Among his friends, Collins always needed to be at the helm. In the game, his direction was law. As commander of his team, he always knew what to do. Following the grid uplink, the makers of the Arcadian Fortress series, Helios Inc., had even added him into cutscenes of the new expansion pack. It was an honor that he would always cherish. Among the Arcadian gamers, Collins was a legend.
On good nights, the whole team would be logged on, and they’d get a game or two of first-person shooter action. Then, of course, Troy would have to go to bed, followed by Simon and Riya, who always logged out at the same time. Malachi would stay with him for a few more games, and when he’d leave, Collins would switch over to the newest single-player campaign, released with the recent expansion.
Arcadian Fortress’s latest story arc hadn’t been received well by the players. For whatever reason, part of the story was told from the point of view of the Draconians. For over a decade, the army had all sworn their allegiance to the Arcadians, and now the storyline forced them to sympathize with the enemy. He, too, found it disgusting, but he prided himself on knowing all the lore.
Eventually, playing through the game would take away his work stresses and lull him to sleep. He’d dream of the other planet until it all started again the next day. The sleeplessness took a toll.
The display of his car lit up, and the navigation window slid to the side to make room for an incoming call. It was Collins’s stand-in girlfriend, Margot Brady. He answered, plastering a smile on his face for her benefit.
“Collins!” Margot exclaimed. “You’ll never guess who I ran into today.” A long pause settled between them as he waited for her to continue. She didn’t.
“I don’t like guessing games,” he said, settling back further in his seat.
“You’re no fun,” she said with a pout. “But I’ll ignore your all-work, no-play attitude, because you’re going to flip when I tell you.”
“You have my attention, so spit it out.”
“Harry Frank. Chairman of the Energy Commission Board! He’s a member at the Lyons club. You know, the one my father is so fond of? Anyway, I went there with Daddy for brunch, and he sat at the table next to us. I heard him say he would be attending the President’s gala. So, of course, I leaned in and dropped in his ear that we were also planning to attend.”
Collins stifled a groan. “We agreed we were not going to that.”
“I know, but Collins, it’s Harry Frank! This is your opportunity to tell him about the new R & D work you’ve been talking about.”
She was right. But he wished he could have just scheduled a meeting with the man. Except that’s not how this world worked. People couldn’t just be straightforward and shake hands on a good idea. He had to play the game and donate another million dollars to a hospital wing. Not that he minded supporting charities, he just didn’t feel like schmoozing while he was at it.
“Fine. We’ll go,” he said.
“Great. Knew you’d be excited,” she said, ignoring his obvious reluctance. But she was earning her pay.
“Talk to you later,” he said, ending the call and pinching the bridge of his nose.
He’d known Margot a long time. They’d first met in their teens at prep school. She’d always been driven to be the best, which he could relate to. She was blonde and beautiful, and he’d always admired her drive. They’d reconnected during college, but it wasn’t until he’d taken over at Psionic Enterprises that she had reached out to him.
Margot was privileged and intelligent, but lately she’d focused her energy on becoming a top influencer on the digital platform CitySocial. She spent a painstaking amount of time posing her food just so when they shared a meal in public. She wasted more time making sure his hair was perfectly disarrayed for the images she posted to her account.
They’d struck a deal a few months ago when he’d wanted to be taken more seriously by the power players of the city. She knew how to transform him from billionaire playboy to responsible executive in a way that appeared real to onlookers. She needed him to be her rich boyfriend with photogenic features and eyes only for her, and Collins needed her to erase his long-running streak of uncommitted dating. With Margot’s help, the tabloids printed images of him, but they showed him in a positive light that his career needed. Her official job title was Image Consultant, and it was rare for him to see her outside of a scheduled excursion into the city.
She also socialized with some of the most powerful people around, and on their first date, they’d run into close friends of hers that had done more for Psionic’s strategic initiative than weeks of elbow grease.
The town car soon pulled back into the parking garage at Psionic. He climbed out of the back seat, striding around the corner from his spot to the breezeway that led to the building. Halfway to the other side, he saw a flash of familiar gray out of the corner of his eye.
It was an infantry soldier of the Draconian scourge.
Impossible.
The silver glint of the enemy’s blade slashed down toward him before he could process what he was seeing. On reflex he spun around, holding his briefcase up to block the attack. A shout poured out of him, but the impact of the dagger never came. Peeking around the edge of his raised case, he found the walkway empty.
He was alone.
He darted a glance behind him. There was no alien assassin. Slowly he lowered the case, clutching at his chest and trying to catch his breath. A rush of embarrassment washed over him. He felt ridiculous—and a little crazy. He caught sight of himself in the copper reflection of the breezeway’s windows and ran a hand through his hair.
Composing himself, he took one more second to shake off the rush of adrenaline that still coursed through him. He needed to get a grip. Crazed hallucinations were not good for business.
In the privacy of the elevator up to his office, he let himself think about the shadowed attack. He’d hallucinated about the game in the past, but never so viscerally. It wasn’t as if a trick of the light had looked like an enemy attacker—the Draconian had been there. Collins had been able to identify that he was part of the infantry, he’d heard the whish of the blade, and he’d been ready to counterattack—to win.
He was losing his mind. Logically, he knew that it was because of the extra stresses in his life and the countless hours he put into playing the game, but how could he stop? Playing was the only way he’d been able to fight his insomnia. If he quit, he wouldn’t be able to sleep.
The elevator doors dinged open, and he tried to let the fear fade into his subconscious. He couldn’t tell anyone about what he’d seen. No one would trust him to run the company, and he didn’t want to think about what it would mean for Serah if he became unstable.
Edith almost looked like she knew, though. As her desk came into view, he could tell by the crinkle between her eyes that she was worried. She’d said she had eyes everywhere, and she might have meant the building security cameras. Could she have seen him use his briefcase as a shield against an attacker that wasn’t there?
“Mr. Harvey sent one of his lackeys up here, son,” Edith said, looking wary.
Oh. The data transfer. Good. She didn’t know about the hallucination. He was okay.
“Did we get the files?” Collins asked.