Monday morning asserted itself with the smell of coffee and the muted sounds of televised newscasters. I couldn’t make out the words, but I assumed that like most of the news I caught snippets of passing shops with television displays, it was depressing. For a brief moment I was my 11 year old self again, waking up in a strange bedroom in a strange house, with strange people moving around outside this space. That didn’t last long though. I recognized the few decorations I had chosen to keep and place around the room, the box of clothing by the closet, and recognized Jen’s voice complaining at the television briefly as if it could hear her. All of that was enough to bring me back and make me remember where I was. I wasn’t that scared 11 year old boy anymore. I mean, was I even a boy anymore? Arguably. I scratched a nagging itch at the back of my head, feeling the unevenly shorn hair as yet another reminder of my current situation.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed realizing that my toes just barely touched the floor from my new position. Right. Tall bed, and I’m shorter now. I kinda hoped that was just a dream. I slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom to relieve my body’s cries of discomfort. If I didn’t think about it too much, it wasn’t even that different than going had been before. I mean, I didn’t even have to worry about aiming now. Just sit, go, wipe, wash my hands, get on with other things. Simple. I returned to my room and rummaged through the outfits that Jen had picked out for me the night before. A set of black ‘capri leggings’ and a long sleeveless pale blue shirt (top?) went on over fresh underwear.

“Morning, Kat.” Jen was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on breakfast. She must have heard me going about my own burgeoning morning routine. She set a plate of pancakes down in front of me, a pad of butter on each, and two strips of bacon below them on the plate. It looked like a bizarre breakfast smiley face. I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw it. 

“Café doesn’t open until noon,” she said, which I already knew of course. You don’t scrounge a place without learning their business hours. “So I’ll be around here until like 9. Anything you want to do before I have to go?”

I started in on my breakfast, my stomach having complained at the fact that there was warm delicious smelling food right here and I wasn’t eating it yet. “Um,” I started after swallowing a mouthful of what might be the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten, “I need to…” I trailed off. What did I need to do? I had food. I had clothes. I had a place to sleep tonight. I had no pressing survival needs unmet, at the moment. This was weird.

“You ok, hon?” Jen asked softly, placing a hand on mine. It felt nice.

“What… do people do when they don’t have anything to do?” I asked, too embarrassed to raise my eyes from the now globby melted eyes of my pancakes, staring accusingly up at me, as if to scream ‘Oh my god, you ate part of my eye, what is wrong with you?!’

“Well, all kinds of things. I mean, pretty much every form of entertainment media there is fits the bill. I’m partial to movies, books, and games, myself.” She gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “But you could go outside, go for a run, play a sport, play an instrument, take up some kind of art, whatever!”

“I’ve never really done any of that - not since I was little, at least,” I sighed. I guess, thinking back, I could remember playing with toys, art supplies, stuff like that at my real home. After that, it was always more minimalistic at the group home or the foster home. They had books, but they were mostly religious, and I didn’t really care about their made up stories. If someone as good and kind as the person those stories were about existed, why could life be so crappy for so many people? Jen’s bookshelves seemed, at a glance, to be free of such stories. I was glad for that.

“Why not try a bunch of stuff then? Anything sound interesting in particular?” She asked.

I thought back over the list of things again, then nodded. “Games. I’ve never actually played a video game before.” I’d heard Pete talk about them of course, and I’d seen them in shops, seen ads for them, promotional events, but never played one.

“Sure. I’ll set up my console for you before I go, then.” She ruffled my hair with a soft laugh as she passed by, and headed for the living room entertainment system. Only when she opened one of the glass front cabinets did I really notice all the games inside the cabinet. Wow. There had to be a hundred little plastic cases, and I couldn’t help but draw a bit closer, curiosity thoroughly piqued.

“I think you’ll like this one, it’s called ‘Quest for Dawn 3: Darkest Before the Light’. It’s a JRPG where you can create your own character with a really cool in depth menu, and then explore a kingdom of swords and magic.” Jen rambled on with an excitement for the game that I could tell she was happy to be sharing. It was… nice, actually, to be able to see how happy it made her. I smiled, and she returned the expression.

“Thank you, I’m sure it’ll be fun,” I said, looking at the game box. The art on it was very pretty, I had to admit. A boy and a girl who looked very similar were facing towards each other, with a fancy arched doorway framed in the background by the silhouette between them.

“Shit,” Jen swore, checking her watch. “I wanted to talk to you about something but I got too caught up in my excitement getting this ready for you.” She frowned, and chewed on her bottom lip slightly. “Wait, I have an idea. Alright. How about you stop by the café today for dinner, since I won’t be done until 7. Does that sound good?”

I nodded. At least that would be something approaching normal. “Wait, but I can’t go out dressed like this.” There was just no way I could handle stepping out into the streets in an outfit like the one I’d put on this morning, or any of the other ones the Bureau had sent.

“First off, you look very pretty in that outfit, Kat,” She smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “But, in case you didn’t feel comfortable going out and we needed to, I did manage to snag some of your stuff from the Hospital patient belongings before Dobbs got to it. It’s hanging in the laundry room.”

Did she manage to save my old clothes? Could I go back to dressing like normal?! I nearly shot up and bolted down the hall towards the small area off the bathroom that served as a ‘laundry room’. Really it was just a glorified walk in closet with a washer/dryer and a place to hang clothing.

She must have been able to read my excitement because she laughed, and tousled my hair again. “You’re too cute when you get all excited, Kat.” She stood up and grabbed one of the console controllers from its charging spot, placing it in my hands. “I gotta get going, try not to have too much fun! And no crazy parties! Don’t go having any boys over!” She teased, winking before grabbing her messenger bag and heading out.

I felt the warmth pooling in my face. As if I was going to have a party. Who would I even invite? Pete? Wait, crap, that would break the third rule. Wait a minute. What had she even meant by that third rule?! I am a boy, after all! Well… I mean, maybe not right this moment, but I will be after this is all over.

I took the controller and fumbled my way through the character creation process. There were so many options for races and classes, and then once you made it past that you had to pick your character’s sex and appearance and all kinds of things. There had to be a hundred different settings to choose from, with sliding bars to tweak every little detail. An hour passed as I painstakingly recreated myself in the game - well, my normal self. The art style of the game still made him look a lot better looking than I had ever been. I slowly punched in the character’s name as ‘Kit’ and chose the ‘Nomadic Wanderer’ starting story.

==========

Kit’s story began in a small village in a rural farming community. He awoke to the sounds of farm animals, and the light of dawn was still a distant notion on the horizon. A few simple tasks around the farm acquainted him with moving his body, and interacting with others. He carried supplies to his father, and dispatched a few giant rats in the main barn. After gathering some wood and mending some fences, he was sent to the local market to purchase supplies for the family farm.

It’s a beautiful game. I mean, I’ve never seen like, actual farms, so I assume this is pretty authentic. Honestly I’d love to visit a place like this sometime. So much green, and none of the buildings looming over you, pushing you down into the pavement. I mean, there’s not even any pavement here. The streets are all dirt. The houses are really simple too, and I enjoy the whole vibe this place gives off. Still, there’s something off about it all, and I can’t quite place it. Oh well. Maybe it’s just because I’m new at playing video games. I tilt the stick forward like the tutorial showed me, and start my character jogging his way through town towards the market.

Other townsfolk are waking up now and citizens who are starting their day wave to him in a tired greeting. He doesn’t wave back, but he does smile or nod in their direction as he passes. He’s happily purchasing the fresh baked bread from the bakery that his mother sent him for when a cry of alarm rises over the village. A column of black smoke rises from the hills outside of town, and he gasps. He knows that direction. The road home. He drops the bread back on the shop counter and takes off without bothering to pick up his coin purse either, in too great a hurry to return home.

Well that’s kind of dumb of him. Now he doesn’t have the bread or any money. What happens if he gets home and it’s nothing and now everyone is upset at him and he loses all his money? I don’t get how this kid is supposed to be a hero. He seems kind of foolish.

He sprints back down the road instead of casually jogging this time, the smell of burning growing closer. He realizes what it is as soon as he crests the hill overlooking his family’s farm. It’s burning. The entire farm. Screams are echoing from the flaming buildings, while men in mismatched leathers watch, laughing amongst themselves. Kit ducks behind one of the low rock walls bordering the farm and creeps closer, doing his best to quiet his movements. The men stay only as long as it takes to ensure that everything burns to the ground, and then they depart, leaving only the wind and the groaning of a burnt farmstead in their wake. 

Kit approaches, finding that everything is gone. All of his family’s possessions. The animals. His… He finds them in the smoldering ruins of his house, bound together in their final moments. He wants to scream, to cry out, but the bandits might hear him and return, and then what would they do? Who would avenge them?

I pause the game. The image of the smoldering family is frozen in the background of the translucent menu screen. My eyes are burning, my face is wet. Crap, I’m crying again. Why? This isn’t real. I know it’s not real. But I know how it feels to lose everything. I drop the controller into my lap and my face into my hands, and I cry. Several long minutes pass before I am able to contain myself, to reel in those feelings. I wipe at my face with a tissue, and then another. I blow my nose, and after I’m finally not a mess anymore, I feel like I can keep going with this game. But I don’t want to. I know where this boy’s story is going. I’ve lived it. I don’t want to live it again.

Oh. That’s a thought that strays dangerously close to being uncomfortable to think about. I pull away from it. I press the menu option to return to the title screen. It warns me that I haven’t saved my progress. I don’t care. I don’t want to save his progress. I want him to go back in time to when he had a family that was alive and loved him. If I never played his story, would he have lost them in the first place? Another dangerous thought. I pull away from that one too, and press new game again.

This time I’m not making Kit. I don’t want to make Kit. I want him to enjoy his happy life with his family. I’ll make someone else. Someone who hasn’t had their story yet. One of the races has cat ears and tails. Cute. I pick them, and while I’m trying to think of what I’ll name the character, I think back to the charming kitty in the window at Jenny’s. Gigs. What would Gigs be like as an adventurer? I go through customizing the character’s appearance - Gigs is a girl, so I set the character to female. The more I play with the sliders, the less of a Gigs she feels like. She’s someone else. I tweak this and that, adjusting each detail. By the time I’m done, she’s very pretty. Maybe she isn’t built like a magazine or billboard ad girl, but that’s fine with me. I pick the ‘Aspiring Knight’ story for her, and move on. 

She smiles back at me from the character creation screen as I stare at the name input field. What do I name her? I stare at her. What do I name you? A stupid thought bubbles to the surface, and I laugh at the absurdity of it. I move the cursor around and pick the letters, staring at it.