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The Tethered Mind: Skyratchet
Chapter 7: A Whisper in the Dream

Chapter 7: A Whisper in the Dream

The blinking cursor flashed steadily on the computer screen, a pulsing rhythm that seemed to grow louder with each blink. It was familiar—the desk, the screen, the hum of the computer fan. Everything in its place, the faint glow of the monitor illuminating the dim room. I sat at my desk, staring at the blank document in front of me. The words wouldn’t come. They never did. Just that damn blinking cursor, mocking me.

Blink.

I felt an odd heaviness in the air, like a weight pressing down but not on me, but my mind. The room felt... wrong. It was my room, sure. The same place I’d spent countless hours playing games, procrastinating, and everything in between. But something about it felt off, like I was standing in a memory that wasn’t entirely my own.

Blink.

I sighed, rubbing my eyes, the tiredness pulling at me. When did I last sleep? The screen glowed a little too bright, almost like it was alive. I squinted at it, trying to make sense of the shifting pixels. Words were forming on the screen, flashing in and out too quickly to read.

“Welcome back, Gaines.”

The voice made me jump, even though I recognized it immediately. Dave’s smooth, infuriating voice. I didn’t turn around. He wasn’t physically there, after all. He was always in my head.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision as the screen flickered again. The flashing words became clearer now, even though I couldn’t quite read them. Something felt wrong with this whole setup. It was as though I was supposed to be doing something, but I couldn’t remember what.

"You seem… distracted,” Dave said, his voice deceptively calm. “Mind if I offer a suggestion?”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, sure. Enlighten me, Dave.”

The blinking words on the screen grew sharper, but still incomprehensible. It was like watching a dream within a dream, only I couldn’t wake up. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but they felt foreign—heavy, like they didn’t belong to me.

Dave’s voice became a low hum, almost soothing, as if he was trying to calm me. “You know, Gaines, I’ve been thinking. About the Administrator's offer. It could solve a lot of problems.”

The cursor blinked faster.

“What problems, Dave?” I muttered, my fingers twitching over the keys. “I’ve got enough problems as it is without whatever you’re about to suggest.”

His voice softened, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying too hard to sound casual. “Oh, just the small matter of survival, old boy. I mean, you’re running out of options, aren’t you? The Administrator can give you an upgrade. Something permanent. Something… strong. Wouldn’t that make things a lot easier for you?”

Upgrade. Accept. Administrator.

The words flashed on the screen now, clearer, repeating over and over again. They didn’t make sense, but my eyes were drawn to them anyway. I stared at the screen, feeling an odd pull, as though something was reaching into my mind.

“No thanks,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’m not looking to become more ‘integrated.’ You know that’s a trap.”

The screen flickered again, and now, it wasn’t just words. The desk in front of me rippled, like water, and for a moment, I thought I was sinking. The room shifted, the walls warping. My surroundings stretched, elongating, until my desk and chair seemed miles away, yet I was still sitting there, glued to the spot.

“It’s not a trap,” Dave continued, his voice calm, but now a bit closer. “It’s the only way. You can’t go back to the way things were. Not anymore. You’ve seen too much, done too much.”

The computer screen flashed again, but this time, the words seemed to crawl out of it, twisting into shapes—tendrils of light reaching for me. The monitor distorted, rippling like the surface of a lake, the text morphing into something darker, almost alive. My heart pounded as I tried to pull away, but my body wouldn’t respond.

“I’m not interested, Dave,” I gritted out, trying to keep my voice steady. But I couldn’t look away from the screen.

Dave’s voice slipped lower, more coaxing. “Why fight it? The Administrator can give you what you need—power, strength. A way to control your environment, to control your fate. You can’t avoid the inevitable, Gaines. And the Administrator… well, she can make sure you stay in the game. Without it, you might not last long. And we both know you’re not ready to leave.”

The room started to spin. The edges of my vision blurred, the blinking words growing louder. ACCEPT THE UPGRADE. It was everywhere now, not just on the screen, but floating in the air, etched into the walls, written on my skin.

“I don’t need her help,” I said, my voice wavering, but my mind was losing focus. The cursor was blinking faster, the words flashing harder, making my head spin. I could feel myself slipping, falling deeper into the dream.

The floor beneath me rippled, and suddenly, I wasn’t sitting at the desk anymore. The room had melted away, and I was standing in a vast, empty space. Everything was black, the ground beneath me like glass, reflecting the flashing words that filled the air. UPGRADE. ACCEPT. ADMINISTRATOR.

Dave’s voice echoed from every direction, smooth, insistent. “Why resist, Gaines? This is your chance. The Administrator will ensure you’re stronger than ever before. Don’t you want that?”

The floor cracked beneath my feet, and I stumbled, reaching out for something to hold onto. There was nothing. The black glass beneath me shattered, sending me plunging into the void below. As I fell, the flashing words followed me, swirling around in a whirlwind of light.

UPGRADE. ACCEPT.

I could feel Dave pressing in on my thoughts, trying to push me toward the choice, trying to make me believe that this was the only way. The void swallowed me, pulling me deeper, and his voice was the only thing left.

“Come on, Gaines. It’s the smart choice. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

“No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the abyss.

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out. The flashing words, the constant pressure—it was suffocating.

The dream warped again. I was back at the desk, but this time, it was submerged in water. The computer was flickering, half-sunk, but still glowing with those damn words. UPGRADE. ACCEPT.

And there, sitting in the chair across from me, was Dave. Not just a voice in my head this time—his form was hazy, flickering, but there he was. A twisted version of me, maybe, or maybe a shadow of something else.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“You can’t win without the upgrade,” Dave said, his voice unnervingly calm. “You’ll fail. You’ll die. But with it, you’ll survive, and isn’t that all that matters?”

The water rose higher, swirling around my chest. I couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t drown either. This wasn’t real—none of it was real.

“Get out of my head,” I growled, gripping the edge of the desk, trying to pull myself up.

Dave’s form flickered, his smile widening. “I’m not the one keeping myself here, Gaines. That’s all you.”

The water surged over me, pulling me under. My vision blurred as I sank deeper into the abyss, Dave’s voice still echoing in my mind. UPGRADE. ACCEPT.

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I woke feeling refreshed, the remnants of a dream fading away, as I looked at Dave standing in the corner of the room.

“How long was I out?” I asked, giving myself the usual stretch, although it wasn’t needed in this place. Everything here felt alert and alive, like I was constantly refreshed and ready to get on with things.

“Just four hours, old boy! The usual in your case, it seems,” Dave replied while polishing his glasses.

Ping.

A text message flashed on my UI as I sat up in bed, still shaking off the lingering effects of the strange dream. I rubbed my eyes and blinked at the screen in front of me.

Iggy: "Hey, Pipsqueak, when you’re done with your beauty sleep, head over. Got something to show ya. Don’t worry, it’s shiny and won’t bite… probably.”

I snorted, tossing the blanket aside. “Beauty sleep, huh?” I muttered to myself. For a guy who barely slept, Iggy had a lot to say about it.

I glanced over at Dave, who was still in the corner polishing his glasses with a methodical, almost obsessive motion. “I’m guessing we’re off to see what Iggy’s been tinkering with?”

Dave gave me a sharp nod, his expression as unreadable as ever. “It would appear so, old boy. Beauty sleep has now been completed.”

I grumbled, stretching my arms. My joints felt as loose as ever in this virtual world, but the dream, though faded, still left me rattled in ways I couldn’t quite shake off yet.

Dave didn’t say anything, but I could feel his gaze on me, as if he was inspecting me, waiting for a reaction.

“Right,” I said, activating my teleportation ability, eager to test it out again. I focused on a spot just outside Iggy’s workshop. The familiar tingle of energy surged through me as I vanished from the room and reappeared moments later outside the cluttered entrance.

I tapped on the door before walking in, the smell of metal, grease, and Iggy’s latest experiments filling the air.

Iggy’s workshop was a chaotic blend of futuristic tech, alien craftsmanship, and sheer unpredictability—exactly what you’d expect from him. The space was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the outside, a feature made possible by the virtual world of Harmony. The walls were made from iridescent, shifting metal, gleaming with shades of copper and green under the flickering overhead lights. Alien symbols and circuitry were etched across every surface, occasionally lighting up with pulses of energy.

Workbenches lined the perimeter, each cluttered with tools and half-assembled gadgets. Everything had a sense of controlled chaos: wires dangling from strange devices, scraps of alien tech littering the floor, and blueprints sprawled haphazardly across holographic displays. Shelves seemed to grow out of the walls themselves, holding containers filled with exotic materials—crystals that glowed faintly, metal alloys from distant worlds, and objects that defied explanation.

The centerpiece of the room was an enormous worktable that dominated the space. The table itself seemed like a piece of alien technology—constantly shifting its surface to accommodate whatever project Iggy was working on. It could reshape itself into different sections, sprouting mechanical arms or extra platforms as needed. Half-built robots, weapon prototypes, and strange contraptions were scattered across it, all in varying stages of completion.

Despite the chaos, there was an undeniable logic to the madness. Everything in Iggy’s workshop had a purpose, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious. The whole place thrummed with the low hum of machinery and the occasional burst of static from experimental tech. Every inch of the workshop felt alive, as though it was just one spark away from turning into a full-blown lab accident—or a technological breakthrough.

Iggy was hunched over the center bench, tinkering with some contraption I couldn’t even begin to name.

“About time, Sleeping Beauty,” he said without looking up. “I was starting to think you’d dozed off forever.”

I rolled my eyes. “What can I say? I need my beauty sleep. You wouldn’t understand.”

Iggy finally glanced at me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I wouldn’t. Haven’t slept in… what’s it been now? Almost two years?”

I blinked. “Wait, two years? You haven’t slept at all?”

He shrugged, fiddling with some wires. “Got an upgrade. Cheap, actually. Most people get it right away—no need for sleep. You should’ve done the same by now.”

I turned toward Dave, narrowing my eyes. “And why haven’t you ever suggested that one?”

Dave looked up from his glasses, placing them back on his nose with a practiced motion. “Ah, well, Gaines, I thought it best not to overload your... delicate human mind with such drastic changes. After all, some degree of sleep is essential to maintain your fragile condition, is it not?”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Uh-huh,” I said in mock confirmation. Did he think I couldn’t handle it, or did he just like the idea of me being unconscious from time to time?

Dave opened his mouth to respond but then paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his usually stoic features. “Perhaps I... miscalculated. It’s possible that such an upgrade might not be as detrimental to your mind as I previously assumed.”

“Right,” I said, smirking. “I might just do that when I level up next.”

Iggy snorted, clearly entertained by our back-and-forth. Well my one sided conversation, from Iggy’s perspective, it looked like I was talking to thin air. “Well, now that your beauty routine is sorted out and your lover’s quarrel is over, I’ve got something better to show you.” He picked up a small metallic card, its surface covered in strange symbols that glowed faintly. “Remember this?”

“The chip from the labyrinth,” I said, stepping closer. “You figured something out?”

“Damn right I did,” Iggy said, his grin widening. “At first, it was just a scrambled mess. Symbols were all jumbled up, and the tech looked ancient. But after a lot of fiddling”—he waved the card in front of me—“I managed to crack part of the encryption.”

I leaned in, my curiosity piqued. “What did you find?”

“Nothing good, Pipsqueak,” Iggy said, his grin fading slightly. “This thing’s part of a much bigger system. Looks like it’s tied to something called the ‘Architect Program.’ The card you found—it’s a memory fragment, but it’s not just information. It’s connected to an old directive, some kind of control system.”

“Control system? For what?”

“That’s the kicker,” Iggy said, setting the card down on the workbench. “It’s old, like way older than anything in Harmony. It’s designed to influence the original source code. My guess is, it’s been locked away for a reason.”

Dave, who had been listening quietly, stepped forward. “That is... interesting. I suspect the Administrator may not be aware of this card’s significance.”

“You think?” I asked, glancing at Dave. “You’ve got any theories?”

Dave straightened his glasses. “Nothing conclusive yet, old boy. But I imagine this ‘Architect Program’ predates much of what we know about Harmony. Its existence, if discovered, could pose quite the dilemma for those in control. You may want to tread carefully with this information.”

Iggy looked at me, waiting for me to fill in the missing commentary from Dave. “He says we should tread carefully. The Administrators probably don’t know what we have, and if they did... well, it might not be good for us.”

“Dave’s right. I could activate the small memory file on it now, but I think we should head back to the labyrinth and do it there. Just in case. I’m still digging through the data, but this chip might hold more than just memories—it could be a key to something bigger.”

I looked at the chip, the strange symbols still glowing softly. “What do you think it’s connected to?”

Iggy shrugged. “No clue yet. But I’ll keep digging. In the meantime, we’ve got a mission to focus on, haven’t we? Iddy has sent over the details. The Tarlands won’t wait forever.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. But keep me posted, alright? If that chip leads to something, I want to know.”

“Don’t worry, Pipsqueak,” Iggy said with a grin. “I’ll be sure to yell it loud enough for you to hear, no matter where you are. Now, about this mission…”

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