I arrived home from dinner in an odd mood. Thoughts of my father and his recent compliments made me happy, which in turn made me irritated. I’d thought I’d long gotten over desiring my father’s approval. Thoughts of my recently recovered book series and the time spent with the rest of the family lifted me again before I’d remember my father, and the cycle would repeat.

As darkness fell outside my office window, I plopped myself and a cup of coffee in front of my computer. For once, acting like many of my peers, I booted up a video game with plans to meet up virtually with a friend.

I was perhaps a bit more excited and nervous than my peers would be, however. Logically, I knew logging in as Blaze wouldn’t be the same as wandering around as myself. Whilst Cove would be very real on the other side of the computer, the other friends would be stuck in their lines as paper versions of themselves. It wouldn’t be the same as those nights beneath the stars.

Knowing didn’t stop the wanting.

The familiar face of Blaze Worldwalker popped up on my screen, and I reclined back as I waited for the chance to log in. I didn’t have to wait long. Blaze opened his eyes in the dingy hotel I’d stored him at, on the mainland and far away from the story I wanted him to be at. Luckily, Cove was going to meet Blaze with a solution to said problem–story passes he’d won in a drawing years ago when Zenith Online was attempting new promotion methods.

They’d dropped the super-rare story passes relatively quickly, discovering that offering free skips for your game encouraged people not to play your game.

I placed my phone on speaker and dialed Cove, ready to iron out our plans.

“I’ll find you.”

It took another half hour for Cove’s words to become true. Blaze sat at the bar table, staring aimlessly in the distance.

“I pineally found you!” Cove shouted into the phone.

I moved the camera, glancing around the bar room for any player characters that suited his profile.

My coffee cup clattered against the glass coaster. Coffee burned the back of my throat. I swallowed hard as I muted my phone and promptly choked on my coffee, hacking and coughing.

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[Pineapple Pizza sent you a friend request. Do you accept?]

I accepted with a short message. “Nice to meet you, Pineapple Pizza.”

When we’d first gone to Ventosus, Cove had acted as though Ranch’s name was a mistake, something he’d done as a child but wouldn’t as an adult. Pineapple Pizza disproved that and was an absolutely atrocious combination of his tendency to give food-related names to things and his absolute love for puns.

“It’s a perfectly pine name,” he messaged back.

It was even more difficult to ignore the pun over messages than to ignore them in person.

[Pineapple Pizza has gifted you 120 story passes]

With the story passes, cove and I ‘Blazed,’ as he put it, through the story, jumping past cutscenes and gaining levels with each pass. Out of simplicity, when given the option, I built Blaze’s stats as close to mine as possible, spending an inordinate amount of my experience points on the teleport ability.

I'd have to find or purchase some abilities, such as transform, elsewhere.

“So this is where you ended up?” The happy jingle of the dock played through the speakers as Blaze and Pineapple stepped off the airship and onto the decks outside of Al-Azmehr.

I nodded, pointing out significant locations as we passed. “That’s where we ran into the Storyteller,” I said. Cove never messaged back, jumping to the closest sidequest and collecting another ‘story’ for the next stage.

Our characters existed in the city, passing through the woods where I’d encountered the mysterious Black Cat and White Owl. Half expecting them to appear, I was relieved when I saw neither hide nor father of the two terrifying presences.

The merchant sat where Sinbad and I had first encountered him, surrounded by players once more. Cove and I glitched through the other players, clicking on the Merchant to start the story. Puppet-like, the merchant started his speech.

Although I’d known it would happen, disappointment still prodded at my chest. As the cutscene began, I reached out mentally, searching for a spark of life in the program. My frustration grew as the Merchant stuck to his script, and I skipped rapidly through the text, disturbed by the behavior. I was grateful when the initial cutscene finally ended. Having already collected what we needed, I clicked on the Merchant again.

This time, he froze for a few seconds, blinking. His hand shot to his chest, and I would have sworn his eyes found me through the screen. There, hard to grasp, and at the edge of my senses, I could almost feel a presence.

At the unexpected scene, I held my breath in anticipation.

“You seem familiar….do I know you?”

My breath escaped in one rapid rush.