Nano Bytes - A Collection of Short SciFi Stories

Arethmore by MadMikeMarsbergen

1

Punch in, slip on, drop out.

Holding a brand-new copy of Legacy of Arethmore, Harris once again read the video game's back-of-box description while it installed on his system. He'd read it at least ten times now. The big guy with the acne scars had said it was the best game ever. The reviews for it were all nines and tens—even from WeH8Games, who were notorious for their anti-game rhetoric. And every single one of the thirty people in line had had a copy of the game in their hands. This was gonna be great.

Harris' system played a victory song, indicating the install was complete. Thrumming with excitement, he saw the boot-up screen on his display: a noble knight, silver sword in hand, staring off into a swirling sunset of pinks and purples, his steel-grey armour painted with the pastel colours of the sky; by his side was a beautiful wench with red hair and a green gown. Just like the game's box art.

Since the cartridge had already been punched into the slot, the only thing left to do was to slip on the mask and enter the world of Arethmore. Harris grabbed the full-face mask, which looked more like a helmet, and tugged it over his head. It was a tight fit, but the spongy material lining the inside ensured it wasn't painful to wear—even for a five- or six-hour marathon session.

Really feeling like a knight, he transferred his system's display to the mask with a simple thought. The room around him disappeared, instead replaced with the desktop and the game's boot-up screen. Harris' eyes travelled to the PLAY button, directing the cursor as they did so, and he pushed it with his mind.

Immediately, diamonds, emeralds, rubies—gemstones of all kinds—rained down upon him and bounced off the black floor at Harris' feet. An enormous logo appeared, glittering, with the swell of strings and horns. GEMFLOW GAMES, it read, looking larger than life itself.

And then he was there. Arethmore.

Harris looked left and right, taking in the sun-washed, flower-filled meadows and shadowy forests around. A too-blue sky encompassed all above him. The air was full of smells, from sickly sweet to pleasantly plain. In his head, what sounded like a harpsichord played a folksy, soothing melody, mixing beautifully with the sounds of chirping birds, buzzing insects and croaking toads. He looked down at his body, seeing the shiny armour he wore. Thumping his steel boots against the grassy ground, Harris smiled at the satisfying sound it made and the feel of it against his heels. At his side was a scabbard, and a sword sheathed within it.

A large pond sat in front of Harris, with swans gliding across its glassy surface, and beyond that was a quaint hamlet. He would have to walk the road around the pond to get there; he didn't dare swim in all that armour.

Harris was about to set out when he felt a jerking sensation at the back of his head—like having the floor tugged out from beneath him, but up at his skull. Suddenly reality came back, and too quickly. He felt nauseous, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"Still hopping around, playing these useless games." Dad's voice.

Harris turned to see his father—a big, hardheaded man—standing behind him, turning the mask in his hands this way and that. "I'm done work for the day," Harris said. "I want to relax."

"These games get you nowhere. Instead of being a dork, why not do something worthwhile, like look for a girlfriend." Dad threw the mask down on the desk with such little care Harris winced.

"It's a little hard, Dad."

"Maybe if you didn't work at a pet store. Girls generally don't go in wanting to take home two babies."

"I'm not a baby."

Dad nodded to the stack of video games. "Sure looks like it."

Harris said nothing, feeling humiliated.