Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

10

That day I couldn't really think of anything that would help the situation. Everything I threw at Ben, he deflected, with either an "already tried that," "do you even know how ghosts work," or just a disappointed sigh. It would've made me feel stupid but with each idea I just got more motivated. I'm going to get you out of my hair as soon as I can, goddamnit, and then we can both be happy.

Eventually I returned to my original train of thought of what Alex Hall would've done if he just understood. He was the closest—well, only—person I could think of who's experienced this and didn't completely throw him out the window. There's gotta be something he tried to get Ben out.

"How do you even work, anyway?" I blurted, realizing I had no idea what he really could or couldn't do in the first place. "What does 'free' even mean to you? So far, you haven't really explained that part too much."

Ben paused, as if just realizing why I was having a little trouble figuring out everything by myself. "...oh. Right. I guess I haven't."

"Yeah. Just thought about maybe telling me something useful?"

"Well, sorry, but I don't think anyone has genuinely wanted to help me in a long time. They just kind of...try to take pictures, or see if they can get me to prank someone by electrocuting them."

"You mean you've only ever been owned by, like, some 7-year-old Logan Paul fan?"

"Who's Logan Paul?"

"Nevermind."

"Anyway, nobody's really asked how I work before. So I've never bothered actually putting it into words."

"I'm here all day, man." I stretched my arms and lazily sank into bed, waiting until he was ready to get into all sorts of weird ghost technicalities. He thought for longer than I'd expected he would, and finally clapped his hands together in preparation.

"Alright. I think I've got the basics." He turned to me and heaved a giant breath. "Basically, I'm kinda tethered to whatever cartridge I'm in. That's why I can't see past the first floor of your house unless I come out—"

"Ha. Come out."

"Oh, because you're as straight as a ruler. I'm giving an explanation here."

"Sorry, I just had to say it."

"Anyway, I have to be out in the open to really do anything outside the game. The most I can do is shock people and make them shit their pants."

"Just say you scare them, man. I'm getting a horrible visual."

"And I'm not sorry. Also, I can get transferred to other things but only if they're connected to each other somehow. I think I can travel through Bluetooth now, so that's better than telephone poles.

"And something I just now realized, like, five minutes ago, is that I can lose my memory."

My head perked up at that. "Wait, so what if you can lose memory? Is it just that you forget like a normal person, or is it some Alzheimer's shit that's going on in there?"

"Not sure. All I know is that whenever I get set back, or I change 'bases,'" he put air quotes around the word like he couldn't find a better way to phrase it, "I just...lose some of my memories. I couldn't remember who Alex Hall was, and I'm literally the guy who ruined his life and infected Reddit users' computers with an unstoppable virus. Or, well, me.

"But when he burned the cartridge, I got sucked back into another one. Lost all my progress." At that, he widened his eyes in realization. "Oh, god, my entire existence is a metaphor."

"Ew. Gaming metaphors are objectively the worst."

"You see now why you have to help me, right?"

"Absolutely. I'll try my best as long as 'my best' doesn't involve me dying or anything."

"I really doubt it's going to come to that, but say what you gotta." Ben looked to the side thoughtfully, then stuck out his hand like he was unsure of himself. "Do we have a deal...? You're really going to try and help me out?"

Without a second thought I smiled and shook his hand, pretending to sip some tea. "Sure. Deal."