Chapter 1: Hitting Brakes

Casper clenched a pool cue in his hands, preparing for his first bar fight. Or, more correctly, this would be Ash Clearly’s first bar fight. Apparently, his avatar, Casper ‘Caz’ Brakes, had a history of entering alcohol-soaked combat. Ash simply plugged into the system at the wrong time.

Across the pool table, a drunk man yelled in rage. Flecks of spittle decorated his slate-grey beard. The man struck his fists against green felt of the pool table. He gripped the sides of table, trying to plan his assault. He decided to prowl around the pool table, moving closer to the bar. The man’s eyes, fixed and unblinking, flickered with anger.

Yes, this man definitely wanted to kill him -- that is to say, to kill Casper.

Ash had already died.

* * *

Ash Clearly did not realize immediately what happened. He merely sensed total darkness. A darkness with a touch of the digital. As an embodied human, he could never experience the digital realm without some form of mediation. Yet, now, he knew the feeling intimately and inexpressibly. Without a body, he did not know how to interact with the world around him. His mind, a pure consciousness reduced to a series of numbers, floated senselessly. Within a minute or so, a combination of words flashed against the dark background.

PsyconTech presents: The Drive.

At PsyconTech, we understand that life is better lived.

That is why, we developed The Drive, a repository for human consciousness.

While you may have experienced death in the real world, your consciousness has been preserved and waits to be brought back into a new body.

Our latest findings regarding human consciousness demonstrates that the human psyche, which is a fancy way of saying the mind, must constantly be active. As such, our servers provide a series of interactive options to keep your mind engaged.

We hope you enjoy your residency within The Drive,

- The PsyconTech Team

Ash Clearly scratched his head. Metaphorically, of course, for he no longer had hands or a head. All he possessed was a mind situated in time. Memories of his last living day flashed before his mind.

In two weeks, he would have turned twenty-one. Despite needing to select a career at the Labour Bureau, he looked forward to this milestone birthday. Finally, he would be able to bring money home to his family. While his older brother had only been contributing for two years, his earnings improved the household’s standard of living. If Ash added his own wages to the mix, their little family might pull themselves out of the lower districts.

At least, that was the hope.

‘Transport truck,’ he thought to himself.

Ash remembered the last hour of his life. He had left felt proud of his performance at the Apprenticeship Assessment Center. While he knew that he was neither the strongest nor the smartest, he tried his best at everything he did. He hoped the judges would take his effort into consideration. If they did, it would mean a higher overall score, and, as such, a better choice of jobs at the Labour Bureau.

Ash felt so assured that he made the next tier of jobs that he was already fantasizing about spending his first substantial paycheque. The whole world glowed with excitement. Even the neon lights that lined the Bureaucratic District seemed to exude a more resplendent hue. In fact, he even remembered looking on the ground, admiring the deep crimson of the crosswalk, not registering that he was walking against his signal.

He was on the highway.

He paused, lifting his head only in time to see the sleek chrome-finish of an automated transport truck speeding toward him. The sound of the truck tossing its eight sets of breaks filled his ears with a horrible screech. Then, darkness.

The initial experience of darkness, the one without a digital quality about it, came as a multidirectional tug. He sensed something pulling him downward and something pulling him upward and something pulling him back and forth. His psyche had been yanked every which way, until it suddenly stopped. Only then did the sensations of blocks and code begin to populate his reality.

More words appeared on the horizon:

You have selected our -- Bronze -- Package.

This allows you a choice of -- three -- scenarios.

Please make your selection now.

Ash realized that his mom must have secretly purchased this digital backup as a birthday gift. Unfortunately, it came into use before he had the opportunity to appreciate life without the fear of immediate death. Now, things would be a little different. His family might have enough money to back-up his mind to The Drive, but getting a new body would be another expense altogether.

At least he had some choice about his temporary future. He looked at the options:

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- Fantasy RPG

- Science Fiction RPG

- Post-Apocalypse RPG

He needed no time to make his choice. He knew what each would entail.

The Fantasy RPG would be your typical swords-and-sandals meets magic. There might be a high elf king fighting orcs, or a viking-styled warriors fighting dragons, or a simple peasant living in the heartlands of some distant medieval land. Ash needed something more realistic.

The Science Fiction RPG would be a futuristic take on space travel. There might be a space ship filled crew members and companions, and, together, they would visit unique planets and engaging with the local life-forms. Ash needed something more gritty.

The Post-Apocalypse RPG – Ah! That’s what he wanted. He didn’t care if the apocalypse began with global climate change, a nuclear disaster, or a zombie virus. He knew this was the genre for him. Life, even with its difficulties, lacked the action and adventure he craved. The hypermodern world lacked the real tooth-and-nails existence that the post-apocalypse offered. There’s a difference between surviving the world by working paycheque-to-paycheque and surviving in a world where death was ever-present.

At that moment, Ash realized that life only acquired a sense of excitement with the possibility of death. The only question to answer was: Would you risk death? In a video game, in a simulation, the answer would be a resounding ‘Yes!’ How easy it is to risk life for action or adventure when death would not be permanent.

With a small tilt of his consciousness, he selected ‘Post-Apocalypse RPG’.

New words emerged amid the darkness.

IMPORTANT: Please note that according to the limitations of your package, this selection cannot be undone. You will not be able to change to another genre at a later time. Are you sure you would like to continue.

Ash only needed to affirm with the briefest assent of his mind.

The darkness around him began to swirl and populate with colours and objects. He witnessed a world shutter into existence. Every colour brimmed with a sheen of earth tones. While Ash still lacked a body, he could feel the aridness of his environment. This desert sprawled outward, stretching infinitely into the distance. He could see mountain ranges speckle the horizon. Shrubbery and wild grasses sprouted rapidly over the grand expanse, followed by a few visible insects and creatures. Nearby, he saw buildings self-assemble. He recognized these weathered buildings, buildings of a different era, from his history textbooks. He had been placed in an age paralleling the 1950s, one broken worn away by the ravages of time. The whole of the 20th century, its glory and horror, its optimism and depression, its progress and limitations, had been condensed into a single unchangeable age.

Ash already felt more real. Even though he lacked a body, he felt bound to physical laws that he had briefly transcended. In front of him floated little dossiers containing information on various persons within this world -- their names, ages, histories, strengths, and weakness. All them available at a glance. He looked through a few of these dossiers, wondering what playstyle would be most enjoyable.

While being able to select a different age, gender, and ethnicity, he settled on a profile that seemed the most similar to his real self. He analyzed the man’s information.

NAME: CASPER ‘CAZ’ BRAKES

RACE: CAUCASIAN

AGE: 20

FAMILY: NONE

PROFESSION: UNEMPLOYED

PRIMARY SKILLS:

STRENGTH: 5

PERCEPTION: 5

ENDURANCE: 7

CHARISMA: 1

INTELLIGENCE: 6

AGILITY: 8

LUCK: 8

SECONDARY SKILLS:

BARTER: 8

ENERGY WEAPONS: 16

EXPLOSIVES: 16

■ GUNS: 37

■ LOCKPICK: 31

MEDICINE: 18

MELEE WEAPONS: 16

REPAIR: 18

SCIENCE: 18

SNEAK: 22

■ SPEECH: 23

SURVIVAL: 20

UNARMED: 20

The stats looked good, but he wanted to change them a little.

Ash made his choice. In an instance, he felt himself surge into existence. He felt flesh cling to his bones and his mind spin within a new corporeal existence. The body seemed tight, as though it were a pair of pants he had outgrown. It felt odd, but not wholly uncomfortable. Still, it was nice to have hands again, even if they were a bit larger and more calloused that his real ones.

He took the opportunity to adjust his stats.

In the real world, he was not very charismatic. Ash didn’t want to relive that deficiency. He wanted something different. He tried nudging the stats a little, but he couldn’t do more than a total shift of five points.

He took out a point from Luck -- Why do I feel less assured of my fate? -- and point from Agility -- Did my knee just crack? -- and them into Charisma. Immediately, he felt less introverted and shy. His cheeks seemed to soften a little and his tongue seemed to move easier in his mouth. He dropped a point from Intelligence -- Uh, what was I going to do? -- and placed it in Charisma. Without mindfully doing so, he tilted his chin up and rolled back his shoulders. This would be enough. Any more meddling might reduce some unknown advantage in this game world. Ash thought upon further adjustment, but realized that he didn’t understand the mechanics of this world. Dropping more stats in favour of Charisma might prove to be a huge mistake.

Next came the question of secondary skills. While ‘Guns’ and ‘Speech’ would probably be crucial skills in the post-apocalypse, he was not sure about ‘Lockpick’. How often would he come across locked things in the wastes? Anything that was locked could be broken with a crowbar or a well-placed gunshot. These bonus points could be better spent.

Ash reviewed his options and settled on ‘Repair’. In a world where everything is broken or in decay, ‘Repair’ seemed a logical choice.

Ash settled on his build. His character would be balanced, and, as he learned about the world he was entering, he could adjust his skills as necessary.

Instantly, Ash’s eyelids snapped shut. He tried to open them with all his might, but he could not. Fright paralyzed him. After a few more painful attempts, he gave up and tried to calm himself.

As he relaxed, his eyes flicked open without warning.

He awoke to the sight of dingy bar. This worn-out watering hole had been constructed out of weathered wood and corrugated iron boards. The bar counter, filthy and covered with gunk, appeared to be a hold over from the pre-apocalyptic world. The mirrors that hung behind the counter were chipped -- as were the glass cups and liquor bottles that lined the wall.

“Weird,” Ash said to himself.

He staggered at the sound of his voice. It rang more deeply than his real one. Ash smiled. The whinny pitch of his voice had always been a point of insecurity.

‘Huh, the afterlife doesn’t seem to be too bad,’ Ash thought to himself.

“You mooch! You thief! You rabblerouser! What did I tell you about showing your face in here!?” A grizzly-looking man shouted from across the bar. He pointed an unsteady finger in his direction.

Ash looked behind him, but saw nobody.

“Me?” Ash responded.

“Yeah, you!” The drunk man yelled, taking ferocious steps toward Ash.

“You must be mistaken,” Ash said. He was surprised that his stutter had been reduced to a minimum. The relocation of points into Charisma might not have been a mistake. Maybe he would be able to speak through this misunderstanding. “Can we talk about this?”

[Speech Check Failed]

“Talk!? Now you want to talk after what you did!” The man stopped by the bar counter and stole a beer bottle from another man. He tossed the half-filled bottle.

Ash dodged the bottle. It shattered harmlessly behind him.

He was amazed at what his new body could do. Propelled by instinct, Ash -- or was it Casper? -- grabbed the pool cue that laid lifelessly on the pool table. He wielded it like a sword.

The drunk man squared himself across the table, unphased by his opponent’s weapon.

“You’ll regret the day that you decided to mess with Jack ‘Smiles’ Gadshill!”