Chapter 1:

  Jesse Lucas Johnson

  I'm awake. The sun is shining in through the window by my… bed, only… I'm not – me and… the woman there acting like my mom isn't her. Or, she's her but she isn't my mom. Mine is… old – and I don’t live with her.

  I'm old. I'm 38. I'm 38 and married and-

  Where the f#$@ am I?

  “You're gonna be late,” she says. “Up, up, up!”

  She's groaning and picking up my clothes. I assume they're mine. They're in my room, as I guess that's what this is.

  I climb out of bed and hide my bulging boxers. Jesus Christ.

  Pants, shirt, socks - check, check, check.

  I don't know where I am. This house is relatively small. The bathroom door is open. I assume that's my sister there. She's brushing her teeth. Don't mind if I brush mine.

  Like her, I have brown hair, blue eyes, and a little scar there on my forehead.

  This isn't me. I don't look like this. I'm tall, work out, had braces – had, not have.

  Victoria bumps my leg on the way out. Says, “Move!”

  How do I know her name? What else do I know about me?

  I'm Jesse Lucas Johnson, 18, dork, pizza delivery boy – avid astral projector gone reality shifter.

  What does that even mean?

  Further searching reveals my level.

  Level: 1 Human

  HP: 44

  Intelligence: 70

  Strength: 2

  Dexterity: 2

  Luck: 7

  Vitality: 2

  Stamnia: 2

  What the actual f#$@?

  My vision blurring. A menu screen and a BGM playing softly in my head. It’s a jazzy rendition of a Christmas song. I see the name Jesse Lucas Johnson, a picture of… that; the items currently in my possession, in a list, and variouis factoids….

  Mom’s beckoning me to breakfast. I close the menu.

  Waffles, bacon, eggs – scrambled – and a glass of 2% milk.

  I scarf it up. I'm ravenous – f#$@ my diet. What diet? I'm 18. I'm in shape, more or less. Young and healthy. Weak, but all right.

  I'm gonna miss the bus. I think that thought and remember I have a car.

  I slip on my shoes, grab my backpack, and hurry outside, where a light snow melts.

  The seat is so cold. My windshield’s covered in ice. I get out with my scraper and scrape it. I’m seeing things; each scrape scraped came with a briefly flashing number: 1, every time.

  I sit back down and start the car.

  What a piece of junk. I miss my Beemer. M3. Not too shabby. A guilty pleasure, I suppose.

  I know how to get to school. In a flash, I have split vision. The punky boy I am is in my body, drives my car; he's me on my way to work.

  The reality hits me. A shiver runs down my spine. And no, it's not just the cold. My forehead is sweating. I'm a goddamn mess.

  At school, I find my parking spot. Only one day before Christmas break. That explains the BGM.

  That menu. What was that?

  There it is again. It’s translucent; but still, it disrupts my vision.

  I bump into… that's Alexis A. She's so very hot, thinks I'm not.

  Sorry, I wave. I still haven't spoken but do to say, “Shit.” My voice is tinny, annoying.

  I feel small here. I am small here. I was tall. Over six feet, 185 lbs. of solid muscle.

  Another menu. There’s a picture of me beneath my name.

  I’m in a suit. I’m handsome and smiling.

  James Ryan Cobb

  Level 3 Human

  HP: 88

  Intelligence: 47

  Strength: 12

  Dexterity: 9

  Luck: 3

  Stamina: 8

  Weird. But, more importantly; what is the kid doing now as me? He's… looking through my phone at…. Those are nudes Katie sent me.

  Come on, dude - that's my wife!

  He's sneaking off to the bathroom. How utterly disturbing.

  He's gonna get me fired. I'm gonna kick his ass. I'm gonna… not kick his ass, because how could I? I'm him, and he's me!

  Wait! – where even am I?

  Michigan. Damn. My me is in Florida. Tough drive, but I could make it.

  No – the menu says I only have $80 bucks.

  Actually not bad for eighteen.

  Whatever. Stuff to do.

  Class. World History, AP. It’s weird that I feel so compelled to comply to the routine of this life.

  Hardly remember this history shizz but I guess I can… wait – I do. I remember because geek-boy-wife-gawker does.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I am he.

  He better not f#$@ my wife. Seriously, don't. I consider that a crime.

  #

  Gym sucked because I suck. I loved gym growing up. This kid is a spaghetti noodle. That's what I'm call him. Noodle. Noodle boy.

  Noodle has no friends. Noodle has no enemies. Noodle is a lonely loner, a silent passerby. He’s creepy and feeble, even at work.

  That, I admit, is sad, I guess. Even I feel bad for the twerp, and look what I think he did to me. He took my me from me. He snatched my body. Because I damn sure know I didn't snatch his.

  He set an intention before bed. I can see that; I can read his mind.

  I will wake up cool and successful. I will wake up cool and successful. I will wake up cool and successful. He said it over and over and over again. And then he did his Out-Of-Body thing.

  Cool and successful? I'm flattered, but the result – it definitely sucks! I remember it as if I’d done it. I remember it because I am he. Noodly, Noodly, Noodle boy. Noodle-boy-geek-geek-geek.

  This sucks.

  So does lunch.

  There's a reason I’m not a teacher. I don't even wanna smell this shit.

  Bony hamburger, burnt fries. A carton of chocolate milk.

  Off to Advanced Chemistry III. My crush, I'm afraid, will be there. Why on earth would I fear that? I don't know, but I do – I do! I do!

  Gotta get a hold of these nerves, buddy. Gotta… maintain… calm.

  My heart sinks. There she is. Emily Guerella. The jocks call her gorilla. She's anything but, and they know it. But even they can't touch her butt.

  What am I saying? She's a kid of eighteen! We must be merging minds. We must share a similar… taste.

  OOH! Lucky me – we’re lab partners!

  I… sit with her, kinda close.

  “Hey,” she says when I sit down. She doesn't look at me though. Bad sign.

  I smile, nod at her real cool, slowly, side-eyed, with confidence.

  She doesn't smile back.

  I'm so glad I can't see myself right now – not me-me – the me I am right now.

  Whoops – I guess I can. Panoramic view. This is so weird. Oh my god, my hair’s sticking up like Alfalfa. Why didn't I take a shower again?

  Because I'm not me, I remember.

  I shrink. She wasn't impressed anyway.

  What a terrible feeling. Is this what it feels like? Being young, horny, but uncool?

  Christ. I can't deal with this. I'm out.

  #

  Eternal brightness. Infinite whiteness. I'm nothingness. I'm….

  #

  I gasp. “What the f#$@?!”

  Everyone's staring at me. I'm… Jesse Lucas Johnson, in Chemistry, and the menu’s up again.

  So, apparently, I can blank out. I can be nothing, in nothingness. Or I can be this sprout.

  Emily is taking notes. I already know this stuff.

  In all fairness, this kid’s bright. I play the market for other people for a reasonable cut. But this kid is an ace – a programmer, a hacker, an engineer. I feel smarter just being in this brain. Really smart.

  Super smart.

  Maybe he hacked reality….

  From his perspective, he thinks, maybe – yeah.

  It all started with unanswerable questions, focus, and powerful intent.

  Consciousness is everything. That's what he thinks he's learned, anyway. I never really thought about it. Why would I? Who would?

  But there's more to it than that, he thinks.

  What's that? He doesn’t like me prying in his head? Everything’s a bit fuzzy there. The more I dig, the more it is.

  Consciousness is everything, and physical reality is its game.

  No – A game. A video game. A VR.

  There’s a lot.

  That’s… just stupid enough to be true. But he's not the only one that thinks that. His idol, BC, a physicist, does. And here I am. This is real. I am Me, but living the life of he.

  Why do I keep thinking that?

  Whoa – we thought that simultaneously. We're… connected.

  He's… on lunch, and… looking through my phone again.

  I don't like this kid. I think he sucks. He takes my life as a joke. I'm just a stereotypical moderate success story he’s curiously trying on. He's done this before. A million other times. With heroes. With murderers. With any given type of person you can think of.

  Will this last forever? What if he kills me? What if this kills me – my me that I’m not right now but am.

  He’s laughing. This is part of it, I feel. He says he wouldn’t regret it if I died. No remorse. In fact, I think he's actually planning something like that!

  #

  This car is such a piece of junk. But Mom's… hers could make the trip.

  How much do I make a night? Like, $90 bucks tops; but tomorrow's Friday – payday. Can I hold out till then? Can I be this kid that long?

  What choice do I really have?

  I'll cash my check, steal Mom’s car, and drive to my real self, demand answers.

  He's laughing at me. From within me, my me, he's laughing. Come and get it, he warns. Come and find out.

  Oh, you've got it coming, I think, loudly – whatever that means. But hey – it worked. He heard. He heard me think the thought, and he laughed at me in response.

  #

  I used to do this once. Deliver pizza. I worked at a major pizza chain. I met Katie there. She was my boss. It was… amazing. She was. It was. The whole thing.

  #

  Back home. I'm exhausted. That was the fastest I've driven, jogged – hustled – in a while. $123 bucks. Not bad. Not bad. Seems I can make even this kid charming.

  #

  Saturday morning. Katie would be at Pilates. Or, rather – she is – I can see that.

  I can see a lot of things. We didn't have sex last night. The dorky dork boy couldn't seduce her. No game. Didn't try.

  He settled for the phone pics again. I swear to God….

  Mom didn't make breakfast this time. She's in the living room, on the couch. Coffee.

  COFFEE.

  I make a cup. She's shocked.

  “Since when do you drink coffee?”

  I shrug. Smile, take a sip.

  “You've been so quiet lately.”

  Another shrug, another sip.

  There's a sadness in her eyes.

  I sit next to her, lean on her, smiling.

  She ruffles my hair.

  I miss Katie.

  #

  The kid banks at Majestic. I deposit the check and hit the road.

  This car had better make it. Don't have the heart to take Mom’s.

  Mom is a real nice lady. In all fairness, a bit of a MILF.

  BUT…

  I won’t dwell on such thoughts, because people don't do that to other people – right?!

  He laughs again.

  What an evil little bastard. I'm on my way. Hope you're ready.

  #

  This is an insufferable drive. The kids has no radio and his phone sucks. I have just enough money to get to Florida and buy lunch.

  Better make it count. Craving Taco Bell but it's not filling. Settle for a number 1 at BK.

  That was a mistake, but we won’t go into deets.

  How far now? From Tennessee?

  #

  It's midnight. I'm exhausted. I can't… do it… anymore.

  I park at a rest stop for the night. Starving. But I sleep.

  #

  It's beyond a nightmare. This is. It is.

  I'm not crying. Probably just hormones. Or maybe I'm just tired. Katie showered and walked out naked. He stared and it pisses me off.

  My personality is rubbing off on him, his on mine. What if I become him? Assimilate? And he me.

  I can't let that happen. That's my life! My wife! My Yioyet. My baby. My little girl he's holding out as if she's toxic waste.

  That's right, give her to Mommy and I won't kill you.

  He's getting annoyed with my threats. He's… giving me a warning. What does that mean?

  Keep it up, and I'll lock you out.

  #

  I sped without speeding. I'm home. In town, anyway.

  7-Elevens going up everywhere. Since when did the Wal-Mart close down?

  Whatever. I'm almost there – almost home….

  #

  I realize I can't just burst into the house. So, I wait.

  I wait and I pester the body thief with thoughts. Come on, little turd. Come on. Come outside. I know you're in there.

  He’s screwing with me. He keeps walking to the front door and grabbing the knob, pausing, and then walking off.

  He just kissed Violet on the forehead. He just spanked Katie’s butt.

  That's it. I'm going in.

  I'm small. No match for me.

  But I am me. And he's still a geek inside.

  I'm at the door. It's locked. Very funny.

  I kick it, hard. 1 HP. Again, almost fall. 1 HP.

  Again. 1.

  Again! 2.

  Again! 1.

  I'm in such a rage when the door suddenly opens that it doesn't hit me until an old man does.

  An old man, and kinda fat. Red-faced, white T and in glasses.

  That's his fist.

  That's… nobody I know, from in my house, and he’s kicking my ass.

  And it hurts.

  2 hp. 4 hp.

  5.

  3.

  4.

  I only have 24 left!

  I run.

  The word Fleeing pops up in the bottom left corner of my vision.

  I'm a bloody mess and stumbling, and he says he's calling he cops.

  Keys. Car. Driving. Hauling effing ass!

  The kid is taunting me. Jesse is. Laughing.

  If you wanna win the game, you gotta level up.

  I don't know what that means.

  He's at the gym, working out.

  I drive that way. I know where that is. Only it isn't there. There's only this derelict building. Its door is open, and a trail of blue dots lead inside.

  Inside, on a solitary pedestal, is something glowing. I creep closer, carefully, in case of… I don't know – the homeless.

  It looks like a watch, or a bracelet. I touch it, and it’s warm, and it tingles.

  “Do you want to play the game?” a resonant booming voice asks from seemingly everything.

  I don't answer; I in fact jump back, afraid.

  “You don't really have much choice.”

  It dawns on me that it’s the kid.

  “I just want my life back,” I say. “My wife. My family. My kid.”

  “Like I said…” it says, the voice.

  The watch thing rises. It's in a background of white and blue. It's an item, like on a video game. It's just hovering there – spinning, shining.

  I reach out and take it. It immediately grips my wrist.

  It glows there, a watch, and then it fades.

  I fall asleep there where I stand.

  I awake as me again. I’m me, Ryan Cobb – the real me. But I’m smoking, driving, and in a car I no longer own. Oh my God – I’m me, but twenty-two!