Chapter 16 – Dream

“That was one hell of a tough session.” I mutter as I push the lid on my capsule open. “I could use a vacation.”

I get up on my feet and start performing some light stretches. My body is incredibly sore but well rested after staying hooked up for so long. Even though my physical body shows no signs of fatigue, my mind sure as hell does. It feels a little like my brain has become the regular practice grounds for every heavy metal band within a three-kilometer radius. I couldn’t come up with a semi-decent thought even if my life was hanging on the line. I suppose the technical definition of my current state is that I’m a potato.

Yup, it’s that bad.

Mental exhaustion is a common problem for most people who stay hooked up to the capsule for longer than the recommended amount of time. Your thoughts become erratic, and you are more prone to make mistakes. And that is something I can’t afford to do. It’s why I’ve made a habit of taking several breaks during a day and spread them out over a sensible length of time.

Since my character should be in a relatively safe location at the moment, I figure it’s about time for me to take my daily one-hour run. It does wonders for clearing up my mental fatigue, and it helps keep my body from deteriorating too much while staying hooked up to the capsule. As I put on running shorts and an old, well-worn t-shirt, I find myself looking into a mirror. I’ve been trying to keep track of the state of my body for these last three months, and I’m really starting to notice the changes.

While I used to be a man on the lower end of the heavy side, I’m now closer to what one would describe as average. Maybe even slightly thinner. I’ve been trying to put my body on a healthy diet when I am hooked up to the capsule since I don’t really feel the same cravings for sweets and fats as I used to. It’s amazing how my mind can completely shut out one desire while it’s actively indulging in another. Who would ever have thought I would one day claim that videogames are the reason for me losing weight?

Looking at myself like this, I gotta say I actually look pretty good. Handsome, even. Perhaps I should try and pick up girls now and not in a few months when I probably end up looking like a ghoul? Nah, the game has to come before all else. All ready to go, I grab my keys and some earbuds. Hopefully, the run will clear my mind once more.

The morning sun peaks over the horizon as I step outside. It’s kind of chilly, but not as bad as one might expect this late in the summer. It’s far too early in the morning for even the early risers to go to work, but there is still a decent amount of traffic outside. A side effect of releasing technology that eliminates the need for sleep I suppose. Shaking my head, I start jogging down the street while I let my mind tune out as I submerge myself in my favourite music.

I jog for about fifteen minutes or so when my phone rings, abruptly cutting off the music. Stopping in my tracks, I fish my phone out of my pocket and check who the crazy bastard who calls someone at five in the morning is. Well, of course, it’s my father.

“Hey, what’s up dad? You’re up early.” I say in a chipper tone.

A gruff voice replies from the other side. “Hey son, sorry about that. Did I wake you?” He asks. He sounds a little worried about something.

“Nah, I got up a little while ago. I’m out for a run. Is something wrong?” I ask hesitantly.

He clears his throat before he speaks. “Mh, yeah. Something came up. Can we meet somewhere for breakfast? It’s my treat.”

Okay, this is weird. I get a bad feeling. The last time he acted like this was right before he told me mom… No. I close my eyes. Not going there. I take a deep breath before I wipe the thought from my mind. I quickly gather myself while I try to regain my chipper tone. “Sure dad, is it something serious?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed. I’d rather discuss this face to face. Meet up at Jimmy’s Diner in fifteen minutes?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah. See you there.” I reply before he cuts the connection.

Okay, now I really got a bad feeling about this. Did he find out I quit my job? How could he? We don’t know anyone in common who knows what I did. At least I don’t think so? Did he stop by my job yesterday without telling me?

Questions race through my mind as I start to worry. It’s not that dad is such a scary character, but I would just hate for him to find out this way. I wanted to tell him myself. Ideally, sometime after I struck it big. Does he really know though? It might be something else entirely. But why did he then ask to see me at Jimmy’s Diner? That place is too far away from both my old apartment, his house, and either one of our jobs. It’s actually ideally located near where I currently live.

...

Oh fuck, he knows. I wince as a cold shiver runs down my spine. This is bad. My muscles tenses as I start pacing up and down the street. What do I tell him? What can I tell him? I’m not ready for this yet. I need more time. I keep pacing while I draw a few deep breaths. It’s not too late to back out, but I think that would just make the situation that much worse.

I sigh. “I suppose there’s no way around it.” I mutter while shaking my head. “Might as well just get it over with.”

Turning around, I start jogging back the way I came. From where I am, it should only take me about ten minutes to reach Jimmy’s Diner. It’s a much tougher run than it should be, mostly because my body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with my head. Eventually, though, I spot the diner in the distance. Jimmy’s Diner is a testament to times long forgotten. There aren’t many places left that still serve customers on location since people most prefer to order food directly to their homes. Jimmy’s Diner has withstood the test of time, mostly because of a stubborn clientele like my father who refuses to adapt to modern society. ‘You can’t make bacon this good at home, son.’ My father used to say. He might be right, but mostly because normal households can’t supply the amount of grease these diners have spent years collecting.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I prefer not to think about it.

Entering the diner, I quickly look around. I spot my father already sitting in a booth by the window. He waves me over, but I notice he lacks the smile he usually shows whenever he sees me. I take a few slow steps towards him, trying to keep my nerves in check as much as I can. I slip into a seat opposite him, his narrow gray eyes locking onto me.

“Good morning, Ryan.” He says curtly, not breaking his stare.

“Morning, dad.” I say while smiling weakly. I take a deep breath. “Listen…”

“I took the liberty of ordering you some pancakes.” He cuts me off, all the while maintaining eye contact. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Uhm… No, that’s fine…” I mutter.

“I see you have lost some weight.” He keeps his voice even. It kind of freaks me out that he hasn’t even blinked yet.

“Uhm, yeah. I’ve been cutting down on-”

“And you starting exercising?” He interrupts me once more, gesturing at my sweat-stained t-shirt.

“Yeah, as I said-”

“And you quit your job?” His voice strains as a deep furrow are uncovered on his forehead. The blood vein on his temple is starting to throb.

I sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?” He asks.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Because I wanted to follow-”

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” He cuts in once more, his eyes staring daggers at me.

I slam my fist into the table. “Will you just let me explain!?” I yell at him, causing the other customers in the diner to look our way.

“What is there to explain!?” He shouts back at me. “You quit your job and moved into a bad neighbourhood. What possible kind of reason could there be other than something bad has happened to you? Are you using drugs?”

“What!?” I blurt, stunned. “NO!” I yell.

“Then are you dealing!?” He screams at me, his face turning red. “I didn’t raise my son to become a criminal piece of shit!”

“Will you just fucking listen to me!?” I rise to my feet. “I’m not in any trouble! I’m following my dream of becoming a professional gamer.” I shout before I get to filter my words.

He slumps back in his seat, frowning. “...What?”

I breathe heavily, resting my arms on the table. My face is turning beet-red. “I’m following my dream of becoming a professional gamer full-time. I want to make enough money off of it to live on.” I say, struggling to keep my voice from breaking.

“That dream from when you were a kid?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” I say. Glaring at him. My heart is slamming against my chest and my tinnitus flares up, the constant ringing sound cancelling out the sounds from the traffic outside.

Dad is just staring at me with an uncomprehending look on his face. We just sit there, staring at each other for a while. My dad with a look of confusion, me with a determination made of iron. We don’t say anything, but I know we are currently fighting a battle of wills. If I flinch now, then he won’t hesitate to break me.

“Are you out of your mind?” He eventually says. “All this for a stupid game?”

“It’s not a stupid game. It’s a way to make ends meet while doing what I love to do.” I reply. It’s my turn to keep my unwavering gaze at him. “This is happening, dad. I won’t quit until I’ve exhausted all my possibilities.”

He takes a deep breath. “You are aware that you are not a kid anymore, correct?” He asks, sounding ten years older.

“I know. This isn’t about that. It’s what I want to do, dad.” I say, the energy draining from my body as I speak.

“Your mother wouldn’t have approved.”

“No. No, she wouldn’t. Not at first at least.” I sigh, shaking my head. A knot ties in my chest as I struggle for words. “I don’t do this for her… She would have come around eventually.” My shoulders slump as my eyes drops, fixating on the saltshaker on the table in front of me of all things.

Our conversation halts as a nervous-looking waitress walk over with our food. She gives us both an uncertain glance before she wordlessly drops the plates off before she scurries off to tend to the other customers. It’s not until that moment I realise how deathly quiet the diner is.

“It seems like we made a scene.” Dad grunts with a smirk.

“It seems so.” I grin. “At least it isn’t worse than the time aunt Alice mistook the wasabi for being guacamole.”

Dad bursts into laughter. “That’s right! How could I forget about it? I didn’t know that prickly old hag even knew that many swear words.” He grins.

“I hear you. I learned a lot of new things that day that I never could have imagined was possible.” I snicker at the thought.

The tension leaves my body as things seem to finally return to normal. My dad is actually a kind of cool guy, if not a stubborn quick-tempered cow from time to time. But who among us doesn’t have a few flaws? The atmosphere cools down for a while as we consume our breakfast. We catch up on the latest happenings within the family and trade a few jabs back and forth. My dad has always been a rough kind of guy and hasn’t really ever felt the need to hold back his opinion on anything. A trait some say was passed down on me. I personally don’t see it, but that might just be my father’s genetics talking.

It isn’t until we finish eating until my father grows tense once more. Crossing his arms, he gives me a worried look. “Ryan. I need to know where you are heading with this. How long are you going to follow this dream of yours, and what are you going to do if it doesn’t work out?”

I sigh. “I have enough savings to keep going until the end of the month without any income. If I don’t make it by then, then I will go beg to get my job back.” I say. I can feel my throat getting dry just by the thought of abandoning my dream.

“And if that doesn’t work?” He inquires, giving me a stern look.

“Then I’ll take on any job I’m qualified for. I’m not picky. For now, though, I just want to see where this dream takes me.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “And there is nothing I can say or do to sway your mind?”

“Nothing.”

He sighs. “Well, you are a grown man, and I suppose you have to make your own mistakes. Just promise me you’ll quit before it goes too far.” He says, giving me a warm smile.

“Thanks, dad. That means a lot to me.”