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Prologue

Prologue

The doorbell rang, that annoying tune his mother had set it to years ago when his father had still been around. A catchy Christmas number he’d now learned to loathe all year.

Back then, it had all been different. Life at home had been easier. Simpler. Gideon Ferrell hadn’t found a way to retreat into video games and pretend that his problems didn’t exist. He’d had a healthy, happy family, and his mom had smiled, too.

Jingle bells, jingle bells

Jingle all the way!

The doorbell rang again. Gideon let his hand hover over the crappy old VR helmet his brother had donated the money for and groaned, knowing that as long as he was around and logged out of the game, the doorbell would keep on ringing.

She’d make an excuse, of course. She couldn’t hear it over the tv, or “why would she need to answer the door when she had a big strapping man in the house?” That last one was fair in one sense, given that Gideon paid hardly any rent to live here.

“Hello?” he said, sighing as he opened the door, confusion in his eyes when he saw a man and a woman standing there. At first, he thought they were FedEx employees, in their purple and black polo shirts, until he saw the little logo on the chest of an 8-bit mushroom cloud with the words Digital Supernova embossed beneath it.

“Are you Gideon Fleetwood?” the woman asked, referring to the sheet on her clipboard.

Gideon didn’t answer at first, his eyes fixed on the large box that rested on the grass. It looked large enough to contain a coffin.

“Sir?” she repeated, her smile warmer than the summer’s day behind them.

“Yes,” Gideon said, his voice catching. “Yes, I’m Gideon Fleetwood.”

A thought came to him. Who in the hell in the real world knew his avatar’s name? After playing so much

Obsidian

lately, he had almost overlooked the small detail, but the truth was that his real name was Gideon Ferrell. Yet he had never told anyone what his

Obsidian

name was…

Right?

“Package for you, sir. If you could sign here, here, and here, please.”

Gideon did, mouth dry as cotton as she smiled again and handed Gideon a small gold envelope.

“Where would you like the package, sir?” the man asked, taking his place at the side of the box and grabbing two convenient handles. The woman grabbed the other side.

“Er…” Where

did

Gideon want the package? Forget that he had no idea what the hell was inside, if his mother saw that any of her ‘public’ rooms (as she liked to think of them) were clogged up with something of that size, she’d throw a hissy fit. “Straight up the stairs, first door on your right.”

The pair nodded, lifting the box with ease and carrying it past Gideon, slowing down and navigating carefully as they hit the stairs. A legend on the box saying Caution. Fragile in large red letters.

“Who is it?” his mother’s voice called from the living room. She had to shout to hear over her daily viewing of

The Price is Right.

Good question, mom.

“Nothing. Just a package!”

“For me?” she called.

“For me,” he said, pushing the door closed and sitting on the stairs, gold envelope in hand. His mom shouted something else, but he wasn’t listening, his hands shaking as he ripped open the envelope and extracted the letter.

The paper was crisp, the letters printed in clean ink. That same mushroom cloud was slotted in the top right corner of the page.

Gideon’s eyes hurriedly scanned the letter. He had to read it several times to fully take in what it was saying. Words like “sponsorship,” and “monthly salary,” and “boosted promotions” jumped out at him, the whole thing ending with the scrawling signature of a CEO he had never heard of.

Eyes brimming with tears, Gideon ran up the stairs to the sounds of the man and woman placing the box down with a grunt.

“Any particular place?” they said, both struggling to fit into the bedroom alongside the box which they had taken the liberty of unwrapping. Cardboard flapped to the floor to reveal a sleek black oval gaming pod, its onyx glass reflecting rays of sunlight from the window in its brilliance.

“You can’t be serious,” Gideon said.

“Oh, we are,” the woman smiled.

“Congratulations, sport. Welcome aboard.” He paused, looking at the letter, which threatened to fall out of Gideon’s hand. “Unless, of course, you

don’t

want to sign that contract and return it to us?”

Gideon shook his head, unable to find the words. He guided the man and woman in setting up the pod, finding the right power sockets and a way to manipulate it so that it fit, somewhat snugly, within his room.

When it was in place and installed, it didn’t leave room for much else in his bedroom, but he didn’t care. He’d already signed the document and eagerly handed it to the Digital Supernova employees. He wouldn’t need the bathroom, bed, or any food as long as he was safe within the pod.

“If you have any questions or concerns, just get in touch with our customer service line, here,” the man said, pointing to a small guide he had handed to Gideon after the installation. “This is an official Praxis full immersion pod, so your characters and game data from Obsidian will automatically transfer over to your profile once you’ve logged in.”

“Thanks,” Gideon managed. “Thank you so much.”

“Do us proud,” the woman said with a wink.

Gideon thought he loved her. The man, too. The sweet bearers of this amazing, glorious, wonderful news.

He stood staring at the pod long after the delivery folks had gone. He could see his reflection in its surface. Could see the ports and plug-ins along its side. He would need help to get inside and set it all up, but he didn’t care. He had made it. Finally, after all those years of putting in the hours and grinding, somehow, he had made it.

Gideon pressed the button for the pod to open, jumping back slightly as a set of hydraulics raised the roof and opened the side. With trembling fingers, he held the instruction manual in his hand, grinned from ear to ear, and ran downstairs to tell his mother the good news.

That everything was going to be okay from here on out.

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