The shrill beeping of the bedside alarm clock roused Marcus from his sleep. With a groan, he fought for his eyelids to stay open and looked at the display. It was just before noon and he only managed a few hours of sleep. Getting up, Marcus made his way towards the bathroom, only for him to stub his toe on the bed.

"Fuck me.” Marcus cursed, hopping on one foot. The pain helped in waking him up and he made his way to the bathroom for a cold shower. He needed to prepare for the meeting scheduled this afternoon after he received a call coming from SilverCorp, the owner of Forgelectrics, which holds the major shares of the VR pod market. The caller then informed him of an offer regarding the problem with his reaction to VR. Eager to settle the issue once and for all, Marcus agreed to schedule a meeting the same afternoon.

A decision which he found to be a mistake. Stifling a yawn, he should have scheduled it for the next day.

Freshened up, Marcus ate a light meal and dressed himself. He wore a collared shirt, a fresh pair of chino pants and loafers. Done, he stepped out of his apartment and headed to the business district via the connecting transit network connecting all habs under Pavonis mons.

Finding the Silvercorp’s main branch was easy. Stepping out of the transit line and into the station, all Marcus needed was to look out the viewing window to find the largest building built on the dusty surface of Mars.

The dome shaped building glimmered under the Martian sunlight, the crisscrossing steel construction holding the building’s glass shell resembled much of the woven sticks and fibers of a nest of which it was named for. Both an engineering marvel and a statement on itself, Marcus couldn’t help but wonder at the engineering knowhow and expense put into erecting the structure on the surface when the norm was to bury everything underground.

It had its own transit line connecting the building to the rest of the Hab through a surface rail. The transit is only open to invited guests and employees. Marcus followed the painted lines on the wall and arrived at the transit station, where a terminal scanned his identification. A transit car waited on the rails and Marcus took a seat along with other passengers wearing business attires.

The train was barely filled. Only a few people waited for the scheduled departure. Marcus had nothing to do but people watch as everyone else busied themselves with their datapads, either reading or watching something on the screen. Content, Marcus leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a quick nap.

“Ah. Sir?” a voice woke him up. Marcus opened his eyes to find a young woman standing over him. She wore a blue checkered business dress and looked at him with electric blue eyes and short blond hair tucked behind one ear. “Were holding up the train, we should leave the car.” She said.

“Oh. Sorry.” Marcus said as he got off the seat and walked out of the transit car where a small crowd all turned their head at the same time. Some sent him looks filled with annoyance, while other looked on with curiosity. He wondered why the train didn’t just run back on its route. ‘Nah, it couldn’t be me.’ He thought as he looked to the side and noticed the same girl following closely. “How long was I sleeping there?” he asked.

“Twenty minutes, sir.” She said, looking down. She didn’t look to be there for her own reasons and the way she followed close made it seem like she was escorting him.

“Aaaand?” Marcus drawled, baiting a response.

“I’m Ida Karlsen, your guide. Sorry for being late.” She said.

“Ah, so that’s what it is.” Marcus replied, “It’s alright. You got me more time to sleep.”

Ida hid her face. She then looked up and stepped ahead of him. “This way, sir.” She said, quickening his steps to lead him and they cut through a security line where people were queuing up.

Marcus saw a couple of Guards standing with rifles held on their arms openly. Looking at them, he could only shake his head. The weapon held by the guard resembled much of 21st century weapons the size of a collapsed PDW, and the transparent magazine reminiscent of the P90 showed a long stack of bullets.

Stagnation was always the result of any ban on information. ‘Just look at the dark ages,’ Marcus thought to himself, ‘back then when anything related to science was considered witchcraft and blasphemy, enforced by murderous and torturous inquisition, came a couple hundred years of decline.’

He was led through the main office filled with a grid of cubicles manned by corporate drones, then into a glass walled meeting room dominated with a large oak table. Knocking on it, Marcus could bet that the object had likely come from Earth and was meant to impress on the people the company’s wealth and influence. Marcus could only guess how much it would take to transport a now rare wood through interstellar distances just to be here.

“My superiors will be here shortly. Can I get you a drink?” Ida asked as Marcus settled on a seat.

“Coffee would be good.” Marcus replied. ‘Poor girl,’ he thought as she watched her leave at once, ‘probably losing her mind thinking that she’s in deep trouble.’

Leaning back, Marcus looked around the room to find it not that much different from the board rooms he found himself during the monthly meetings where old men drone about everything just to make themselves feel important. As for now, Marcus wondered the exact reason they called him in. The caller was vague about the offer. But with the way they were treating him, Marcus wondered if it was more about the offer itself or his favor called with the scion.

A while later, a man walked into the hall and glanced his way. Marcus met his gaze, and he nodded. The man smiled and entered, carrying with him a folder, which he laid on the table. He then offered his hand.

“Hello Mr. Corvo. I am Lex. We talked this morning.” He said, taking a seat next to him.

“So that was you.” Marcus replied. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ida walk in with this cup of coffee. He nodded, and she entered, laying the fresh brew on the table. The steam trailing from the mug spread the aroma of freshly ground coffee. Marcus missed that smell. It was unlike his own bag of inferior quality beans. Marcus turned to Lex. “Sorry for being late. You kinda caught me when I had just got off from a busy night, so I overslept.” He said, stretching the truth as to cover up the younger woman.

“Oh, none of it is your fault, sir.” Lex replied, waving everything away and ordering his own drink from Ida. Given that she didn’t introduce herself as an employee of the company, it is likely that she’s working as an intern. “If there is someone to blame, it would be on our side.”

Marcus nodded. With the pleasantries done, it was time to get to the meat of things. “So, what’s the offer?” he asked.

Lex cleared his throat, opening the folder, and handed the contract. “We were unsure as to your preferences, so we printed the contract on paper along with an encrypted digital copy. Both are legally binding as so you can choose the one you prefer.”

“That’s considerate of you.” Marcus replied.

Marcus took the time to read the contract. It was good, too good, enough that it was tripping alarm bells in his head. He didn’t want to get screwed over with the fine print and so he pored through every word and clarified even the smallest of details. Lex was patient on walking him through what was essentially a consent to record his data.

Since they couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for Marcus’ reaction to the VR pod, they reasoned they should proactively address the issue long before another similar case would pop up. Signing the contract would allow the company to record his data and shield them from the numerous Personal information protection acts. Signing the contract would turn him into a consenting participant. In exchange, he would be paid a stipend monthly for the duration. The number stated was fine with him, but he knew that it could be adjusted.

So he negotiated. Knowing that the company could spare some credits and wouldn't mind that much, Marcus pushed for more. Being called into the office meant that they needed him enough to warrant the treatment and Marcus held on to that. Still, he didn't push too hard since they were there to trace what was wrong with him in the first place. As for the compensation, it amounted to 3,000 MRC, which is triple his calculated minimum monthly cost of living. It was the equivalent rate of a minimum wage worker in Pavonis which should easily take care of him. A signing bonus of another 2,000 MRC sweetened the pot. Just by signing in, Marcus would have a five-month float. It was a no brainer, especially as the protection on his personal information would kick back in once he gets taken out of the program.

Also, if Marcus were to accept the contract, the previous waiver he signed would be effectively void, and he would have to log in 48 hours per week of game time. It was fine with him, but the clause that caused him some curiosity is that there would be an observer attached to his sessions.

“The contract’s good. Real good, but I want to know more about this ‘observer’ written here.”

“Its just as it says, sir. There will be an observer to be attached to you and go along with your adventures in the game. It will be up to them to ask questions, but you can, of course, ask them to be silent instead.”

“So just a hanger on.” Marcus muttered. At least he should be able to defend himself and if he dies, Marcus could just leave him, as there was no stipulation in the contract that the observer had to survive. “Alright.” Marcus said, taking the pen and signed the contract in triplicate.

With the contract signed, Marcus shook hands with Lex and was led back outside by Ida.

“Thank you,” she said. “For covering for me.”

“No problem.” Marcus replied, “Now guide me out? I need to get some sleep.”

“I guess this is karma. After a long time spent on being fucked over, I’m bound to get a come up sometime.” Marcus muttered to himself as he checked the update on his bank account. The signing bonus, 2,000 MRC might be around his monthly cost of living, but still a drop in the bucket to his million MRC debt.

He sighed. The sword of Damocles still hung over his head. Playing the game was the only chance he got without filing for bankruptcy, giving him more reason to go back to go back home and put more hours in the game.

Getting to his apartment, he met the technicians sent by SilverCorp. The group presented their identifications, and Marcus let them into his apartment for them to install the modifications in his pod as per the contract. The modules allowed precise measurements of his biological and neurological reactions to be transmitted to the corporation for study.

The installation was straightforward. Marcus watched on the side while the technicians went about their work of modifying his pod and running diagnostics. After a quarter of an hour, they left.

Marcus double checked the locks and settled back into his bed. Somehow, he still couldn’t find himself to go to sleep and so he reached over the two hundred-year-old phone sitting on the nightstand and booted it up. The same old logo greeted him. It had been charged to full a couple of days ago but was left alone as he never had the strength to look at the last thing left connecting him to his long-lost past.

The phone’s home screen greeted him with a lone video file in the center. Marcus sighed as he hovered his thumb above the icon. His heart raced as the preview showed Brandon, his brother, looking at the camera in the middle of saying something.

Closing his eyes, he pressed it.

“Hey Marcus! Welcome to the future! I hope you didn’t wake up in the middle of some alien war with the future humans looking at you for help because I know they’ll just be disappointed-”

“Fucking asshole.” Marcus muttered.

“-Anyway. If you’re watching this, I hope you’re already drowning in gash and are living a banging life. If you’re not,” He shrugged, “I know you’re already on the way towards success. You have that drive, that focus. If you’re feeling down knowing that we’ve gone on ahead of you, then know that you waking up in the future cured is already a gift for us. We miss you as much as you miss us. So we thought we’d leave a message for you. Hopefully, it would help you adjust to your new situation. This phone and the flash drives contain videos that you might have missed, along with some files.” He said with a bright smile while wagging his eyebrows. “You know what kind. We thought to save them for you since right now, governments around the world are cracking down on the internet, so we just thought ahead and saved them for safekeeping.”

“Also, if it happens that the future gets all 1984 on you, you can just get rid of them. I’ll separate them by category. You’re smart enough. You’ll figure it out. Anyway. Goodbye for now. Also, in case you’re curious when I recorded this, today is August 4, 2028. We got older, but we’re still around.” He nodded, holding a bottle to the camera. “Happy birthday, brother.”

Marcus turned the screen off and tossed it off to the side. Still laying on the bed, he looked blankly at the ceiling. His eyes focused on the little cracks on the paint while head swirled with masses of thoughts and emotions. Brandon was right, he missed them. He wouldn’t be able to get on with the family, with the summer barbecues and thanksgiving dinners.

Still, he was alive. And that should be enough to be thankful about.

Sighing, he needed to clear his head. Marcus looked down towards the pod, its doors open, almost inviting him to get into its embrace. Closing his eyes, he didn’t feel like getting more sleep, not after all of that.