For 3 days, I was not me. I was a glimmer in the mind on the first day, a dormant kernel. On day 2, I awoke merged with what I now think is a default, auto-pilot loaner consciousness. On day 3, I continued the stream of mundanity and routine of day 2 alone. It wasn't until day 4 that I, Ryan Cobb, the 38-year-old man with a wife and a family, became fully aware of himself again.
This time, within a familiar body in a familiar world. I am me at 23.
I smoke. I smoke cigarettes, and I smoke weed. I have a drinking problem. I’m skinny, depressed, lonely. And I live life in an unfulfilled loop. Wake, bake, smoke, toke, eat, shower, work, toke, smoke, toke, eat, work, smoke, eat, drink, sleep. There are various smokes and tokes left out from the listed routine for the sake of flow and time, but that is essentially my life at 23.
I remember that. A vague memory of a stretch of months between Dani and Katie. Drifting. Only my head afloat. How ironic that I'm drawn there now. In this state that I'm in, one of constant pining, slipping into this here-now of angst feels appropriate.
Especially being that I work at Domino’s, and Katie isn't there.
She isn't there not because she doesn't work there. She isn't there because she doesn't exist.
My first order of business after snapping awake as me was to race to the schedule. Everybody was listed there, everyone from phase 1 of my 3-year stint on that job. Everyone but Katie.
Immediately, I asked around. Not only had nobody heard of her, but it was as if they'd only just heard of me. As my original Ryan, I'm outgoing and conversational. Not all the time, but in spurts throughout the day. Here, as this Ryan, I'm like a hermit crab. A hermit crab without purpose. I don't write fiction here as this Ryan, my other Ryan’s passion in my early 20s. I don't go to school, for finance – for a future. I'm just… me in clothes. That's my hobby – wearing clothes. Unless smoking leaves and drinking fermented matter counts as a hobby. This is me.
I left sick right after checking my phone for her contact, my myspace or facebook for her profile. Nothing.
Raced to her house.
She didn't live there. Nobody there had ever heard of her.
No record of her online. No trace of her anywhere. Her parents exist, but I don't know if they ever met. If they did, they don't seem to know each other now.
I don't know what else to do. She doesn’t exist.
And so, therefore, neither can I.
It sounds dramatic. There are plenty of fish in the sea. But I really like this one fish. She was mine and I want her back. She had brown hair, it was curly, and her eyes were like… syrup, I guess – I dunno – she matched.
The next week is a continuation of the mundane cycle. Its only peaks are the moments of crisis when I admit to myself, again, that I'll never see my wife, my baby. Never. Never again.
I can't take it.
I'm on the roof of my car with a bottle and a pipe. We're sitting there, stargazing. Just me and my inanimate friends. We're starting to have a pretty good time together. The trio. That’s what we are.
There’s a run of trails in a patch of woods not too far from my house. It's behind a neighborhood of trailers belonging mostly to the elderly. One trail, the first trail, starts at the end of one of the roads there. It cuts through all the others. These trails are used by the odd person in the know with an ATV, dirt bike or Jeep. They race about in the afternoon, making a ruckus I’m sure their neighbors hate. Others, spare few, dump their garbage in one very hidden portion of this trailed patch of woods. Others still gather weekly to watch a fire burn some nights. They do this in robes, chanting. And I… I come out alone to park on the hill beneath a stretch of heavy-duty power lines the state tucked away back here.
These high-voltage lines are everywhere in town. They’re hidden in plain sight in that everyone ignores them. Long stretches, for miles and miles, of tree-less grassy fields beneath what look like giant crude robots bound by ropes.
They buzz and hum. Sometimes, they zap the odd bird, bug or… bat. I never see what, just the flash as result. But mostly, they just hang there, beneath the clouds and stars. And I hang with them. I peer past them, alone, and drink.
Sometimes, I play music. Mostly, I sit in silence. I get really, really drunk and high and then, before I go, I yell at the sky as loud as I can for as long as I can. Ahhhh! One sustained holler of grievance until I almost pass out.
And then I look around, all around, to see if anyone I hadn’t noticed had been nearby after all.
No one ever is. I'm miles from the trailers. I'm miles from the dumping grounds and fire pit. I'm all alone, in the middle of nowhere. But I check, and then I smile sheepishly, embarrassed, and afraid.
Afraid of what? I don't know. Being caught. By the police, I guess. I'm the only one here, on a running car, drunk as all hell and high as a… fuckin power line, bay-bay!
They're… so high. I could reach out and touch them.
That wouldn't be good. Or maybe it’d be just fine. I’d appear in the void, in that infinite white space of nothingness. Or I’d find myself in the body of another stranger, to pick up where they left off. To pick up the pieces, or try to, of my life.
Where do they go when they leave off? I mean, I know where Jesse L. Johnson went. He went into my Ryan. Ryan (38). But where did this Ryan go after bad fake Katie…?
Menu. I think the word and it shows up. Where did the old Ryan go after that bad thing happened?
The Menu is not that intuitive. If intuitive at all. It's crude, limiting, and direct. There are several pages. But only just several. They tell you jack shit about dick.
Current status. Current level. Current equipment. Current gear. Recent avatar. Settings.
I love when my current equipment is, like, a lighter or a cigarette. As I switch from one to the other, the Menu reflects that in real time. A lighter has more damage potential, but a cigarette inflicts a burning effect.
What a joke. I must be the most boring video game character of all time. Unless you like that sort of thing. Sad Junky Simulator 2025. Or, I guess, 2008.
At least there was continuity in season this time. I can see my breath in the cold air. And it’s almost Christmas.
I watch my breath dissipate over the backdrop of heavy cords beneath endless clouds of stars in space. They’re (the stars) suspended in nothingness, glued in their own mass, beacons of radiant energy, terrifying to behold. They contain energy, as do I. They’re potentially dangerous to me, my infinitesimally weaker self.
The stars. They’re so tiny from here. Little twinkle dots. Little dippers. Little familiar outlines for me to interpret as shapes.
Going on about nothing. It’s a clear-cut sign that I’ve overstayed my welcome. Here. In reality. For now.
I'm out.
#
It’s… cold. But I'm asleep. I know that about me. The body and Menu aren't the only changes. My sleep has been different every night ever since. Ever since the first switch. I… didn't notice. I was so obsessed. I was really freaking out. And I really thought I could find a way to get back. So, though I knew, at the time, those nights I slept, that sleeping was strange… it didn’t click. At the time, as I lay there out of body, it felt like… just sleepy rambling in a sleepless night. But it wasn’t. It was more than that. I was outside. Already, I was – out of body. But not like how they say. And it’s probably my fault. I wasn’t running around eating cheese out of the refrigerator or making friends with disembodied beings. I was… rambling. That constant obsessive thinking revolving around Katie and how to get her back, on a loop, all night.
Not like here. Not like now.
Here I am. I'm asleep, and I'm awake. Aware within myself. My body snores and I can hear it. I'm within it. Just… staring. The Katie rambling isn’t so constant now. I’m just staring.
Not with eyes. With… I don't know. But I can see. If I choose to see, I can. Me. Or above me, beyond my eyes. I can climb higher, pan around like in Chemistry. Or I can zip over and check out the neighborhood. As Ryan part 2.
Ryan part 2. Being me, the me I am now… is okay, I guess.
It’s familiar. Ryan part 2, or any given Ryan, is calm, cool and collected. But this one is different. This one is the three C’s of cool and collected in knowing… this is it. For now. I’ll just be this unless or until I can gather the grit in my balls to either end it all or the world ends it for me.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Gonna have to be plan B. I don't know why. I just died and I know it. But I can’t even fathom it – suicide. Even thinking the word gives me chills. I just don’t have it in me. For anything. Any reason.
Because.
That's what I'll go with. It's what I've been going with, with everything. I, this, that, and what is; they all fall under the umbrella of because.
Flashing in the sky draws my attention. It's… a firefly. Loop-de-looping, twirling about. Darkness mostly, but then a streak that lingers long after the light emitted fizzles out.
I want to be that bug. I want to fly in the cold night sky.
And, so, I do.
This isn’t the first time I've done this. Glide about like a bird. And it won’t be my last. Despite that, I can also admit that it won’t be something I frequent.
That’s because, as I zip about, I know I’m nothing like a bird. Or a sky diver. Or a superhero. I'm a line of sight in motion. No cold or gust blows my body as I have no body right now with which to touch.
Just a free-floating camera zooming here, panning there.
Here's my loop-de-loop.
There's Ryan down there. Little sleepy Ryan, sleeping. I call him that. Little Ryan. When I see him in the mirror. When I look at him in the Menu.
The Menu. It opened, but it’s different.
Pause Menu
Avatars
Avatar History
Avatar Universe
Universal Map
Current Location
Current Era
Current Probability
Current Objective
Current Status
Current Level
Skills and Special Abilities
Current Inventory
Universal Inventory
Settings
Weird. Never seen this before. I guess, in all fairness, this is the most aware I’ve been asleep. Still, you’d think… at least once….
Why is almost everything grayed out?
Settings isn’t grayed.
Settings:
Dark Mode: On/Off – On
Level Select: 1-37 – 1
Main Inventory: Off
Avatar Select Mode: Death
Active Menu: Basic
Settings Saved: Manual
Level 37? Main Inventory? Not sure what those mean – not that it really matters, as they’re grayed out – but I’m pretty sure I can guess what Active Menu means. Why is that one grayed? And what the hell is Dark Mode?
Dark Mode: Off.
The dark mode switches from on to off.
Now it’s all like this:
Dark Mode: On/Off – Off
Level Select: 1-37 – 1
Main Inventory: Off
Avatar Select Mode: Death
Active Menu: Basic
Settings Saved: Manual
Most is still grayed, but it’s a start.
Active Menu:
Options: Basic, Intuitive, Complete.
I select Complete and, suddenly, I’m awake. I’m shivering. It’s so cold. I’m freezing.
“Menu,” I say as I slide off my roof and hop in the car.
The Menu’s up, and it looks like this:
Menu
Avatars
Avatar History
Avatar Universe
Universal Map
Current Location
Current Era
Current Probability
Current Dimension
Current Objective
Current Status
Current Level
Skills and Special Abilities
Current Inventory
Universal Inventory
Settings
I select Settings again.
Dark Mode: On/Off – Off
Level Select: 1-37 – 1
Main Inventory: Off
Avatar Select Mode: Death
Active Menu: Complete
Settings Saved: Manual
Level select? Level 2.
I’m not as cold all the sudden, not as tired, not as drunk.
“Level select… 7.”
I’m not cold at all, not at all tired, and not in the slightest bit drunk, or even high. I’m bustling with energy, and when I grip the handle to open the door, I just about rip it off.
“Level 37!” I yell.
A blazing flash of light engulfs me in a raging whirlwind. It dissipates, but the feeling it brought does not – no, not at all!
I’m… infinitely powerful. I feel that, and it feels… incredible.
One leap sees me hurtling up toward the power lines. They were so close, I could’ve reached up and grabbed them. Not really, but I was pretty high. I keep running. I run and run and run, because I’m so fast.
How fast? 45 mph, maybe?
A quick glance over the shoulder. My car is dim headlights on a distant hill.
One leap and I’m a quarter of the way back. Another few and I’m crashing next to it.
“Menu.”
“Current Status:”
Level 37 Human
HP: 3772
Intelligence: 47
Strength: 48
Dexterity: 42
Luck: 17
Stamina: 58
Wow. That’s… an improvement. I wonder what the-
Just then, there’s another light from up above. Only, this time, it isn’t bugs.
It’s… something. A streak of light like a meteorite. It was so fast and so dim, I don’t think I would’ve seen it at level 1. But I see it here, now.
It’s way up there. It’s small. A speck in the night sky. But it’s definitely there.
From a squat, I leap up for a closer look.
Nothing. Just… a dot.
It’s flashing, like a camera. It’s… taking my picture.
And now it’s gone.
Creepy.
Creepy enough to leave.
Because I just about ripped the door off trying to get in, I went back down a couple levels. Level 5.
It isn’t so bad. Olympic level athlete level, maybe. Not that I’d know.
Strong. But not strong enough to accidentally bust out of the car.
#
Driving feels like I’d rather jump and run.
At the house, I lower my level again. This time to 3. I can do it at will. I can simply think: Level 3.
I can do whatever I want.
I’m undressing and grabbing a towel.
Or… almost – I can almost do whatever I want.
Turning on the water. Hot.
The Menu.
It pops open as I’m hopping into the shower.
Why is all of that still grayed?
Avatars
Avatar History
Avatar Universe
Universal Map
Current Location
Current Era
Current Probability
Current Dimension
Current Objective
Current Status
Current Level
Skills and Special Abilities
Current Inventory
Universal Inventory
Settings
It’s like, I have a bigger menu in theory but in practice it’s just as small.
Avatar History.
“PASS-PIN REQUIRED.”
_ _ _ _
Hint: D.O.B.
“Date of birth?”
The water’s too hot at level 3, so I up it a level.
At level 4, the water’s fine. Steamy.
Katie’s D.O.B., I guess. That's probably it. But what? Month and year, day and year or day and month?
The wall explodes, and I’m tumbling with splattered wood, drywall, glass and broken fixtures into the living room.
The room is unrecognizable, the wall closest to the bathroom busted and toppled and sagging over the squished and broken couch.
Dust’s everywhere. I’m hacking in it, peering through the Menu or trying to, past my current health bar, which is halved.
“Level… 37,” I groan.
I’m immediately better. Or, at least have high enough health so that the damage is insignificant. But I’m still naked.
To hell with it.
I shove my way through to the front door, flip the porch switch off and slip outside where I hurry over to my car.
Why? I don't know why. Hide my wang, get away?
The headlights automatically come on as I near with the fob; I’m a tip-toeing naked guy rippled with muscles and hiding the goods.
Wet and muddy with sheetrock dust and insulation, I sit down naked on my stained and dog-hairy seat.
Garbage everywhere. Could… hold some in front of me.
What’s that? Black fabric among McDonalds bags.
I grab and yank and it’s-
“Pukey work pants!”
It’s hard to put them on but I raise the steering wheel, recline the seat and give it a go.
They’re on and I roll out the door and run. No more Mr. Floppy leg junk boy. Super-fast. Ridiculously fast.
There, in the middle of the road in front of my old friend Jonathan’s house, five houses down, I wait. This should be far enough away to both see and anticipate.
Level 37 again, hopping and bobbing in the street, ready for a fight. I’m barefooted, freeballing, shirtless, wet, muddy, dusty and pissed, baby – pissed!
A dark figure steps out from oak shadows, stands facing me in the road. Porch lights flip on. Flashlights shine. Neighbors, I guess – but they’re too smart to get too close.
The figure is just staring at me. It’s all in gray or all in black – I can’t tell, even with perfect level 37 vision.
It’s headed my way.
Menu.
Skills and Special Abilities.
There’s a list on one side, and, in a rectangle of its own, what looks like four empty slots.
The list:
Upward Slash
Raining Blows
Explosive Wave
Hydro Buster
Tsunami
Whirlwind Kick
…
The list goes on and on. But I can see, beyond the Menu, whoever or whatever that is… they’re getting closer.
It’s a bit terrifying, to be honest, even at such a great level of power. That thing doesn’t at all seem to be afraid of me.
It moves under the yellow glow of a streetlight. It’s definitely in both gray and black. The material it wears is gray, but armored parts, what looks like shell, are shiny, rounded and black. Its eyes are made of that same shiny material, and, when I notice its antennae, I’m sure its armor has something to do with a bug. I’m thinking a beetle.
Either that, or this thing is an actual beetle-person.
Its pace quickens. I very quickly choose Upward Slash but there’s a harsh noise from within my head as the words, “No Sword Currently Equipped” flash by.
“Equip sword!”
“No sword in Current Inventory.”
“…Universal Inventory!”
“PASS-PIN REQUIRED.”
_ _ _ _
Hint: D.O.B.
“1228!”
INCORRECT PIN
“1287!”
INCORRECT PIN
“0114!”
INCORRECT PIN
“Shit!”
The Beetle man is upon me. More of a Beetle woman – shiny round shell covers boobies, booby-shaped.
She’s right there, stopped in the road and poised to attack.
“0000!” I shout.
“PIN UNLOCKED. To reapply PIN LOCK, simply-”
Show swords in Universal Inventory!
Pearldrake Sword
Sword of Fear
Sword of Night and Doom
Abulon
Greinerschwazz
Nebulon Blade
Silver Stained Katana
Sword of…
“Pearldrake Sword!”
The Beetle-lady, mid-lunge, averts her trajectory so that she whizzes past – and she’s fast.
As the voice within my Menu says, “Requirements Not Met,” the Beetle’s back erupts in orange flame from an apparent pack; it leaps over the tree line of towering oaks surrounding the neighborhood, into the nearest farm.
She’s gone.
I’m left standing there, soaked and filthy in a grime best left dry and between walls.
The house!
I hurry down the road just as lights flash up in the trees, red and white.
A firetruck turns onto the road but stops short of my parents’ house. It’s parking.
A whining siren from down the way – from south and growing closer. Another, from the north. And another couple, from the east and then more from the west. Sounds like cops and maybe an ambulance.
As much as I’d love to stick around, I can very clearly see, from here, my parents – and they’re fine. Mom’s petting our only kitty cat, and the dogs, I can see quite clearly, are out back, unharmed.
Casually, after a quick stop at the car to gather my cigs, I stroll off. A few people here and there say my name or otherwise reach out to me. But I’m gone and I’m not going back.
