Chapter One

Awakening

Don’t you love it when you wake up with your head pounding like a drum? So do I buddy. I also love it when I wake up beaten, lying on the floor, my face in a puddle of vomit. Who and why did they beat me you ask? Beats me(heh). As I lay there, my brain felt like soup and any memories I tried to reach for were like flotsam carried away from my grasp by unseen currents.My eyes fluttered open slowly, as I was assaulted by the harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling. I tried to sit up and a groan escaped my lips as I felt a sharp pain flaring in my lower ribs. Ughhh.

Dazed and confused, I looked around, taking in the scene. It appeared that I was in some sort of short hallway with no windows to be seen, lit by the aforementioned fluorescent lights.

Besides the vomit, the floor was adorned with a beige patterned carpet, the type of which you’d be sure to find in the common areas of a cheap hotel. The walls, grimy and filled with graffiti, featured peeling navy wallpaper that showcased a kitsch fusion of art deco and circuit board patterns.

The only thing that broke up the run-down vibes was the row of five peculiar looking doors on one side of the hallway. These doors, resembling one piece, stainless steel slabs like the ones you’d find in elevators, lacked visible knobs or handles. Adorned with dings, dents, and scratches, each door was accompanied by a sleek panel with an LED display showing white numbers on a black background and, under the screen, tiny speaker holes. Although my initial thought was that they might be elevator doors, the presence of stairs leading up and down on the opposite wall and not much else, indicated that they were likely entrances to apartments or offices.

“Where the fuck am I?” I muttered in disbelief.

My whole body aching, I shakily get up, leaning on the wall for support.

Ok, get it together Jack! I thought, trying to compose myself. Hey, I remembered my name! This must be a good start, right?

Wow, they must have pulled a real number on me to make me feel this way. Am I concussed? I must be if I can’t remember squat.

I looked down at my body trying to assess the damage. I appeared to be dressed in torn blue jeans, black t shirt showing a chrome skull with shining red eyes, scuffed black combat boots with external steel caps and a thick studded leather jacket to bring everything together. The front of my jeans was stained with sporadic blood spatters. Really hope this blood ain’t mine.

I lifted my shirt to check for wounds. No open wounds that I could see. I could make out a few scrapes and all around my sides were the tell tale purplish red of bruises starting to form. Like a fool I reached out the biggest patch and I winced out in pain. If I haven’t broken them, my ribs must be bruised for sure.

I let my shirt fall and contemplated my next move. Do I visit a clinic or try to get back home? Well pursuing either option was gonna be tricky since I had no idea where was and even more worryingly, I couldn’t remember where my house was. What the hell is happening? I thought, panic starting to creep in.

No matter how much I racked my mind, I couldn’t come up with even the most basic information about by personal life, while the most random trivia came to me readily. (Did you know that the guy who voiced Yoda also voiced Miss Piggy? Look it up.)

As I stood there dazed and disoriented, the next door over to my right slid open with a very soft pneumatic hiss and a balding man in his 70s wearing a cream sweater over a baby blue button up peaked out. He scanned the corridor wearily and the moment his eyes landed on me leaning on the wall next to the staircase his expression softened. His round spectacled face held the gentle look of a jovial grandfather that would put anyone at ease.

“Jack, my boy!” he said. “What are you doing lingering in front of your door?”

Hey! Gramps knew me!

Before I could make more of it, the old man stepped out of the door and moved closer. As he got a few feet closer to me, his expression turned to one of worry.

“You got into trouble again Jack?” he said sternly. “When will you wise up my boy?”

Ok. If the old man is not mistaking me for someone else and I can go by his words, I appear get in trouble often. This doesn’t sound like me. I thought of explaining how lost and confused I was to him but some stupid part of me didn’t want to worry the old man.

“It looks worse than it is! I was distracted by a call and tripped down a flight of stairs ha ha,” I said sheepishly. “I will be pretty sore tomorrow but it’s no big deal!”

The old man gave me a doubting look but luckily appeared mollified.

“Oh Jack, you worry old Bob too much,” he said shaking his head. “How many times have I got to tell you that this gang drek will get you killed. It’s not right when the old outlive the young.” His stern expression betrayed a depth of sadness that told me there must be a story behind those words.

Wait a second. Gang? Me? He must be mistaken. What the hell is going on?

“As I said, it was just a silly little accident. No need to worry!” I repeated in what I hoped was a convincing manner.

“Yeah yeah.” The old man waved his hand dismissively. “Go on now Jack. Be sure to rest well and stay out of trouble, ok?” he said and sauntered over back to his apartment.

Good going genius. Why didn’t you say anything? I thought to myself disparagingly. What the hell do I do now?

Wait! Didn’t gramps mention something about me standing in front of my apartment? Either the old man has me confused with someone else or I really live in this dump. I guess there’s no harm in trying.

I moved shakily towards the door in front of me and inspected the panel. The screen had the number 303 displayed on it. Ok, what do I do with this? Is it a touchscreen?

I reached out my hand tentatively and touched the screen with my index. The LEDs on the screen blinked green and then shifted to display the words Welcome Home in the sterile white font as the number displayed previously. As soon as the message was displayed I was startled by the door hissing open.

What the hell? Why does the door open so easily? While weird, I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to take a look inside.

I peaked in tentatively and was shocked at what I saw. A 7’x13’ room with a bead curtain doorway leading to a tiny bathroom on the left side wall and on the far side wall a vertical window that spanned 2/3rds of the wall lengthwise looking out to a very impressive view of an alley and the brick building across it whose myriad signs bathe the room in various hues of neon light. Hey! Looks like it’s nighttime. Exciting.

Even though the apartment was the size of a small dorm room, the thing that took me by surprise was the conditions the tenant (me?) was living in. The whole place looked like it hadn’t seen a proper cleaning and airing in years a strong odor of stale Chinese food hung in the air. At least it didn’t smell like cigarettes or mold.

In a sad state of affairs, the room was furnished by single bare mattress laying frame-less on the floor by the window, no bed sheets or cover, just a blanket and a pillow. Near the right hand wall was what looked like a clothing rack taken straight from a department store with a few t-shirts hanging from it and next to it a hamper with some underwear and socks. No kitchen, no table, no chairs, no nothing. On one corner of the room was a large trash bag filled with laundry and strewn all over the floor where takeaway boxes and scattered snack wrappers. If the main room is like this, I dread to look in the bathroom.

While my aches and pains made me reconsider, I was of half a mind to start cleaning; it felt like something that would calm me down.

Who the hell lives like this? Well, apparently I did.

As I couldn’t see anyone in, I took a tentative step inside. As soon as I passed the doorway, the door slid closed behind me. I panicked for a moment before I noticed the familiar panel on the inside as well.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I touched the screen and it lit up with three options; OPEN, CAMERA and TALK. I pressed the OPEN button and feeling relief, I watched door slide open. The OPEN prompt shifted to the word CLOSE, and I promptly tapped the new prompt. Next I tried the camera function. The two other buttons were minimized to the bottom while the CAMERA button grew to cover two thirds of the screen and started displaying a really hi-res fisheye view of the hallway.

Huh. Real fancy doorbell for such a crappy apartment. I really hope others can’t open the door as easy as I did. Well maybe I could test it out later. I left the door camera on and walked deeper into the room.

Being lost on what do, I figured I’d take a seat on the mattress and try to figure out what’s happening to me. Even though it feels icky, it beats lying on the floor for sure.

While I couldn’t conjure up any memories directly, I quickly realized that I could figure out things about myself by thinking laterally. For example, looking at my clothes and this apartment as well, I somehow knew that I wasn’t a person who dressed in such a fashion or even hung out around places like this. My best theory for now is that I was beat badly enough to forget basic things about myself. Also, either I got beat here and my assailants left, either they dragged me here or, most likely, I managed to bring myself here and then promptly passed out .

Sadly, none of my observations helped me figure out who I was, where I was and what was I doing here. And then it struck me. Maybe I could look at my phone for clues! Something in there will surely jog my memory. Truly, I must be a genius.

As I moved my hand tot the left front pocket of my pants by instinct, a flashing light in my peripheral vision wrested away my attention. I jerked my head in the direction of the light only for it to move away. After a few tries I realized it would move in sync with my eyes so it always stayed in my periphery. I stopped moving my head and by some weird feeling I focused my attention on the light. Only then did I realize what I was seeing. Suspended there on the upper right edge of my vision was a white icon of person softly pulsing yellow.

With my attention focused on the icon, I felt a weird clicking sensation. I know it wasn’t an actual click but similar to how phones use a combination of vibration, sound and graphics to trick you into feeling the actions you are performing, my brain was reporting that it felt an actual click in the direction of the icon.

I watched slack-jawed as the icon moved and expanded to a really transparent window that hung a few feet in front of me in the center of vision.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK.” I uttered in disbelief. I must have brain damage for sure.

I focused on the window and it immediately came into focus, becoming more opaque. Apparently, the window was displaying a list of names. All of them grayed out except for the first name on the list which read Orion in white letters. Next to it was a yellow bubble with number 1 in its center. As I watched, the number turned to 2 and almost immediately again changed to 3.

The signs were clear. I could see the writing on the wall. Or in the air in this instance. I was either receiving texts in my head or I was well on my way to a cozy padded white room.

Calm down Jack. If I was really having hallucinations, wouldn’t I be convinced that they are real? I thought to myself. Well, I knew for sure that I wasn’t a medical student or practicing doctor so I had no idea if what I knew about hallucinations and delusions was based on pop culture bullshit or actual factoids.

I could try ignoring it and hope it goes away or even go out try to find a clinic. I thought, going over my options. I knew for a fact that with my injuries, I didn’t have it in me to get up and run around besides, who knew what they would do to me if I started telling people I was seeing floating menus. Also, I see no harm in playing around with the menu for now as it doesn’t appear to be affecting me negatively. The moment I turned my attention back to the menu, it came into focus. It appeared that as long as I didn’t concentrate on it, it would become transparent and unobtrusive. Nifty.

“Menu, prepare to have your depths plundered,” I declared in amusement.

I quickly figured out that I could dismiss the window with a thought and it would return to an icon in the border of my vision, this time solid yellow in color. I assume that was because I acknowledged the notification but still have unread messages.

Huh. I haven’t heard of a hallucination with UX design. I vaguely remember reading a post about a guy with visual hallucinations who would use his phone camera to verify if what he was seeing was real as they didn’t appear on what his phone recorded. Does that mean there are no hallucinations that incorporate technology or was it just a made up story? Oh well.

I opened up again what I started thinking of as the contacts icon. The list of names came back up and I focused on Orion. The window shifted to display a chat log with Orion’s messages in white bubbles on the left and what I assume where mine, in yellow on the right. The last three messages read as follows:

-Orion: fragging drek-for-brains. you just left me there!

-Orion: they were beating me and you ran!

-Orion: HEY DREKHEAD STOP IGNORING ME!!!!

What the hell’s this guy saying?

Apparently this Orion guy knows me and it looks like he got beat as well! Besties? What the hell was my relationship with this person? Before I could check the chat history for clues, another couple of messages came in.

-Orion: I CAN FRAGGING SEE YOU READING MY MESSAGES DREKHEAD

-Orion: if you dont reply i’m coming to geek you chum

Before I could tell what was happening, I kind of replied instinctively. It wasn’t that hard. I just thought of the words appearing there and they did so. With proper spelling and everything!

-Me: Well they beat me as well thank you very much!

-Orion: oh he speaks!

Under his last bubble a 3d icon of nondescript person bowing appeared. 3d emojis? Damn!

-Orion: hahahaha the kick to the head made you even stupider

-Orion: I GOT BEAT DEFENDING YOU DREKHEAD

-Orion: i’m supposed to be the hothead but the great genius jack goes and picks a fight with a bunch of halloweeners

This guy is insane. What the hell is it with all the weird slang and what’s a halloweener?

-Me: Sorry bud. I really panicked!

-Orion: man why you writing so weird

-Orion: you better make it up to me

-Orion: next time you buyin real vodka

-Me: Sure thing bud!

-Orion: and your getting punched hehe

-The user appears to be offline-

Aaaaand there he goes.

“What the hell is even happening?”

I scrolled up the chat and from what I could it was mostly talking shit, exchanging memes that were unrecognizable to me, setting up meetings etc. I really seemed to be friends with this guy. And he was right, “my” previous messages had a totally different style, a style I’d call barely graduated kindergarten but a style nonetheless. Orion looked like a genius comparatively.

Feeling lightheaded on top of my throbbing headache, I closed the window. Remembering what I was about to do before being distracted by the chat, I fished in my pocket for my phone. I pulled my hand out and… huh???

What I was holding in my hand was phone shaped for sure but that’s about where the similarities ended. The thing was a matte dark gray plastic rectangle the size of a smartphone but without the screen. On the back, it had an angular infinity logo with a blue-purple gradient and on the front, a slightly protruding dome with small cameras all over its surface. On the sides were what looked like two SD card slots and on the bottom where the charging port should be, there was an unrecognizable connector that I immediately found out was detachable cable that could unspool to about 3 feet.

Oh no… What the hell is this?

I feel like a person that usually takes things in stride but at this point, with all this weird shit as well as my aching head and sore ribs, I was starting to feel really overwhelmed.

The way I see it right now, I either try to soldier through and venture out or take a chance and sleep in this hovel. Guess what my tired ass decided to do.

I laid down on the mattress, praying to any deity willing to listen that I wasn’t sharing the bed with any bedbugs or roaches. As I lay there, looking up a the dusty ceiling fan, I noticed that the contacts icon was gone. I guess since I read all new messages, there was no need for the icon. I thought of the contacts window opening up and appear it did.

“Huh. Would you look at that!” I played around a bit more opening and closing the window and discovered that I could even go directly to any chat from a closed window. All in all it seemed to be pretty responsive.

A hypothesis was starting to form in my head. If I am to assume the thing in my pocket is some sort of computing device with no screen while acknowledging that I have some kind of mental projection interface, could it be possible that the device is beaming things directly to my brain? Literally insane. Also what are the chances that the only thing my interface does is feature a chat system?

What if…

I started thinking of the concept of a menu and it happened.

A grid of various icons zoomed out of the background towards the center of my vision startling the shit out of me. Of course, as if that wasn’t enough, the menu went see through and a pulsing neon-red message popped up screaming for my attention.

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COMPUTERS SKILL UNLOCKED

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The moment I acknowledged the message, a surging pain that felt like molten lava being directly poured onto my brain swept me off my feet and I went night-night.