Mark stretched in bed as his eyes squinted from the sliver of bright sunlight making its way through the gap in the curtains.

‘Ah… the bane of sleep… yet superman’s strength… nuclear fusion.’

After lampooning about superman’s method of gaining strength, Mark pulled his lethargic body out of bed and into the bathroom. While brushing half asleep, he remembered that his air conditioner was still on, so with a brush in his mouth and no t-shirt, he walked over to his table, only to be unable to find the remote.

‘Alright, I’ll do this after I’ve washed my face and found my spectacles.’

A while of brushing, washing his face, and putting on his blue spectacles, Mark walked back out of the bathroom, still shirtless and noticed his room looked completely different, as though it was not his room to begin with.

His ductless smart-AC had been replaced by an old and warn-out window-AC. The large flat-screen O-LED TV was replaced with a much smaller, and much thicker box-TV. On his table, instead of his laptop with his novels and scripts, were a stack of notebooks and textbooks related to various academic subjects as well as a few board games.

In a panic, Mark reached over to the pocket of his pants, only to realise he was wearing boxers and the only pocket it had was on the back, which was empty. He turned around to the side-tables of his bed and found nothing, so he hurriedly flipped over his blanket and the sheets, and still found nothing except a pack of gum.

‘My phone…’

Depressed at the loss of his phone, Mark trudged out of his room, only to realise where he was staying was also different. It was no longer the apartment he had bought for himself, but it was still an apartment near the outskirts of Los Angeles, only it was much smaller.

With one bedroom, one bathroom inside the bedroom, a small kitchen that was part of the living room that was smaller than the bedroom itself. The only window of the apartment was in the bedroom, and everything else had to be lit using electric lights.

*Knock*

*Knock*

“Mark, getchyo a*s out here! We gotta go!”

Suddenly, Mark heard what sounded like an African-American man speaking in a rather odd way, sounding closer to Eddie-Murphy from Dr. Dolittle.

Then, with a loud thud inside his mind, Mark felt a profound understanding of his current situation.

He was Mark Whitehall, a 21-year-old who just passed out of Community College here in Las Angeles, having studied mainly screenplay and directing. He did not have any parents, only one estranged older brother who lived in New York, and a few distant relatives. But more importantly, he was not Mark.

'Well, I am Mark, just not this Mark. He looks similar to me, but looks fit and athletic. It feels really weird feeling this healthy,' Mark thought to himself as he flexed his bicep in the mirror.

'Heh, I actually have a friend now... is this some sort of dream?' Mark thought to himself as memories of his new body flooded into his mind. Yet, none of the emotions of this Mark went into him, only the memories. It felt really odd, like watching someone else's life in a movie, but quite literally through their eyes.

The new Mark's body he had taken over was a freshly graduated student... from the batch of 1976?

'What in the world? I've taken over the body of someone who looks like a more fit me... but was born in the 1950s? Hmm? What is this?' as the memories passed, Mark realised something. Not only was he in the past, but it seemed like an alternate history of the original. Some novels and movies which were already famous by now were not present here, while others which should not have even existed, were incredibly successful now.

'Wait... so I really did die back then... I mean in the future?' Mark thought to himself as he recalled his own life.

Born to an adequately successful family, Mark did not have any complaints other than the fact that neither of his parents were around for much of his life. And the little while they had been around, they spent it with his younger but academically and physically more adept sister. That was why he had left his home to live alone and make a life for himself at the age of 18, as soon as he legally could.

Unfortunately, he was never good with talking to people. not just talking, but feeling emotions for or with people was also something he did not often experience. Perhaps it was the way he was raised and a defence mechanism to prevent himself from ever being hurt by others, or perhaps it was just the way he was, but he never felt anger or jealousy towards his parents or sister. He never felt frustration or anything of the like. But on the other hand, he never felt love either. They were just there for a portion of his life, living in the world immediately around him, but when he left they were no longer there, and he still felt nothing.

The one place he could feel something was through fiction. He did not know why that was so, but reading novels and watching movies gave him brief glimpses into the one thing his world lacked, emotions. He felt the sorry of characters losing their loved ones, he felt the joy of saving the world, he felt the satisfaction of getting revenge no matter how illegal, and he felt the powerlessness of the side-characters.

And yet, he felt nothing as soon as he finished immersing himself in the stories, which was why he decided to write scripts, to make stories he could feel emotions from. For him, the process of writing felt just as, if not more emotional than reading books or watching movies. Over the course of his career, he had successfully written dozens of movie scripts with only 5 being sold, and only 2 being made into considerably successful movies. However, his best work remained in the television series section where he wrote the scripts of one show that made it into Netflix, and even had three move seasons before he decided to end it.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

His career was in full swing, despite being over 50 in 2020, but everything changed when an armed burglary turned into a homicide, and he instantly lost his parents and his sister went into a comatose state, with no reaction to the external world.

Mark had finally felt something he had only felt when experiencing media.

Greif

And it felt incredibly painful. It felt like his heart was bleeding for the first time ever. The pain almost felt physical, and unable to take it anymore, he took a knife and plunged it into his heart to try and stop the pain... which it did rather effectively.

'So I died from emotions... a fitting end to what I can only describe as a robot. But then why am I here? And who is this body? Why have I taken over it? Where is the original owner?' Mark had many questions, but he simple compartmentalised them to be processed later as he thought of how to answer the one outside his apartment. It was Eddie as the original Mark called him; Edward Murphy, Mark's one and only friend.

Much like the current Mark, the original Mark who own this body was also devoid of much emotion, and had never gotten close to anyone. Only the extremely outgoing neighbour who went to the same college as him and graduated at the same time as well somehow managed to wriggle his way into a friendship despite being an unrequited friendship.

'Hmm, today appears to be the 'job interview' both of us were going for. For me, it was actually a job interview as a scriptwriter, but for Eddie it appears to be an audition. Well, he is a 20 year old African-America in the late 1970s, I doubt he will easily get a role. Hmm, as for me, I do not need the job,' Mark thought as he recalled a conversation he had with his father before leaving.

...

"Mark, why are you doing this?" his mother yelled as tears fell from her eyes uncontrollably.

"..." Mark did not respond, and kept his unfazed expression on his face.

"Are you sure you do not want to join the business? It will earn you a tidy sum, enough to live your life and build a family." his father embraced his crying mother while looking out the window behind her, talking to Mark without looking at him.

"Yes. I will write scripts. It is the only time I feel something."

"Alright. Then go, and become a successful scriptwriter. But remember, we are always here, we will always be waiting if you do not succeed. Just remember to try your level best, it is important to chase your dreams even in hardships. If I had not, I would not have built my woodworking company. I would not have convinced your mother's family to allow her to marry me, and nor would any of you even exist."

...

'I did not keep my promise. I could not become a successful scriptwriter. Instead of focusing on the other aspects of scriptwriting, like forming connections with others to be able to sell my scripts, I spent years immersing myself in emotions while constantly writing things. Only later did I realise that I also have to talk to people and make friends to be able to sell my work and have it turned into movies and shows.'

'But you also did not keep your promise did you? You were not there for me...' Mark once again felt the same emotion he had felt when he got the news, and saw his sister laying unconscious on the hospital bed. Thankfully it was not as bad as before.

'Mother... Father... Lucy... since I have been given a second chance at life, I will not waste it like last time. I will make sure to become the most successful scriptwriter in history. And for that, I suppose I do need a scriptwriting job.' After thinking rapidly and finding logic in that train of thought, Mark made his decision and turned to speak to Eddie.

“Coming Eddie. Just need to change into my work clothes.”

However, Eddie did not wait and instead walked over the flower pot next to the door, and lifted up his freshly pressed office shirt sleeve, and dug his hand into the mud. Moments later he pulled out a key and unlocked the door, to the view of a half naked Mark putting on his shirt, with no pants.

“Man, we are already 10 minutes late!”

“Eddie the plan was for each of us to reach 2 hours early.”

“I know! It ain’t enough time Mark! I’m tellin’ ya! We gotta go! Your Writer’s Guild and my Actors Association only gave each of us 2 free job-notices. Everythin’ after than will be paid, and we can’t pay for nothin’ we broke b*tch.”

“Alright, I’m almost ready. Do you have the tickets?”

“Right here. Mine is going up north, yours goes south, but it should take each of us only 12 minutes to reach. All the f*cking best bud!”

Edward offered the ticket and a handshake much like the one in Predator between two men fighting for their lives.

“All the very f*cking best my man!”

Mark accepted the handshake and pulled Eddie slightly closer, but no expression on his face.

“My Man.”

Eddie grinned, knowing this was the most expressive Mark had been for weeks, before slapping the back of Mark’s head with his other hand.

“Get ready! I ain’ gonna be late cause of ya!”

2 minutes later, with an unbuttered bread in his mouth, Mark and Edward left their room and headed to the bus station.

...

After saying goodbye, the two boarded different busses and headed off after another goodbye. On the bus, Mark looked down at his hands while pondering his current condition and future while recalling his past, which was set in the future.

...

Lucy was his younger sister. Despite that, she was both smarter and more athletic than his old self. In fact, she even went on to become a qualified surgeon at the local hospital after having completed her residency and fellowship, moving on to become a renowned liver surgeon with years of experience and countless operations under her belt.

He recalled her smiling face as she often helped him understand his literature back when they were kids, and living with their parents. He had not seen her or his parents after he let and changed his name.

However, the façade he had unconsciously built around himself, thinking he did not care about them came crashing down the moment the burglary happened.

"Akh-" Mark opened his eyes and clucked his chest again, expecting the pain similar to when he had killed himself before to repeat again, but it never came, leaving him huffing for air and covered in sweat.

*Sigh*

Taking in a deep breath and exhaling through his nostrils, Mark focussed his mind and distracted himself from those depressing memories.

'I remember many of the best movies and shows. I remember them vividly because they were effectively the only part of the soulless life with moderate amounts of emotions and colours. I could make the ones that were not released or produced yet to make a name for myself, and then produce my own works as well. Plagiarism is not an issue. I cannot have such brilliant works of emotion not exist in this world. I will make it so that this alternate world will also have just as many if not more colours.'

However, before he could delve into those thoughts any further, the bus came to a stop and it was where he was supposed to get off.

Thanking the buss driver before getting off, Mark walked down the street, making a few turns and asking for a few directions before reaching a rather sketchy-looking building.

Luckily, he was not in the wrong place as he found the waiting room in no time, which was surprisingly half empty, meaning there were not as many people applying for the job as the company had expected.

This meant that he had a higher chance of joining it. If this truly was the same Lucas-Films that had created Star-Wars, he could add his name to an incredibly successful movie. And if it was not, the job still gave a decent pay, enough for Mark to put food on his plate, pay for rent, just barely.