The High Five

Pressure Sensor

Bobby never expected space to be so boring. Adventure and exploration—forget about it! That was only for the d-realms. Real space travel was a slow death by protocol. Do these steps in this order at this time—no deviations! Leave the thinking to the algorithms. Even the weather in space was boring. Clear skies with a small chance of solar flares—for the next billion years! He almost wished the sun would throw one of its fiery tantrums just to shake things up.

Space was supposed to be a giant leap forward. He thought accomplishing something big in the real world would make him feel different, be different.

When he announced his selection for Project Liftoff, his parents were more relieved than excited. Though they never brought it up, they had been growing increasingly concerned over his gaming habit.

"I guess you won't be needing this rig much longer." His dad indicated the elaborate arrangement of armatures and interlocking screens that made up his Nest. "Once you get out there in the real world and see all it has to offer, there's no going back."

When Bobby first arrived at astronaut training, he thought his dad might be right. So much to absorb! A new place, new knowledge, new skills, new people, and, above all, a new mission. Being part of a crew gave him an emotional charge. Other than family and hospital staff, he had never had any close real-world relationships. But as the weeks passed and the novelty wore off, he began to grow restless. Why didn't they just get on with the mission already? What was the point of all this drilling and physical conditioning? Most of the exercises were for the able-bodied. That was fine for Jess and Tayen, but how could he be expected to do them? The endless rehearsal of ship procedures was even worse. Mindless drudgery. If there was ever an emergency, everything you needed to know was right there on your phlex.

Bobby's thoughts drifted back to the d-realms. A new one called Wormhells had just launched. Instead of different islands, there were wormholes to hellhole planets. And instead of leveling up fantasy characters, you upgraded your mecha, a robo-ship bristling with weapons that you mind-linked into. Bobby started dropping in to play when the others were asleep, often going late into the night.

Ironically, it was Jake, the remote captain, who found him out. Unable to travel Earthside, Jake participated by way of mechanoid personatron. He must have been monitoring the crew's feeds. Jake delivered a stern lecture. "I don't know what you've been told, but gaming is not a harmless pastime. It floods your brain with dopamine and is known to cause sleep loss, anxiety, and other cognitive effects. As communications officer, your decision making has consequences for the entire crew. You need a level head, not an itchy trigger finger."

"Jeez. I'm just blowing off steam. Besides, it helps keep my wits and reflexes sharp." But Bobby knew it was bullshit.

Jake pulled at his hair, his displeasure radiating from the screen. "I'm trusting you," he said at last. "But the moment your gaming starts to affect your performance, you're off the team."

Taking him at his word, Bobby managed to keep his gaming compulsion under control for the remainder of training. Barely. There were times he thought he was going to crawl out of his skin. This is just the training, he kept telling himself. When the real mission begins, it will all be worth it. But he had just been deceiving himself. The mission was a big fucking joke.

Bobby didn't bother keeping his gaming to personal time any more. He slogged through team times and other mandatory chores, rushing back at the first opportunity to the comms room, which served as his new Nest. He climbed the ranks in Wormhells, upgrading to the latest stealth armor and pulse disruptors. He was already counting the days when he would return home and throw himself back into the cradle of his gaming rig. There was no Nest like his own.