I wish I could teleport there, but I haven't unlocked that ability on this avatar. I don't have a personalized avatar, because I don't really play Second World. I know my way around, though, because I've watched over Daria's shoulder more than enough.
I take the trams to the right city and head out of town, through the virtual forest. The trees have leaves like fractals, and the sunlight streams down in shafts filled with swirling dust motes. If you watch long enough, you can see the swirling patterns repeat. I've watched my daughter come this way so many times, but I've never followed the path myself. I'm afraid I'll get lost among this forest of clones -- each tree clearly sharing the same basic code.
Then I see the glade Daria loves open up before me. And there she is.
Daria is curled up with her arms around her knees in the middle of a sunny clearing, filled with fantastical flowers drawn by some of the greatest visual artists in Second World.
Daria's wearing the most complicated avatar I've seen her in. I know it's just an avatar, but she designed it. And I can see all her pain reflected in the changes that her virtual self has undergone in the past year.
To begin with, she was simply a cat. An anthropomorphic feline with pointy ears, whiskers, and a twitchy tail on the body of a little girl. It was funny watching my daughter turn herself into a cat on the computer after all the years she'd spent pretending to be one.
Then her dad and I started fighting. After each big fight, I noticed a new feature. When she saw him throw the thermos at me, she added butterfly wings. When he tore the door to the living room off its hinges, she added a mermaid tail.
When Ken and I told her we were getting divorced... That's when she added the tortoise shell. A big green shield covering her avatar's little back. The way her butterfly wings fold up under it always makes me think of a ladybug. Her avatar is painfully cute. And painful.