《Alterlife》 Chapter ONE - Bullets and Balls John¡¯s hands shake as he loads the magazine. A picture hangs in the rear-view of the green station wagon. It spins as a hot summer breeze blows through the open window; the faces of a woman and two children alternating with the blank white backing of the weathered photograph. Not now. John refused to look at it, willing himself to focus only on the bullets. Land of the free. The American dream. It had all been a lie. As the years flew by, his dream was slowly crushed by the ways of the world. Not my fault. Can¡¯t say I didn¡¯t try. Nervous fingers drop a round. Cursing, John leans to retrieve it from the floorboard, and bangs his head into the horn, causing pedestrians to stop and look. Grinding his teeth, John mutters another curse at himself as he straightens up, giving the impression that he¡¯s not about to do something stupid. Easing back into the seat, he realizes that nobody took much notice anyway. It was the lawyers, doctors, judges, and business folk that filled the sidewalks and crosswalks of downtown, and they didn¡¯t take much notice to anything other than themselves. They all walked the same way, talked the same way; like they were better than him. He knew robbing a downtown bank in broad daylight was the dumbest idea he¡¯d ever had, but he was out of options. And he figured something that crazy¡­ he might just get away with it. Sometimes you gotta go with balls instead of brains, he thought. Sweat beaded upon his brow as he looked at the entrance to the building and pushed the last bullet intothe magazine. One cop on the inside wouldn¡¯t be a problem. One wouldn¡¯t be, but there would be more within the span of three minutes, give or take twenty seconds. That was the response time to the bomb threat he called in last week, so he calculated it to be the same on a robbery. Eyes closed. The sweet smell of fresh cut grass. Photograph turning slowly. He refused to look at his family one last time, and gripped the mask that he would put over his face. John clenched the gun in his hands as he slammed the magazine into the pistol and took swift steps into the bank. *** The bank robbery didn''t go as planned. I couldn''t go through with it. No alarms sounded. The police didn''t show up. No high-speed chase ending in a glorious blaze of gunfire with thousands of hundred-dollar bills scattering across the freeway, fluttering in the breeze as I lie dying, face down on the cold pavement. No, John Crussel didn''t die today. Not because of the risk; I¡¯d do almost anything for my family¡ªgive my own life if need be. It wasn¡¯t the cop in the corner. From the looks of his age, he could barely aim a gun, let alone squeeze the trigger. And it wasn''t the average Joe carrying a pistol on his side that made me change my mind. He would have been the first to take a bullet to the head if he tried to be brave. And it wasn''t the bank teller who eyed me suspiciously as I patiently waited in line to hand her the robbery note. It was the picture of my wife and kids that hung in the mirror of my old, green station wagon that wouldn''t get out of my head. They were the reason that I didn''t pull the tucked pistol. They need me, and I can¡¯t leave them. I want to give them a better life; one better than I''d ever had or deserved. But I knew that robbing a bank, and getting away with it today, would be virtually impossible. I looked down, ashamed to have even come this close. There¡¯s got to be another way. Why am I even still standing in line? I thought. Get your act together, John, and get the hell out of here. I turned to leave, and that¡¯s when I heard them. "I can''t believe you made that much money from playing a damn video game," a man standing behind me in line for the bank teller had said. "Five thousand. Easy money," the other man bragged. I stayed put and kept my back to them, listening. "From a video game," the first man stated, his tone heavy with disbelief. "Yep. Can even transfer money from your bank account into the game if you want. But it''s not what you¡¯d think a normal game would be. There''s real-life consequences," the man said, and began talking about the details of the game. ¡°Next,¡± the teller called. Alterlife, he called it. A virtual reality, massive, multi-player, online, role playing game. VRMMORPG for short. ¡°Sir. Next,¡± she called again. ¡°You¡¯re next in line,¡± the guy behind me said. ¡°Oh, right.¡± I stepped to the counter. ¡°How can I help you today?¡± she asked. Without saying a word, I grabbed a dum-dum sucker, cotton candy flavor, and held it up to her with appreciation. I left the bank, my mind reeling with the possibility of making money from a game. I''ve the slightest idea of what a VRMM-whatever is, but I''m willing to try it out. It''s a damn video game. How hard could it be? Couldn''t be any worse than robbing a bank. Safely back inside my car, I let out a sigh of relief. I took the picture of my family in my hands and pressed it to my lips. ¡°Thank you.¡± *** I used to be a gamer back in the day, and always thought myself quite good. A quick learner from an early age, not many of my friends could beat me. Had a NES when I was five. Xbox in my twenties. But when the kids came into my life, I quit gaming. There''s not enough time in the day when you''re struggling to keep a roof over your family''s head and food on the table. I¡¯ve been working construction for the past ten years, and have recently been taking jobs on the road because the money¡¯s good. But it seems that there¡¯s always another job to take, another dollar to make, somewhere. Luckily, I¡¯ve had a road job close to home now for the past couple of months, and have been able to eat supper with my wife and kids every night. I don¡¯t care how nice the hotel is, there¡¯s nothing like sleeping in your own bed. I wish I could have that every night. I fire up the car and hit the streets of Johnson City, Tennessee in search for the nearest store that might carry the game. To my surprise, and even more to my dismay, the first three stores were sold out. Driving down the bypass, I see a billboard advertising Alterlife¡ª¡°Your Dream Life is Waiting. What Are You Waiting For? Live It Now.¡± It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever seen a game advertised on a billboard before. I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t take notice before today. This game must be bigger than I thought. I¡¯m probably so far behind the curve now, I¡¯ll never catch up to the competition. Another missed opportunity. Still, I¡¯ve got to try. I pull into the mall and head to the game store, knowing all too well that it¡¯ll likely be sold out there, too. I quickly walk into the place with my hood pulled over my head and hands in my pockets like I¡¯m about to do a drug deal in some back alley. Funny, because I¡¯ve never used drugs before. Never even took a drink of alcohol. Every time I tell someone that, they look at me like I¡¯m either bullshitting or crazy. Call me a weirdo, I don¡¯t care. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Another empty game display case. Shit. I shake my head and turn to leave. ¡°Can I help you?¡± the clerk asks. A young man with short, bleached hair -- black roots showing underneath -- and bleached eyebrows. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know when the next shipment of Alterlife comes in, would you?¡± I ask him, approaching the counter. He laughs in reply. ¡°Good one, man.¡± I glare at him and he stops laughing. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re serious. I¡¯m sorry, but I have no idea. Last I heard, there won¡¯t be another delivery until later next year.¡± ¡°Next year? What a crock of shit. Why advertise a game if you don¡¯t make enough copies for everyone to buy?¡± I bite back. He shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s a hot game. Everyone¡¯s playing it,¡± he replies as though I should know. ¡°Maybe the game creator didn¡¯t think it would take off like it did?¡± The heat rises to my face and I come to realize that this guy can¡¯t help me. ¡°Guess not. To hell with it then.¡± I turn to leave. ¡°Wait,¡± he calls before I go and motions me to the corner of the counter. He leans in close and keeps the conversation between us. ¡°Listen, I wasn¡¯t going to say anything, but you seem like you really want the game.¡± His eyes shift around the room, then find mine again. ¡°I got a copy, but it¡¯ll cost you.¡± ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Five hundred.¡± ¡°Five hundred dollars! Are you kidding me?¡± He looks around nervously and puts his hand up to shush me. ¡°Keep it down, man. Jeez. Look, do you want the game or not? You won¡¯t find one for any cheaper than that, I can promise you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have that kind of money. Even if I did, I wouldn¡¯t spend it on a stupid video game.¡± I leave before things escalate between my fist and his face. The clerk holds his hands up. ¡°Suit yourself, man. If you change your mind, you know where to find me,¡± he calls to my back as I exit the store. *** The virtual reality system ¨C NewVue ¨C costs five-hundred bucks by itself. A grand just to play a damn video game. No way I¡¯m doing that. Don¡¯t have that kind of money anyway. Even if I did, Jenny would kill me. Through the city streets and out into the country I drive, taking my time. Across the green rolling hills, I take the long way home five miles under the speed limit, thoroughly enjoying the five-dollar cup of coffee that makes me feel better for pissing my Saturday away. I used what change I could scrounge out of the car so Jenny wouldn¡¯t notice it on the bank statement. Out of all the things I could have been doing on my day off, I¡¯m running around town trying to find a video game that I think can make me a lot of money. ¡°Damn, John. You¡¯ve finally hit rock bottom.¡± I laugh at myself. ¡°First you try to rob a bank, then this¡­¡± I didn¡¯t actually try to rob the bank. It never got to that point. I shake my head, knowing this whole video game thing is a bunch of nonsense. I pull into a gas station to throw the coffee cup in the trashcan that¡¯s by the pump, then turn down the old dirt road that leads me home. The familiar sound of gravel crunching under my tires comforts me. It lets me know I¡¯m home. Rent is six-hundred a month. But for a three bed/two bath, that¡¯s about the best I could find. As long as my wife and kids are safe and there¡¯s food in the cupboards, I¡¯m a happy man. ¡°It¡¯s a man¡¯s responsibility to take care of his family. They come first, you come last,¡± my old man once told me. Those words have stuck ever since. He always made sure Ma and us kids were fed and clothes were on our backs, leaving little for himself other than the bottle. Sometimes I wonder if getting drunk was all he ever wanted. Suppose that¡¯s why I¡¯ve never taken a drink. I¡¯m not like you. Kicking one of the porch steps, it¡¯s in need of repair. I¡¯ll have to get on that soon. ¡°Jenny, kiddos, I¡¯m home!¡± ¡°Daddy!¡± my youngest screams and hugs my leg. Doctors said she wouldn¡¯t live to see her first birthday. Now, Carla¡¯s three going on four. I drop my lunchbox and pick her up in my arms. ¡°Carla. Daddy missed you so much. How was your day at preschool today?¡± I place her down as she talks. ¡°I played soccer. And ate all my lunch!¡± ¡°That¡¯s my girl,¡± I praise, rubbing her on the head. ¡°Did you score a goal?¡± She shakes her head. ¡°No. Not today.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay. There¡¯s always tomorrow,¡± I tell her and brush her cheek with my thumb. ¡°Hey, pop,¡± Ben greets me from the couch in the living room. ¡°Hey, punk.¡± I steal the changer out of his hand and gently shove his head. ¡°How about you help your mother with the dishes instead of watching TV? Look at her slaving away over the stove while you sit on your ass.¡± Passing the dining room table, I walk to my wife. If you¡¯d ask her, she¡¯d say the house is a wreck, supper is burning, and she¡¯s a hot mess. But she¡¯d be wrong. The house isn¡¯t that bad, the food is fine, and she¡¯s the most beautiful woman in the world. ¡°Hey, baby.¡± She shakes her head at me while frantically stirring a pan of meat sauce. ¡°I¡¯m sorry supper isn¡¯t ready yet. It¡¯s been a crazy¡­¡± ¡°Come here,¡± I interrupt and pull her close. After we kiss, she smiles and giggles like we¡¯re twenty years old again. She turns back to the stove. ¡°How was work? You¡¯re a little later than usual.¡± I didn¡¯t go to work, Jenny. I lied to you because I didn¡¯t want you to know that I was planning on robbing a bank today. That¡¯s what I should have said. I should¡¯ve told her the truth. ¡°You know, just another day. Thankful for the overtime.¡± ¡°Well, can¡¯t say we don¡¯t need the money right now.¡± She gives me a peck on the cheek. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re home.¡± ¡°Me too.¡± I look at the pile of dishes in the sink. ¡°Dammit, Ben. If I have to tell you one more time to get in here and do these dishes, no more TV for a week.¡± He throws his arms out in frustration. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m coming!¡± I knuckle his head. ¡°Arghh! Quit it!¡± I wrap him up tight. ¡°I love you.¡± ¡°Love you, too, pop,¡± he wheezes out. A glass of milk is my ritual when I get home; has been ever since I was a kid. Except there¡¯s none in the fridge. ¡°We forget to buy milk?¡± ¡°No. We just didn¡¯t have the money for milk this week,¡± Jenny replies. I close the fridge. ¡°Devin just paid me back. What about that money? I gave you that hundred bucks. Where¡¯d it go?¡± ¡°Where does any money ever go, John?¡± She looks at me with spatula in hand, waiting for an answer. ¡°Bills, John. Bills.¡± ¡°Oh, you mean those things that keep sucking our bank account dry?¡± I play. She shakes her head with a grin and turns back to cooking. ¡°Yeah, those.¡± I wrap my arms around her waist and cradle her stomach. ¡°We¡¯ll be alright, babe. I promise. We always find a way.¡± She touches my hand. ¡°I know we will. And yes, we do always find a way.¡± She forces a smile. I hate when she does that; hate when she pretends that things are okay. Walking to the pantry, I feel the financial burden sinking in, like a rope tied to a heavy stone that¡¯s dragging me under water. I need to make some money fast. Maybe I could ask the boss man if I could get some overtime. Work has been slow lately, but maybe he can do me a solid. It¡¯s been a few months¡­ I could donate my plasma again. Last time I got sick, though. Or I could ask Mr. Jones at the end of the road if he needs anything fixed up around the house. The man from the bank comes into mind. I can¡¯t get his words out of my head. ¡°Five thousand. Easy money.¡± ¡°John. Did you hear me?¡± ¡°Huh? Yeah, I heard you, babe.¡± ¡°I hate it when you do that.¡± ¡°Hate it when I do what?¡± I ask, letting go of the pantry door, turning to her in ignorance. ¡°When you¡¯re not here, with us. When you¡¯re not present. Your mind wanders off, and I swear that sometimes, you¡¯ll just be gazing off for minutes at a time.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s exaggerating a bit, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t. Now, can you please go and help your daughter like I asked multiple times? I¡¯ve got to finish cooking.¡± My son will back me up. ¡°Ben, was I dazing off?¡± Rinsing a dish, he runs his head to reply. ¡°She asked you three times, dad.¡± I throw my hands up and go put Carla in the bath. When she¡¯s all washed up and drying off with the towel, I make her a promise. ¡°Daddy¡¯s gonna make everything okay. I promise. I¡¯m going to give you a great life. Nothing is going to stop you from living the way you want to live. Nobody is going to say what you can or can¡¯t do. I won¡¯t let them. I promise.¡± She looks up to me with her big brown eyes. ¡°Everything is already okay, daddy. You¡¯re home now with me and mommy and brother. I love you.¡± She hugs my neck then runs off to get dressed. I remain kneeling on the floor, watch the water drain. Thinking. The innocence of a child is so special. They¡¯re not jaded by the world yet. *** I spend Sunday with my family, and try to take my mind off of the black cloud of financial depression that¡¯s hanging over me. It helps to watch Carla laugh as she frolics around the playground. No worries, no responsibilities, no pressure. Just being a kid. Enjoying living. Two other kids run up to her, and Carla takes off after them. ¡°Looks like Carla made some new friends,¡± Jenny says happily. I was like that once. Carefree and full of life. But life has a way of beating you down. Just as persistent waters pound on rock, time erodes away at you and the next thing you know, you¡¯re on the closer half of seventy. Working for the man takes priority, determining how you spend your time and who you spend it with. Hell, I see the guys at work more than I do my own family on a daily basis. Something about that doesn¡¯t seem right and has always felt wrong to me. And time keeps ticking. The days and the weeks seem like a slog, but the years fly by¡ªsomething the old-timers have always told me. Living as long as I have, I now have to say that I agree with them. And now that I¡¯ve lived long enough to grow a little wiser, I can feel the years speeding up as I get older. On a calendar they look linear, but I swear it¡¯s more of an exponential gain. Jenny¡¯s grabbing us a couple of hotdogs from a food truck, and Ben¡¯s staring at his phone. If it¡¯s not television or video games at the house, it¡¯s the damn cellphone. Always looking at a screen. It wasn¡¯t how I grew up, and I thought I would give him the same upbringing. Suppose times change and you can¡¯t give them everything you¡¯d like. Jenny wanted him to have a phone. Says it¡¯s for his safety. At least he has a part-time job to pay for it. Sunday is family day. And it¡¯s over in the blink of an eye, spent largely in part by dreading the beginning of a new work week. Sunday night, my wife and I watch TV in the bed. Don¡¯t say a whole lot. Both knowing we gotta work tomorrow. Monday. Monday¡¯s are a bitch. Chapter TWO - A New Life I¡¯ve always been good with machines. I can operate anything from an eighteen-wheeler to an excavator. If it drives, digs, or hauls, I can handle it. My last foreman has been moving dirt for over thirty years, and told me that I¡¯m one of the best operators he¡¯s ever seen. This new foreman is an asshole. Now the little asshole with his short comb-over hair is pointing at my window with a clipboard and giving me a stupid look. I turn the machine off, open the cab door, and jump onto the soggy, wet ground. He basically yells at me. ¡°What the hell¡¯s going on? This was supposed to be graded by last Wednesday.¡± I want to punch him in the face. Instead, I give an exaggerated look around the job site. ¡°Been raining the past two weeks. Can¡¯t grade when it¡¯s muddy, boss.¡± He steps up to me. ¡°I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s muddy, or snowy, or dry, or whatever. You see this paper?¡± He taps on his clipboard repeatedly. ¡°This says it was supposed to be done by last Wednesday.¡± I cock my head. ¡°What the paper says and what¡¯s real life are two different things. Any man who¡¯s ever worked construction can tell you that,¡± I reply, putting an extra touch of sarcasm on the word ¡®worked¡¯. He glares at me. ¡°You getting smart with me? You wanna go talk to Mr. Lee?¡± I grin. ¡°I would love to. You lead the way.¡± He clenches his jaw then spits after realizing that he¡¯s lost. He knows, just like I know, that Mr. Lee values my skill as an operator and can¡¯t afford to lose me. He points a finger at my face. ¡°I¡¯m watching you. Just get the job done.¡± I point a finger at his back as he walks away¡ªthe middle one¡ªthen turn it, point up. Of all the weeks to quit chewing tobacco¡­ I sure could use some nicotine right now. Sunflower seeds will have to do. They¡¯re much cheaper. Healthier too, I guess. The backhoe fires back up and I get back to work. I made good progress for the day, but had little time to think about how to solve my money problems. The game keeps grinding at me, the man in the bank¡ªhis voice echoing through my head. It takes money to make money. I toss my hard hat into the front seat of my old single-cab pickup truck and open my red cooler. Ham and cheese sandwich, small bag of chips, cookie for desert¡ªthe contractor pack, as I¡¯ve always called it. Been eating the same thing for years, with little variation. It¡¯s cheap and easy. Fifteen minutes later, I go back to work. The hours pass by quick when you¡¯re busy. And that¡¯s a good thing. Before I know it, it¡¯s quitting time. The work day comes to an end and I¡¯ve got a plan on how I can make some quick cash. Enough to pay for the console and the game, anyway. Climbing the steps into the construction trailer, I knock on the boss¡¯s door. ¡°Come in.¡± ¡°Mr. Lee,¡± I greet him, hard hat tucked under my arm. He stands from his office chair behind the desk littered with blueprints. ¡°Hey, John. You doin¡¯ alright? Here, have a seat,¡± he offers, extending his hand towards the chair opposite from him. I sit down and try to summon the courage to ask him for an advance. ¡°I¡¯m okay, sir.¡± ¡°And work¡¯s going good?¡± he asks and sits back down in his large, brown executive office chair. ¡°Other than the rain, can¡¯t complain.¡± I don¡¯t tell him about the new asshole of a foreman he has working for him. Yet. He nods. ¡°Shit weather to work in, that¡¯s for sure. But I¡¯m gathering you¡¯re not here to talk about the weather, are you?¡± ¡°I need an advance on my next paycheck.¡± He looks at me like I¡¯m crazy. ¡°I just paid you three days ago. Damn, John, you know I can¡¯t give you an advance so soon. We¡¯re behind on work and the GC is already riding my ass, threatening to withhold payment until our job¡¯s done.¡± ¡°Mr. Lee, I¡¯ve never asked you for anything in the past and have rarely missed a day¡¯s work. But I¡¯m asking you for a favor now. Just this one time, please. I need the money right now something awful. You know I wouldn¡¯t have asked if I didn¡¯t.¡± He looks out his window dotted with rain drops and rubs his chin. ¡°I know you wouldn¡¯t have. Family issues?¡± ¡°Something like that.¡± He turns back to me. ¡°Damn, John. I like you. You¡¯re the best operator I got and you always show up on time; which is rare these days, let me tell you.¡± He looks out the window again, contemplating whether or not to loan me the money. ¡°Please, Mr. Lee. Anything you can do will help more than you know. Swear I¡¯ll never ask again.¡± He sighs and turns back to me. ¡°I can¡¯t give you an advance on a paycheck, John. I¡¯m sorry. The company just doesn¡¯t have it.¡± My heart sinks. I gather up what¡¯s left of my pride and stand to leave. ¡°But,¡± he adds and pulls out his wallet. ¡°As a personal friend, I can loan you some of my own money.¡± He opens it up and pulls out a stack of large bills. ¡°How much do you need?¡± My eyes go wide with hope. ¡°A thousand,¡± I croak out. ¡°A thousand!¡± he exclaims. ¡°And here I thought you were going to ask to borrow fifty bucks.¡± He shakes his head and begins laying hundred dollar bills on top of one another, counting. ¡°One thousand dollars.¡± He collects the money and walks around his desk to meet me. ¡°Here. Take it.¡± My hand shakes as I reach for it. He pulls the money back before I can touch it. ¡°And you¡¯ll pay it back in full, yes?¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I promise him. ¡°Pay it back as soon as possible.¡± ¡°Five hundred over the next two paychecks,¡± he says and hands it to me. It feels like a million bucks in my hand. ¡°Yes, sir, I¡¯ll pay it back in time,¡± I tell him and shake his hand. ¡°Thank you, sir. You don¡¯t know how much this means to me and my family. Thank you.¡± ¡°Alright, go on then,¡± he says and ushers me out the door. ¡°Before you start asking for more.¡± He pats me on the back before I leave. ¡°And John. Keep up the good work.¡± ¡°Will do, Mr. Lee.¡± I reply, smiling in appreciation. Riding home in the truck, I feel the weight of the world has just lifted. ¡°And how about that,¡± I say to myself, thinking back on what Mr. Lee just did. ¡°I think that¡¯s the nicest thing anyone¡¯s ever done for me.¡± The rain clouds part and a beam of sunlight breaks through. Things are about to change¡­ you¡¯ll see. Ol¡¯ John Crussel¡¯s luck is finally about to change. Now I just have to find a way to make a thousand dollars in the game over the next two weeks to cover the cost of this debt before Jenny finds out. *** The next morning, I roll out of bed and jump in the shower, wrap a towel around myself when I¡¯m through, and greet my wife with a smile and a kiss. And a little extra pat on her behind for good measure. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you in a good mood this morning,¡± she says with a giggle, already dressed and ready to take the kids to school. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a good day,¡± I tell her, following her into the kitchen. ¡°By the way, you look beautiful.¡± ¡°And a charmer at that. What¡¯s got you so chipper?¡± she asks and throws the kids¡¯ lunch boxes in their backpacks. I open the fridge, then remember that we¡¯re still out of milk. I need to make some fast money in that game somehow. This milk shortage is getting old fast. ¡°Just happy to still be above ground, babe. You and the kids are all I need.¡± She turns to me and smiles with gratitude. ¡°I feel the same way.¡± At the front door, with the kids already in the car, she kisses me goodbye before she goes to work at that shithole diner. ¡°I gotta go. I¡¯ll see you tonight,¡± she tells me, a hint of something more by the way she touches my chest, the promise in her tone. I hold both her arms. ¡°One day you won¡¯t have to go to that diner anymore, Jenny. I promise you that I¡¯ll do everything in my power to make that so.¡± She touches my cheek. ¡°I know, sweetheart. But right now, it helps pay the bills. It¡¯s a job. And it¡¯s not so bad. I¡¯ll see you later.¡± I don¡¯t tell her that I¡¯m calling in to work sick. With thirty hours of paid vacation left, I can take the rest of the week off to focus on the game and she¡¯ll never know the difference. After she pulls down the drive, I fire up the truck and head back to see the punk at the mall to buy the game. Hoodie pulled over and wet from the rainstorm outside. He sees me coming and slaps both hands on the counter. ¡°I knew you¡¯d be back. I saw it in your eyes. And I know a desperate man when I see one,¡± the smart ass says with a grin. I slap my hand on the counter. ¡°Just shut up and give me the game.¡± He steps back, sour-faced. ¡°Rude much? You got the money?¡± I pull the rolled-up cash from my pocket and give him a peek. ¡°Five hundred. Just like you said.¡± He holds his hands up. ¡°Whoa, buddy. I said six hundred.¡± ¡°You said five,¡± I spit back and lean over the counter towards him, fully intent on pounding this kid¡¯s face in. ¡°I swear to god, I¡¯ll stomp your ass the minute you get off of work. I got the money you asked for, now do you have the game or not?¡± He shakes his head and laughs. ¡°Hey man, take it easy. I¡¯m only jerking your chain.¡± He reaches behind the desk and looks around nervously. The store¡¯s empty, except for a mom browsing through the game section with her kid. They¡¯re not paying attention to us. We go to make the trade. ¡°They don¡¯t even have it,¡± the brat shouts. ¡°Nobody has it!¡± The mom storms to the counter, dragging the kid by the arm. ¡°Do you have a copy of Alterlife?¡± The punk clerk quickly hides the game behind his back and shakes his head slowly. She snorts. ¡°Well, can you at least tell me where I can find one, then?¡± He stares at her blankly and shakes his head again. ¡°Come on, mom. This is a stupid store anyway,¡± the kid demands and jerks her arm. The mom sighs in desperation, then leaves with the child, arguing with him that she¡¯s doing the best she can to find the game. The clerk narrows his eyes, glaring at them as they leave. ¡°Fuck that kid.¡± Turning his attention back to me, he slides the game across the counter. There¡¯s no wrap on the case. ¡°What the hell? It¡¯s been used.¡± I slide it back. ¡°If I¡¯m paying you five hundred dollars, then I expect it to be a new, unopened game.¡± He leans on the counter and looks at me, serious. ¡°Look, man. It¡¯s all I got. If you can find something better somewhere else, then by all means, go ahead.¡± ¡°If something¡¯s wrong with it, I want my money back.¡± He holds his hands up, as if to be relieved from the game. ¡°Sorry, man. No returns.¡± He swipes the cash from my hand and goes back to work. As I open the case to make sure the game is there, he speaks over his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s probably for the best if we never see each other again.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. I tuck the game into my hoodie pocket. ¡°Are you serious?¡± He gives me a stern look. ¡°We never saw each other. Catch my drift?¡± I scoff. ¡°Whatever. See you in the ¡®Alterlife¡¯,¡± I tell him, mocking the whole ordeal. Outside the shop, I turn back and find the clerk standing still behind the counter, staring at me. Creepy little bastard. One quick stop later and I have the system in my possession, since those can be found almost anywhere. Time to hit my buddy¡¯s place up and get to work. Thankfully, he left me the code to his apartment and said he¡¯s working first shift now. Told me to make myself at home. It¡¯s close to town, a duplex, and I¡¯m told the neighbor isn¡¯t around much. That makes me feel a little better since the place is in a rough part of town. I¡¯d rather not have anyone around while I¡¯m in virtual reality. Lockbox, key, open door. The inside smells like cigarettes and dirty laundry. It¡¯s a mess, as most bachelor pads are, but I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ve seen worse. And it doesn¡¯t matter, once I¡¯m inside of VR, I won¡¯t be looking at this place anyway. I sit down in his brown, worn out La-Z-Boy recliner and begin to open the New Vue. The packaging is slick. Probably one of the reasons it¡¯s such a big seller over the cheaper-competition virtual reality consoles. People love their damn packaging. Personally, I¡¯ve never cared about it. Just more crap to throw in the trash. I pull the small box that says ¡®New Vue¡¯ out from the foam packing. I open the box and hold what looks like a pair of contact lenses up for inspection. I looked the system up online but that doesn¡¯t compare to holding it in your hands. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. How freaking cool is this!¡± Just recently, I didn¡¯t even know technology like this existed. Reading the quick start guide, a new wireless connection that¡¯s touted to be much faster and more reliable than Bluetooth is what links the New Vue to the power source that straps onto the user¡¯s chest. I set the lenses down and pick through the rest of the package. The power supply is connected to a regular 120v outlet and from there, the Brainwave is powered¡ªa flexible cap that¡¯s supposed to drive the experience and mimic real life. From what I¡¯ve read on a couple of forums, that¡¯s what makes this VR system so popular. The brain receives everything from the virtual world and processes it through the cap, making it feel real. The big, white disclaimer on the box says that it¡¯s safe to use, though, and that ¡®any interactions in a virtual world are a fabricated representation and nothing more¡¯¡­ whatever that means. I recently read that this one guy jumped off a cliff in VR just to see what would happen. Nothing did. ¡°I woke up from what felt like a dream,¡± he¡¯d said. But others say that the mind makes it real, and there are even some reports of people dying from using the machine. Whether or not that¡¯s correlated to dying in VR, nobody knows. There haven¡¯t been any reports to confirm. But one group on Facebook claimed that the deaths were true and the government was behind the cover up because if people knew the truth, nobody would buy the system and sales would tank. Oddly enough, that group¡¯s page got shut down shortly after making the claim. Unpackaged and ready to go, I stand back in excitement. ¡°This is the coolest thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± I plug up the power supply, strap it on, and pull the elastic Brainwave over my head, which is equipped with its own patented surround sound. My hands rub together in anticipation and I remove my glasses to try on the New Vue lenses. Luckily, I¡¯ve worn contacts for years, but I can imagine the frustration of someone who hasn¡¯t. They¡¯re slightly rigid, unlike a regular lens, which I can already tell will take some getting used to. I open Alterlife and am still surprised that the game looks like a credit card, too big to be streamed. Kudos to the gaming industry for making this into what it is today. I still remember the old cartridge games the size of a piece of bread that you had to blow the dust out of just to get to work. I press the blue button in the middle of the power supply and the cover opens up. The game inserts into the power supply, and the cover closes itself over top. Oh, and did I mention that it¡¯s voice activated? ¡°New Vue, on.¡± The lenses power up causing the room to suddenly go black, and I¡¯m immersed in darkness. A small, green light pulses in front of me and a female voice says ¡®power on.¡¯ ¡°System setup: Choose a name for your New Vue system,¡± she tells me. I laugh. ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Seriously,¡± she repeats. ¡°Is this name correct?¡± ¡°No. Change name.¡± ¡°Alright. Please tell me the name of your New Vue system.¡± ¡°Is this your name? Is this what I¡¯ll be calling you?¡± I ask her. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then I will let you choose your own name.¡± ¡°Random name generated. System name: Jill ¡°Would you prefer my voice to be different?¡± ¡°No. You¡¯re voice sounds lovely. Kind of hot, really, Jill.¡± ¡°Voice set, confirmed. Awaiting command.¡± ¡°Play Alterlife.¡± The pulsing green light disperses into countless tiny dots before fading away, leaving me in darkness again. The Alterlife banner appears to a catchy theme song and it feels like I¡¯m front row at a symphony concert. Beautiful scenery appears, something like New Zealand. I expect a menu to navigate from; something like ¡®Start¡¯ or ¡®Options¡¯, but instead, the logo and the scenery disappears, and I find myself standing next to a fountain in a crowded town street. And in that moment, it hits me and I realize virtual reality for the first time. In real life, I¡¯m sitting in a chair; in the game, I¡¯m standing next to a fountain. I look around with amazement, fully immersed in this other world. The town has an early European feel to it with cobblestone streets, buildings, and shops made from stone and brick with wood tile roofs. Looking closer, I see the signs posted in front of them ¡®Inn¡¯, ¡®Tavern¡¯, ¡®Blacksmith¡¯, ¡®Goods¡¯. Some people are walking about, while others are running around the square, stopping by each shop to browse their wares. More than a handful are like me, standing and looking around in awe. A person suddenly materializes a few paces from where I stand. Like a newborn babe, he looks around the world in amazement and dismay. A fine dressed, middle-aged gentlemen with blonde hair walks towards us. ¡°Ah, newbies. Always nice to see new faces in Alterlife. May I ask your names?¡± ¡°Pigslayer19,¡± the burly man beside me says without hesitation. The gentlemen writes the name down in a ledger and looks to me. ¡°And yours?¡± I ponder for a moment. I¡¯ve always struggled with naming my characters. Even as a child playing the original NES, I would just use the name of another character in some other game. For years, I used Kain from the Final Fantasy series. Come to think of it, the most original name I ever came up with was ¡®Ace¡¯. Which isn¡¯t original at all. Why not? ¡°Ace.¡± He jots the name down. ¡°Very well. I am Gamemaster Deakins. If any of you need any assistance, say the words ¡®Summon Gamemaster¡¯ and someone will attend to you shortly. Is there anything I can help you with today?¡± ¡°Yeah. Where¡¯s the whorehouses I¡¯ve heard everyone talk about?¡± Pigslayer19 asks. I shake my head in disbelief, stifling a chuckle. The gamemaster smiles, turns, and points across the street. ¡°Third building on the left. Ask the woman at the desk how much a night of pleasure costs.¡± The man runs off in a rush of excitement. When he¡¯s gone, Deakins laughs. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many people ask that when they first come here.¡± He watches as the man walks into the third building, turns to me with a knowing grin, and waits. I move to speak but he holds a hand up to stop me as he counts. ¡°Five, four, three, two, one...¡± Pigslayer19 bursts from the door, shoved by a rather large woman wearing leather armor. He hits the ground and scrambles away before she can throttle him any more. Deakins slaps his knee and laughs. ¡°Gets them every time.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a whorehouse?¡± He points at the woman. ¡°That is Eldra, the town¡¯s Beasthunter. She¡¯s used to hunting timberwolves and bears for those with enough coin to hire her skills. Still, I get a kick out of people who come here looking for that sort of good time. It clearly says that this game is rated ¡®suitable for all ages¡¯ on the package. Can¡¯t have a twelve year old named pigslayer19 immersed in total realism, now can we? That just wouldn¡¯t be right,¡± he says with a hint of humor. I can see that this man knows a lot about this world and holds valuable information. ¡°So you say hiring Eldra would be a good place to start for a newcomer?¡± From my early years of gaming, I know that animal hides, or pelts as they¡¯re called, are worth money. The meat can also be sold or eaten to replenish vitality. I¡¯m not sure about the game mechanics in this world yet, though. Do I have hit points? Is there a life bar that I¡¯m missing somewhere? ¡°She would be a good place to start, yes. She accommodates all skill levels.¡± ¡°What can you tell me about this place?¡± I ask, looking around. He tilts his head. ¡°Did you not follow the tutorial?¡± he replies. ¡±Must have missed that part.¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite alright. I¡¯ll load it for you.¡± He pulls what looks like a book from the satchel bag that he carries, opens the tome, and begins touching the pages like it¡¯s a tablet. When he¡¯s done, he meets my eye and smiles. ¡°Have fun.¡± No sooner than he says the words, I¡¯m transported to another place and time, finding myself inside of a metal globe, or sphere-like room, and there¡¯s a tall, thin door on the other side of the small space. I speak. ¡°Hello?¡± Words begin to appear in front of me and bounce up and down in the air, alternating with animations in their own respects for demonstration. They¡¯re simple commands like jump, sit, walk, use right hand, use left hand. By saying the word ¡®items¡¯, I can access my inventory and see what goods I have on my person. Supposedly, a character can carry up to three hundred items, and up to five hundred pounds before becoming overweight. If this happens, dexterity and stamina are reduced until the set point is reached. Basically, get rid of some shit. The word ¡®equip¡¯ brings up the weapon and armor list, along with what my character is equipped with--including any enchantments or artifacts. Right now, I can see that I¡¯m wearing a cotton tunic and light cotton pants. I recall the forums, and understand that there are magic-imbued weapons and armor to be had as I progress through the game. That¡¯s where the money¡¯s at. Those rare items are what I¡¯m looking for. ¡®Health¡¯ brings up a hitpoint bar that I can either hide or display on my HUD, or head¡¯s up display, along with a ¡®stamina¡¯ bar. ¡®Map¡¯ brings up the world map and highlights where I¡¯ve recently been. A nice feature in case I ever get lost. Then the real kicker hits. The words need only be spoken once. From there, the game learns the user and everything is controlled by my mind. For instance, if I develop my character to become a mage, I cast a fireball by simply thinking it and aiming for whatever target I want to hit instead of speaking the words ¡®cast fireball, use right hand¡¯. Very cool. The fighter class has skills like ¡®dash¡¯ that are also controlled at will by the mind. The tutorial is basic on character classes, but reassures me that there are many more and that the world of Alterlife will answer any questions I may have in time. This is just a basic overview of how to operate in the world. This is unreal. It asks me if I would like to replay any of the content provided in the tutorial. ¡°No. I¡¯m ready to dive in.¡± The thin door opens and I walk into the white light. I¡¯m transported back into the game, standing beside the fountain. Gamemaster Deakins is no longer there, nowhere to be seen. On the edge of the fountain, there¡¯s a note. I pick it up. ¡°Go see Eldra,¡± it reads. Walking to the door of her shop, I¡¯m a little nervous. Could Deakins be playing a trick on me now? I go through the open door and see the big woman sharpening a hunting knife with a whetstone. Red, thick hair and standing six foot tall, she raises her eyes to meet mine. ¡°I swear to Thal, if you ask me about a good time I¡¯m going to skin you with this knife.¡± She points it at me to make her point, then returns to honing it on the stone. ¡°I¡¯ve got no time for that, Eldra,¡± I reply and look around the barren shop at a sparse supply of heavily-used swords, spears, bows and arrows. The place smells like old wood and leather. Her eyes raise from her work to meet mine. ¡°Then you must be here for a hunt. That¡¯s what I do; see the sign out front? It says ¡®Eldra the Hunter ¨C Guided Hunts and Adventures.¡¯ Not Eldra the Whore.¡± I smile at her. ¡°You keep what you kill,¡± I add, repeating the smaller words on the bottom of the sign. She runs a finger across the blade to test its edge, then puts it away in one of her many sheaths that she wears. ¡°Well, at least you can read. There¡¯s my prices. Let me know what you decide,¡± she tells me, pointing to a wood sign near the desk, then goes to the back of the shop. I walk closer to get a look. Five gold coins for a small game hunt. Ten for boar. Fifty for wolf. One hundred for bear. Apparently, Alterlife deals in gold coins, much like most other video games. She walks to the back of the counter and places her hands on the table. They¡¯re larger and stronger than most men¡¯s hands, and I imagine they could crush about anything she laid them on. ¡°So, made up your mind yet? What¡¯ll it be, newbie?¡± I¡¯ve got no time for the small stuff. ¡°How much to hunt a dragon?¡± ¡°A dragon?¡± she barks back and sizes me up with a chuckle. ¡°A noob like you would do best to hunt rabbits. There¡¯s not a soul in Alterlife that can take on a dragon by themselves. Only one that¡¯s ever been killed was done so by a raiding party over a hundred strong.¡± I lean on the counter, intrigued. ¡°A guild?¡± She nods and folds her arms. ¡°Aye. The Black Knights of Condren. Word of their feat spread quick after they captured the dragon¡¯s heart, and every fool with a dream of glory went hunting dragons. Needless to say, most didn¡¯t return.¡± ¡°What happens when you die?¡± She snorts. ¡°What do you think happens?¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Game over?¡± ¡°No. But you lose half of all stats and experience points. And all of everything else that¡¯s on your person; property, items, coin. When someone dies, they, most likely, give up the adventuring life and spend the rest of their time doing something else. A trade of some sort that can still make the game fun and profitable. It¡¯s too hard and takes too much time to recover from a loss like that.¡± That¡¯s not so bad. I can handle that. It¡¯s better than permanent death. ¡°How did they do it?¡± ¡°How did who do what?¡± ¡°The Black Knights. How did they kill the dragon?¡± She leans on the counter with one arm. ¡°Well, first off, they have the numbers and plenty of high level characters in the guild. Some say they have a wizard whose power is so great that he put the dragon to sleep. Others say there is a warrior who has maxed out two of the hardest skill sets to max out; which is unlikely because the game constantly changes and updates to keep things interesting and moving forward. Nearly impossible to earn the rank of Grandmaster.¡± She taps on the counter and looks past me in recalling. ¡°Seems that I even heard someone say that there¡¯s a song that a master bard can play to tame a dragon. Who knows? All I know is that after the Black Knights killed the first dragon, everyone and their brother wanted to join the guild. This, of course, led the Black Knights to put in place strict regulations on who they accepted into their ranks.¡± I look down, then back up after a moment''s pause. ¡°What if, one day, I wanted to hunt a dragon; would you go with me?¡± I ask her. She chuckles low. ¡°Sure, new guy. You obtain the powers of Thal, and I¡¯ll go with you.¡± ¡°Who is Thal?¡± ¡°He¡¯s the God of War here in Alterlife.¡± ¡°There¡¯s gods here?¡± She looks at me like I¡¯m daft. ¡°You are from planet Earth, right? As long as there are people to believe in gods, then gods are real in some way or fashion. But just like the real world, I wouldn¡¯t worry about ever running in to one, though.¡± She stands up straight and gives a sarcastic grin. ¡°You¡¯ll see that this world isn¡¯t much different than the real world. This one¡¯s just more fun.¡± Not good, because I have an addictive personality. What the hell have I got myself into? ¡°Eldra, I don¡¯t have any coin to pay you.¡± ¡°Sure you do. Every noob starts with twenty gold. It¡¯s in the bank. In this quaint little town of Eden, the bank¡¯s the largest building. Hang a left at the fountain and you can¡¯t miss it.¡± There¡¯s a bank! I grin at myself. Don¡¯t even think about it. I drum on the counter. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be back in a jiffy. Sign me up for a boar hunt.¡± ¡°Easy, killer. I don¡¯t want your blood on my hands. You gotta crawl before you can walk.¡± Alterlife II is here! John Crussel has established himself as one of the most powerful players in the game, known in Alterlife as Ace the Great. But his quest for freedom came at a price. By unleashing the virus, countless lives were lost, and their blood is on his hands. Time has passed, and with it, the deaths seemed to have stopped - the virus is no more. Prosperity has returned to Alterlife, and to John''s life.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. But the Gamemasters haven''t forgotten about Ace the Great and what he has done. They lie in wait, patient and calculating. They seek to avenge their fallen brother, and are willing to use every tool in their arenal to deliver justice - even unleashing the gods themselves upon Alterlife. John Crussel thinks everything is back to normal. But there''s a war coming to his doorstep. And he doesn''t even see it coming. https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/23710/alterlife-ii Alterlife is now on Amazon Grab your copy of ALTERLIFE today! Also available for free with Kindle Unlimited. Join the Facebook Fan PageA case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. r/Alterlife on Reddit Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed ALTERLIFE, tell a friend. Let me know what you thought by leaving a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads. Visit www.mossthewriter.com/the-books for my complete catelogue. Sign up to the newsletter to stay informed on the next release. John Crussel will return...