says softly, almost pleased. “Sit. Play. Earn what you seek.”