Prologue- Those 3 Years

Even now, after three long years, her words were still engraved in my memory.

‘I’m gonna be honest with you,’ she had said to me that day. ‘It won’t always be easy. And it won’t always be fun and games. But if this is truly what you want, if this is truly what you believe you need, then it’ll all be worth it. You’ll always have my love and support. You only get one chance at life, you have to live it your way.’

And that’s how the best 3 years of my life began.

---- Artemis Jones, 4 Days Later, Give or Take 8 Minutes ----

December 29, 2019, Exactly 11:37 AM.

I was sitting in the kitchen working on my Holiday Vacation homework, and let’s be honest here. These are clearly words that should never be associated with each other, under any circumstances. This has to qualify as some kind of child cruelty.

Also, and this is just to set the record straight, I was not humming along with the music my mom was playing while she prepared lunch. Whatever she says to the contrary is a lie.

Anyway, the house on the left of us was owned by Bertha. She was a kind old woman who tended to visit at least once a week, usually staying for lunch or dinner that day. They’d known each other for a lot longer than I’d been alive, with Bertha having babysat mom when she was younger.

We were a small neighborhood, so while everyone really knew everybody else and it wasn’t uncommon for us to have a guest over, there wasn’t any other kids my age nearby. Because of that, I’d spend my afternoons hanging out with my mom or in my room playing games or watching TV. Truly, I’m living my life to the fullest.

Back then I would, occasionally, spend a day with my dad; but he wasn’t around much since he was always traveling for work.

“Oh, yeah.” Bertha finally broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the kitchen with a thought stimulated by the delicious smell of cooking taco meat. “Do you know Helen? Lives a few houses down from me?”

Helen, who I’d probably say was just barely fifty, was a kind woman. As you can probably guess, she lives down the street. On a few rare occasions she’d actually babysit me, which is probably why this conversation piqued my interest. Although I did pretend to keep my attention on my math worksheet. (Sorry for using the M word)

“Did something happen to her?” Mom asked from over by the stove.

“Nothing bad,” Bertha responded. “But from what she’s told me, her grandkids moved in with her. Couple days ago, I think.”

Like most other grandparents, Helen did have a tendency to talk an awful lot about her grandkids. Because of that, I knew she had four grandkids; a pair of older twins, another one who was around their age, and then a younger one. That was all I knew then, though.

“I wonder what happened,” Mom let the thought trail off as she threw a thing of taco shells into the oven, before instructing me to go wash up and put everything away before lunch.

“What do you say we pay them a little visit later?” Mom asked when I came back downstairs a couple minutes later.

Looking back on it now though, I have to wonder how much my mom already knew beforehand. About their situation, about the grandkids themselves, and about how important that visit would end up being for me.

--- 1 Hours, 4 Minutes, and 32 Seconds Later ---

“Oh, Carol!” Helen answered the door with a smile on her face, in spite of us randomly showing up unannounced in the middle of the day. Helen had one of the personalities that meant she wouldn’t even think twice about that. “What brings you here?”

“Well I was just in the neighborhood,” I apologize for my mom’s awful attempt at a joke. I sincerely do. “And I figured I’d come by to say hi and see what’s up.”

“Come on in. It’s way too cold outside to just stand around on the porch. I’ll go get us all something hot to drink.”

Stepping through the door into her living room, I mentally sighed as Helen went off towards the kitchen.

It’s not that I didn’t like Helen, or that I didn’t want to be here or anything. It’s just that I had a game with a New Years event that I had barely started and it would be ending in a couple days.

Sitting on the couch was a little girl about my age who had been playing with an old handheld until just a moment ago. When she finally noticed us, she had what I can only describe as an internal meltdown as she straightened herself out.

The look in her eyes in that very moment was more like a cornered animal than a kid’s. She looked like she was ready to lash out at anyone who made any sudden movements, rather than someone who was just meeting new neighbors.

She had a slightly petite frame, her shoulders going so stiff and tense when she saw us that they looked more like a statue’s than any living being’s. Her entire body was shaking, just barely noticeable if you were looking for it.

When Mom walked over and crouched down, she slowly extended her hand out to the shy girl as a greeting. Although the motion wasn’t hostile, the girl still flinched like she expected to be hit for no reason. It wasn’t huge or overly dramatic, but it was enough to be undeniable that it had happened.

But Mom just waited there for a moment, the gentile smile on her face unmoved, with her hand outstretched. The girl finally, and hesitantly, reached out her own hand; small and delicate with immaculate pink nails.

Her pink sweater looked pretty much brand new, her delicate hands just barely peeking out from the sleeves as she fidgeted nervously with her skirt and hair. She wore a matching pink skirt, which I’d also guess had never worn before. Her tights-clad legs were locked tightly together as they trembled, her feet spread apart as it bounced repeatedly. It was all she could do not to run for the door right then and there.

Her hair, the color an oak tree’s bark, was long and frizzy. Even at just a passing glance, her hair was clearly well taken care of. Strange as it may sound, it reminded me of a child’s teddy bear. Maybe the color, maybe just the way someone had taken such good care of it, like someone had poured their heart in soul into its upkeep. Like it was the last thing they could cling to, all they had that they could cherish. A final lifeline to their sanity.

Her eyes shone like the gray waters of the sea as it churns in the moonlight during a storm. Somehow catching every single shade of blue, you could almost see the waves as they churned and crashed against the shore. Someone should name a color after this girl.

Although they seemed very off putting at first, as fierce as the stormy sea at a glance, somehow I was drawn to them the more I looked.

“I’m sorry,” Helen broke the awkward silence, successfully almost giving me a heart attack, as she re-entered the room with a tray of drinks. As I quickly turned away, my face completely flushed and probably a similar shade to a firetruck, I realized I’d been literally staring into the girl’s eyes for only-God-knows-how-long. Oopsy?

As Helen set the tray of drinks down on the coffee table, I couldn’t help but think about how similar and yet how very different Helen and the girl seemed.

There was clearly a family resemblance. I mean sure, they had the same frizzy hair and maybe even a similar warmness in their blue eyes if you looked long enough.

But there was a true family resemblance going beyond that.

They both appeared to have the same kindness and compassion at their core. The desire to protect and hold dear what they loved. The same fiery and passionate inside, that fire that couldn’t be extinguished. That would proudly blaze on, fueled by love and passion.

The ever present difference was in how they carried themselves.

Helen was carefree and cheerful. Her eyes shone with kindness and compassion. She was the kind of person a lost child would look for on the street for help. She radiated an aura of trust and love, like a parent or grandparent should.

The girl, on the other hand, had about ten lawyers of nervousness. Although her uncontrollable shaking had stopped when Helen walked back into the room, she still looked ready to run. She averted her eyes down to her hot cocoa whenever someone looked in her general direction, and had a general ‘deer caught in the headlights’ aura.

Although I’d originally pegged her as cold and harsh inside, maybe even fierce, when I truly looked at her and thought about it, I had to wonder. Was my initial assessment right, or my random gut feeling? What was she really like when she got comfortable around someone?

“Where are my manners? I should have done introductions before I left. This is my youngest granddaughter Alexis,” Helen went on as she took a seat on the couch next to Alexis. “We were just waiting for the twins to get back before we headed out. Alexis, this is Carol and Artemis Jones; they live down the street.”

Giving an awkward one handed motion that may have been a wave, Alexis went back to nervously playing with her skirt. She kept her eyes locked onto the mug of cocoa.

“Anything special planned?” Mom asked after a long sip of her coffee.

“We were gonna head down to the mall,” Helen responded. “With all the moving and unpacking done, I figured we could all use some fun in our lives. Always paperwork and legalese to be done, but you can’t forget to have some fun in our lives can we?”

“I hear that,” Mom laughed as she then went on to talk about anything and everything the way adults do.

--- About an hour of boring adult conversation later ---

Ever just get so caught up in ignoring a conversation, or anything else I suppose, that your brain just kind of stops working for awhile? Well that’s what I’d managed to do, at least until the door opening gave me my second near heart attack of the day.

In walked two people, both around maybe thirteen or fourteen. Through my amazing powers of deduction, I identified them as two of the kids from the pictures scattered around the house. Although I didn’t care enough to make out what they were saying, they seemed to be in the middle of a debate.

Max, and I knew his name because of my amazing powers of deduction and also because I read it off of his nametag, was waving his arms and hands around as he talked.

He was tall and thin, like he was healthy but not all that athletic. His hair was chestnut in color, slightly longer than most boys. It was more like he didn’t have time for a haircut than a fashion statement. His eyes were like puddles of melted chocolate, with the emotion inside of them just as hard to read at a glance as Alexis’. They seemed to contain some layer of tragedy and mystery behind the happy and carefree expression he used as a cover that probably drove his female (and maybe some male) classmates crazy.

He wore a plain white t-shirt that he had probably pulled directly from the dryer that morning, and dark jeans that almost seemed to hang off his body. After noticing there were guests in the house, he didn’t completely freeze like Alexis. Actually, his body language didn’t change much, if at all. He just kept one hand in his pocket and a black jacket tucked under his right arm despite the insanely cold temperature that came with the end of December here in Central New York.

His twin, whose name tag read Cindy, had already worked her way behind the coach with her arms wrapped around Alexis in a protective manner.

Although obviously fraternal twins, they looked awfully similar. Her hair, the same color as her brother’s, was cut in a pixie style, directly drawing attention to her eyes. The same chocolatey shade as her brother’s with the same hidden look of tragic backstory and pain behind a soft, loving and caring gaze.

She, unlike her brother, apparently had the common sense to wear her jacket. Black as midnight and slightly unzipped at the top, revealing her white blouse.

“Well, I do believe we’ve imposed ourselves on you enough,” Mom announced with a smile as she started to get up. The smile, although it seemed natural enough, felt more like a clue or a reminder than just a normal action.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you guys are welcome here anytime,” Helen said before a light bulb seemed to pop into existence over her head. Either she had a terrible poker face, or she’d set this up beforehand and was a terrible actress. “In fact, why don’t you two come with us?”

--- Alexis Johnson, A Year and a Half Later, The Start of Summer Vacation ---

“Do you believe in fate?” The voice came from over the television’s speakers, the game’s loading screen still ever present on the screen.

Since the room was completely silent a second ago, I’d forgotten that voice chat was enabled at all. As the game was still on a loading screen the only thing present was a username in each corner; Faye099 and TheShadowSlayer respectively.

The question caught me so off guard, probably because neither of us ever really showed the capability to hold a serious conversation, that I almost choked to death on the pile of peanut butter M&Ms I had thrown in my mouth a second ago.

“I believe in Fire Emblem Fates,” I finally managed not to choke to death on the delicious candy. “Does that count for anything?”

“Not really,” the voice laughed back as the character selection screen came up. “Just a random thought. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Nothing important was said again until a few matches later, when the same voice spoke up at a time that didn’t involve me almost choking to death.

“Oh yeah, have you heard of Resistance or the Dreamscape?” The question was posed just as the character selection screen came up once again.

“Only just now when you said them,” I replied confused where that thought came from.

“I gotta run, but you should totally look into them.” The next sound to be heard the sound of the voice chat disconnecting me turning the game system off.

I have to admit I let my curiosity get the better of me next, grabbing my laptop off of the desk I kept it on.

Dreamscape- The technology dreams used to be made of, pun intended. The Dreamscape uses electromagnetic waves to not only shut down external senses to launch you into the world of the game you’ve selected; but also utilizes its ability to send false sensory data to your brain so you explore the game world as easily as if you were controlling your own body.

Resistance (also known as Resistance Online)- The most notable launch title for the Dreamscape, Resistance uses the newest in virtual reality technology. A First-Person Shooter VRMMORPG (Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game) which emphasises Player Vs Player combat as you fight for supremacy and to reclaim the barren wastelands of Earth. (And, just as a personal aside, doesn’t emphasizing player vs player fighting contradict the goal of reclaiming a barren Earth?)

Want to test the near miracle technology, brought to you by technology genius inventor and developer Jennifer Chase, before it’s Christmas 2022 release date? Then make sure to test out the demo version, available during E3 2021.

The next thing I did was look up E3 2021, but I didn’t get very far.

“E3, huh?” The voice, due to the fact that I was sure I was alone a second ago, almost stopped my heart cold.

Of course, the other half of the room was usually occupied by my older sister. I wasn’t use to being alone, even in my room. But she was currently at a chess club meeting, and this voice was much younger than her anyway.

I didn’t have many friends, I’m not exactly a people person, so I saved a lot of time in figuring out who was next to me.

“When did you…” I started to ask, before she cut me off.

“A couple minutes ago,” Artemis answered, still looking at my laptop’s screen from over my shoulder. “Mom’s talking to you grandma about something or other. I got bored. You didn’t hear me come in?”

Before I could reply to that, I was called into the kitchen by Grandma’s voice. Trying to remember if I’d done anything that would get me yelled at, I made my way out to the kitchen.

“...n’t know,” Grandma was mid-sentence by the time I got to the kitchen. “I mean, I have a business trip this week so maybe it’d be better…”

I’d honestly forgotten all about Grandma’s business trip this week. Being responsible for raising three kids, Grandma had greatly reduced how often she traveled for work. However, sometimes it just couldn’t be avoided.

Usually that just resulted in me being stuck with Cindy and Max, so I didn’t see why it was important. Of course, I had no idea what was going on.

“Alexis,” Grandma called me over when she saw me, making me think I really was in trouble. Did my report card already come in the mail? “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Even at eight and a half years old, I’d already heard the phrase ‘Life/The Lord works in mysterious ways’ more times than I can count. (Because I’ve heard it a lot, not because I can’t count very high.) I guess, given the circumstances, I can understand why everyone said it to me so much.

But I didn’t expect, in any way, to be invited on a vacation to the very convention I had just typed into my search engine.

--- E3, 6 Days Later at Precisely 1:07 P… No sorry, Precisely 1:08 PM ---

‘Hindsight is 20/20.’ My grandma use to say it all the time. It always seemed weird too, especially since she seemed to know exactly what was going to happen before it did.

But I couldn’t help but say it over and over again in my head right now. I should have realized that everyone within a sixty mile radius would be waiting in line for a chance to try the demo.

I probably had a better chance of being struck dead by lightning in that line than I had of making it to the front of it.

And, just to paint you a picture of what the line looked like, it mostly consisted of three different groups.

You had the gun fanatics, who probably consisted of maybe sixty percent of the people present. They were the ones only interested in the realism the game bragged about. Most of them were older than thirty, and almost entirely male.

Then there were the gamers, the maybe forty percent of the group who were drawn in by the game itself. Some had probably never played a shooter game in their life, and were purely drawn in by the technology. The age range here was slightly more diverse, some of the younger ones being around eighteen, but most were still men.

Oh, the third group? That would be me and Artemis, the 8 year old girls. We fit right in.

“Aren’t you kind of young to be here?” A woman’s voice asked, not particularly hostile but rather surprised. “What do two cute little girls want from a world of guns, smoke, and oil?”

‘A new life. A second chance. A new reality. A place where no one knows me. A place where I can matter, and make a difference. A chance to feel irreplaceable to someone. A world where I can be anything.’ I wanted to say, although I didn’t get the chance.

“Oh, sorry,” The woman spoke up before I could answer. “I didn’t mean to be rude. My name is Jennifer Chase.”