The familiar sight of my room is comforting, yet oddly disorienting after the intense and surreal experience in the Net. Everything around me is so... normal. The slight hum of my computer, the scattered clothes on the floor, and the lingering scent of takeout pizza all remind me that I’m back on Earth, in my own space. But the pull to return to the Net, to the strange world I’ve just left, is already growing within me.
I stand up and stretch, feeling the subtle change in my muscles from the stat boost I applied earlier. The slight difference is there—a reminder that what I experienced wasn’t just a vivid dream. I’m physically stronger now, even if it’s just a bit, and that reality feels surreal.
“How long was I gone?” I say to myself, glancing at the clock. Just two hours have gone by, even with all the hustle and bustle of activity and choices in the Net. It’s comforting to realize that time moves at the same pace in both realms.
I pick up the empty pizza box, noticing how light it feels in my hand. My improved strength isn’t drastic, but it’s noticeable. I toss the box onto the bed and sit back down in my desk chair, which groans slightly under my weight. I’m the same, yet different, and the chair seems to know it.
With a tap of the mouse, my computer screen flickers to life, displaying the familiar desktop. There’s something new—a faintly glowing hexagon icon pulsing in the corner, unmistakably linked to the System.
I click the icon, and the app materializes on my screen. It’s all here—the map of Sector 18, my stats, the details of my new abilities. The interface is sleek, far beyond anything I’ve seen before. The colors are vibrant and sharp; no matter how closely I look, I cannot make out a single pixel, as if my monitor has been replaced with something from the future.
A blinking notification catches my eye: Reminder: Allocate the first point into Absorption to ensure daily credit income.
I can’t help but chuckle at the System’s efficiency. The reminder is a bit late, considering I’ve already allocated my points, but it’s a nice touch.
Curious, I explore the taskbar, clicking on an icon that looks like an upgraded version of a paper plane. The interface is like a souped-up version of AOL Instant Messenger, but with so much more. On one side of the screen is a feed of people posting images from both the Net and Earth, with goofy captions and comment threads.
On the other side, there’s a list of contacts—people I know and can message, but with an overwhelming number of options. I can react to messages with images of various faces, not just emojis. There’s even an option to send a short movie of what I’m currently seeing, not just still images. I can make telephone calls and even holographic calls, like something straight out of Star Wars.
I can see how people could easily get lost in this, blending their lives on Earth with the Net until they’re almost inseparable. I wonder if that’s by design.
I glance at the clock again. 4:15 PM. Crap, I’m late. DnD is going to start in fifteen minutes. I give the glowing icon one last look before forcing myself to close it. It’s harder than it should be, like peeling myself away from a window into another world. But I promise myself—real life first, the Net later.
With a sigh, I push the chair back, listening to the familiar groan of the wood floor. I grab my jacket from the back of the door and head downstairs. Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, speaking about a movie they are planning to see.
“There you are,” Dad says, catching sight of me as I come down the stairs. He’s holding a newspaper and pulling on his own jacket. “We’re heading out soon. Movie and shopping. Your mom’s idea.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Like you weren’t the one who wanted to see the movie.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, waving it off.
I try to sneak past them to the front door, but Mom catches me. “Gregory, there’s dinner on the table. Make sure you’re back by eight. No later, okay?”
“Got it,” I say. I’m not thrilled about eating lasagna by myself while they're out, but I’m definitely not going to turn it down.
“I’m heading to Kyle’s. We’re doing the DnD thing.”
She gives me a knowing look, most likely recalling the days when DnD was the bane of every parent’s existence, when they thought it was some cultish devil-worshipping nonsense. Luckily, she’s gotten over that.
“Have fun,” she says, ruffling my hair as I duck past her.
“Fun is my middle name,” I shoot back with a grin, dodging out the door before she can say anything else.
My bike is resting against the porch railing, a little worse for wear but still functional. I climb on and begin cycling, the cold evening air blowing across my face as I go down the street. The houses blur past, each one a slice of suburban life—perfectly groomed lawns, white picket fences, children playing in the yard. It’s all so... normal. But my thoughts keep returning to the Net, to the glowing hexagon icon, and Alexander’s warning.
I shake my head, struggling to focus on the present. The sun casts long shadows on the pavement as I pass by the park, where a couple of kids are playing frisbee, their laughter filling the air. It’s a postcard-worthy scene, yet all I can think about is how mundane it feels in comparison to the Net.
The town is small—the kind where everyone knows everyone. The old diner on the corner is still open, with the same group of old-timers seated at the counter, most likely fighting over who won last night’s game. The aroma of burgers and fries flows through the air, combining with the scent of newly cut grass. Normally, I would stop in for a milkshake, but today I continue pedaling. I have a game to get to.
Kyle’s house isn’t far, just a few blocks away. I roll up the driveway, the sound of dice and voices already filtering through the open window. I can hear the guys laughing about something—probably at some gossip.
I park my bike and walk inside without knocking. We don’t bother anymore with formalities like that. Kyle’s parents are cool with us taking over the basement for our games, as long as we keep the noise down.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“Look who finally decided to show up!” Jake calls out as I descend the stairs.
“Greg, we thought you ditched us for a hot date,” Sam teases, smirking. “Or did you just get lost in a book again?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, trying to get rid of the lingering thoughts about the Net. It’s harder than I thought possible. Even as I walk down the rickety stair and pull out my character sheet, my mind continues to wander—mostly as to what tomorrow will hold, but intermixed with those are flashes of the club, the ride with Cassidy, and the countless questions that plague me.
Sitting on the couch, I look around the basement at Kyle’s parents’ old furniture, a few Metallica and Nirvana pictures on the walls, and an outdated TV in the corner that has seen more Mario Kart matches than it should have. The area smells like a combination of old pizza, Mountain Dew, and sweat—the standard concoction for any successful D&D session.
Jake is already on the other couch, stretching out and holding a half-eaten bag of Cheetos and his character sheet. His dark hair is a tangled mess, as if he just rolled out of bed, which, knowing him, he probably did. Sam—perched on the couch arm—drums his fingers on the edge of the table, his short, spiky hair attempting to resist gravity. Kyle stands at the head of the table, sorting over his DM notes with the intensity of a man prepared to lead a group of morons into a cave they will most likely die in.
“You sure you’re awake, Greg?” Jake asks, shoving a handful of Cheetos into his mouth. “You’ve got that ‘I’ve seen things’ look in your eyes.”
I wave him off. “I’m fine. Just had a weird day, that’s all.”
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Weird how? Like, ‘I saw Bigfoot in the backyard’ weird, or ‘I found Dad’s old Playboy stash’ weird?”
I snort. “Neither, smartass. Just... one of those days, you know?”
“Uh-huh,” Kyle says, not looking up from his notes. “If you’re too tired to play, we can reschedule. No pressure.”
“No way,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. “I’m good. Ready to roll some dice and slay some monsters.”
“Alright, but don’t space out on us,” Jake says with a grin. “We need our fearless, if a bit distractable, tiefling to keep us from getting eaten by kobolds.”
“Fearless? You’ve met me, right?” I shoot back.
Kyle finally looks up. “Well, I am not one who decided to break into the school’s brand new email system and send everyone a crossword puzzle.”
“Not my fault that the school didn’t set up basic security measures. Blame Sam; he is the one who gave me the dare.”
Sam holds up his hands. “Whoa there, don’t drag me into this. Plus, you dared me first—made me deliver a letter to Julia in front of everyone. You got off light.”
“No, I didn’t. The worst that could have happened to you was that she could say no. Plus, you were crushing on her hard, and now she is your girlfriend.”
Kyle clears his throat, pulling us back to the game. “Okay, enough chatter. Let’s get this campaign started; otherwise, we will be here till tomorrow.”
I nod, grabbing my dice and character sheet, trying to push thoughts of the Net to the back of my mind. It’s just a game, I tell myself. A distraction. Something that will keep me grounded here. But when Kyle begins narrating the scene—our characters standing at the entrance to a dark, frightening cave—I find it hard to focus.
My character, Zarek the tiefling rogue, is supposed to be scouting ahead, looking for traps, but my mind keeps returning to that interface—how fluid and perfect it was. It felt more real than anything I’d ever seen.
“Greg, it’s your turn,” Kyle says, snapping me back to the present.
“Huh? Oh, right,” I say, glancing down at my sheet. “Uh, Zarek checks for traps?”
Jake snickers. “Way to sell it, man. You’re really in character tonight.”
Sam nudges me with his elbow. “Seriously, what’s up with you? You’re usually way more into this.”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Maybe I’m just channeling Zarek’s inner monologue. You know, all brooding and distracted.”
“Yeah, or you’re just distracted,” Jake says, throwing a Cheeto at me. “Come on, spill. What’s got you so spaced out?”
“Nothing, really,” I insist, catching the Cheeto before it can stain my character sheet. “Just... had a lot on my mind, I guess.”
Kyle finally looks up, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure you’re not thinking about someone, Greg? Which lucky girl has stolen your attention?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, Kyle, because I’m just swimming in dates. Don’t be jealous.”
Jake chuckles. “He’s probably thinking about Lilith, the barmaid from the last campaign. Dude, you were so into her, and she wasn’t even real.”
“Hey, she had personality!” I protest, trying to keep the banter light. But in the back of my mind, all I can see is that glowing hexagon on my screen, the way it pulsed like it was alive, calling to me.
“Right, personality,” Sam says with a smirk. “Totally not just because she was the first NPC to flirt with your character.”
Sam nudges me with his elbow. “But, seriously, what’s up? You’re making us look bad.”
“Maybe I’m just taking a strategic pause,” I retort. “You know, plotting how to best avoid the inevitable disaster Kyle’s going to throw at us.”
Kyle glares at me, his gaze sharp. “Focus up, or we’ll all die because you’re too busy daydreaming. Alright, Zarek, roll for traps.”
I grab my dice and shake them in my hand, trying to push aside thoughts of the Net and the glowing hexagon. I toss the dice onto the table. They clatter and settle. “Uh, 14. That’s what I get.”
“Alright,” Kyle says, peering at his notes. “You don’t detect any traps in the immediate area. But as you move forward, you notice that the carvings on the walls seem to shift ever so slightly.”
Sam’s mage’s eyes narrow. “Elalar studies the carvings more closely. Any magical auras or hidden messages?”
Kyle grins. “As Elalar examines the carvings, the light from the mage’s spell reveals a series of runes glowing faintly. They seem to form a pattern, almost like a map.”
Jake leans forward, intrigued. “A map? Where does it lead?”
“Looks like it’s pointing further into the dungeon,” Kyle says, tapping his notepad. “But there’s a catch. The runes seem to be shifting and changing.”
“Of course,” I mutter. “Nothing ever goes smoothly.”
“Zarek continues to scout ahead,” I say, trying to sound more involved. I roll the dice again, hoping for something better than the last roll. The dice land on a 16. “Good enough for me, right?”
Kyle nods. “Zarek sneaks forward, the passage opening into a larger chamber. The walls are lined with more runes, and there’s a faint, shimmering barrier across the far side of the room.”
I lean back on the couch, attempting to focus. It’s difficult to ignore the tug of the Net, the feeling that something awaits me beyond this mundane game. Yet I push myself to pay attention as Kyle discusses the chamber’s detailed intricacies and the magical barrier.
The game proceeds, with the player characters venturing deeper into the dungeon, encountering traps, solving riddles, and battling monsters. Despite my distractions, I’m gradually getting back into the game. The camaraderie amongst the guys, the shared excitement of rolling dice, and the challenge of overcoming Kyle’s cleverly crafted situations allow me to temporarily forget about the glowing hexagon and the world beyond.
For now, it’s just me, my friends, and the dungeon. And for a little while, that’s enough.