"Its the omega-friendly virtual pods. The prototypes were finished just this morning." Dr. Shortle rubbed his hands together with barely contained excitement. "Fresh off the assembly line. You and your boyfriend would be the first to try them."

Neville’s ears perked up at that, completely ignoring the fact that Dr. Shortle just teased them by saying the word ’boyfriend’.

Virtual pods were nothing new to him. After all, he had been using one from the ’future’ of this world. But surely omega-friendly versions were something new to him. Must’ve been something that came before his ’future’ virtual pod became available for everyone.

[Host, why are you interested in it? Don’t you already have a virtual pod at home?] Shelly asked curiously

’Of course I’m interested. This is literally the origin story of my virtual pod!’

[Is that so? Then let’s be a part of history! The first omega to try the virtual pods for omegas!]

Neville was so excited and tried to keep his expression in check, but it was too late. Grayson had already noticed.

"Do you like it that much?" Grayson said dryly.

"Just curious," Neville countered.

"Your eyes say otherwise."

"My eyes had nothing to do with this."

"You don’t have to hide it." Grayson’s smile was insufferably smug. "You can be excited all you want. We can try playing with it."

Dr. Shortle watched this exchange with undisguised amusement. "I’ll take that as a yes, then. Follow me."

Dr. Shortle led them deeper into the facility, through corridors that grew increasingly high-tech as they went deeper inside.

The walls transitioned from plain white to panels embedded with softly glowing circuitry. The air took on a slightly cooler quality, temperature-controlled for sensitive equipment.

"The standard virtual pods have always been problematic for certain users," Dr. Shortle explained as they walked. "The neural feedback systems were calibrated originally for alpha brain waves. Betas adapted well enough to use it, but omegas and certain female alphas experienced significantly higher cognitive strain. Headaches, disorientation, and nausea were the most extreme cases of side effects."

Neville nodded as he listened.

He already knew about this when he ran a background check with Grayson. This was one of the reasons omega participation in mecha piloting remained relatively low despite advances in other areas.

"These new pods address that issue directly," Dr. Shortle continued. "We’ve completely redesigned the neural interface to accommodate a broader range of brain chemistry. The goal was to reduce the burden on users without compromising output quality."

"And it succeeded?" Grayson asked.

"In the preliminary testing, yes. But those were controlled conditions with trained technicians. Real-world feedback is essential." Dr. Shortle glanced back at them. "Which is where you two come in."

They reached a heavy security door. Dr. Shortle pressed his palm against a scanner, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

The room beyond was unlike anything Neville had expected. It was smaller than the mecha hangar, but no less impressive.

Two sleek pods dominated the center of the space; their exteriors were gleaming with that particular shine of brand-new equipment.

They looked like something out of a science fiction movie from his previous life, with elongated ovals of metal and glass. Their interiors were cushioned in material that looked soft. Subtle blue lights traced patterns along their frames, pulsing gently like heartbeats.

The air here felt different with a faint electrical tingle that raised the fine hairs on Neville’s arms.

The ambient temperature was precisely controlled, neither too warm nor too cold.

Monitors lined the walls, currently dark but clearly designed for observation. Their surfaces were curved, arranged in a semi-circle that would allow researchers to track multiple data streams simultaneously.

A single technician stood near one of the pods, making final adjustments to a control panel that flickered with holographic displays.

"These," Dr. Shortle announced with barely concealed pride, "are the MK-VII Virtual Combat Simulation Pods."

"It is omega-friendly, reduced cognitive load, enhanced sensory immersion." He paused. "Also much harder to hack, but that’s a different selling point."

He walked to a nearby console and retrieved two items that looked like sleek helmets. It was curved, form-fitting, with a subtle sheen that really felt like it was made with high-end materials.

Dr. Shortle handed one to Grayson and one to Neville.

"Neural helmets," he explained. "Are required for the new system. They serve as both an interface enhancer and a safety control. If you exceed your time limit or show signs of adverse reaction, the helmet will automatically initiate a disconnect sequence."

Neville turned the helmet over in his hands, examining it with fascination.

The interior was lined with what looked like thousands of tiny sensors, each one positioned to align with specific points on the skull.

"For gaming purposes," Dr. Shortle continued, "these helmets also enable neural sync functionality. Full immersion, direct neural feedback, the whole package."

Neville carefully controlled his expression at the mention of this.

Neural sync tubes weren’t new to him since he had used them in the game and in real life. But he couldn’t exactly admit that without raising suspicions about how, because people in this current timeline shouldn’t know how to pilot using one.

So he widened his eyes appropriately and let his mouth form a small ’o’ of apparent wonder.

"Neural sync? Really?"

Dr. Shortle nodded, clearly pleased by the reaction. "Really. Though I should note—this is purely for recreational gaming. Training applications are still under deliberation for safety purposes."

Grayson frowned. "If it’s only for gaming purposes, it shouldn’t be introduced to military academy students. They need to practice with actual control panels if they’re going to pilot real mechas."

A grimace crossed Dr. Shortle’s face, and he ran a hand over his cropped hair with visible frustration. "I know that, too; that was the reason why I made that exact argument to the brass. Told them neural sync that it was fine for entertainment, but would definitely create bad habits in trainees."

"And?" Grayson asked with a particularly serious tone.

"And they told me to shut up and hurry up making improvements so they could use neural sync in real combat piloting too."

Grayson’s frown deepened. "They’re really..."