War Games

It's cold. I think.

It is one of those times when you can't be sure if what you're touching is cold or just damp.

I can't see anything. It's dark to the point where I question whether I'm blind or just in a dark place. Despite knowing what's coming, I can't shake the fear. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears every single time.

There is no point in exploring anymore. So far, I figured out I'm in some metal room, probably a shipping container like the ones we see in movies from how the ridges on the walls feel.

The first time this happened, I banged on the walls for what seemed like an eternity. I didn't know where I was or how I got there. I just panicked. After I tired myself trying to find a way out, I calmed down and thought about the situation. I was definitely at home. I clearly remember coming home from soccer practice, extremely tired, and then taking a nap, even before showering. So, how did I end up here?

It had to be a dream, right? Otherwise, it wouldn't make any sense. The problem is that everything feels too real, so it was hard to confirm.

This kept happening almost daily for the last month.

***

"Open your books to page 98 and read that chapter. There will be a quiz on it next week."

Of all types of substitute teachers we can get, we get the try-hard. He could just take it easy and put on a movie or something, but no. He makes us study for a quiz he might not even be here for.

"Yo, Jake. I got this new game yesterday. Apparently, it's the most realistic war simulator. Wanna come over to my place after school and try it out?"

My friend Isaac is always obsessed with simulators. Because we're kids and can't do most things, he likes to try new things through these games.

"I still remember those dumb farm simulator games you made me try. It was a monumental waste of time."

"Okay, I admit that one was shit, but come on! This is a war simulator. It's gotta be fun!"

I could tell how excited he was by the puppy-eyed look he was giving me.

Sigh. "Alright, let's do it," I say, defeated.

The rest of the day goes by normally; physics, history, lunch, computing. Regular old boring school life. It actually made me excited to try out Isaac's stupid game.

***

"Looks like it's a strategy game, and the objective is to take over the base and destroy the controls before they launch the nukes. Fun, eh?" Isaac read the instructions screen enthusiastically. I could almost see foaming at the edges of his mouth.

"Calm down before you pop a vein!"

"AHH! You have no idea how much I've been waiting to try the game out!"

"Didn't you just get it yesterday?" I asked.

"Exactly! A whole 24 hours!"

Sigh.

Isaac spent the next few minutes setting up the game and took the time to read each line of text out loud. Even the credits.

The game itself wasn't bad. We were part of the "Black Falcons", a paramilitary group that had to secretly help the government from the shadows. What impressed me about this game is that it seemed unpredictable. Every decision we made had unexpected consequences. This made it really fun to play.

"Gotta admit, this was really fun. We were so close!"

"I told you!" Isaac was so pleased to have validation for his choice in games this time.

"I need to head home now. Let's beat it next time. I already have an idea on how to go around that guard station next time,"

"You take this game too lightly, my friend," Isaac said sarcastically, "I told you this is the most realistic war simulator. Would you get a second chance in war?"

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't an offline game. A mission appears once per week, and you only have one chance to do it."

"Oh, that's sick!"

"I know, right!"

"I'm sad I didn't finish this one, but I can't wait for next week's mission!"

"Alright, alright. Looks who's so excited now, ha? Go home now," Isaac started pushing me out of the door, "I need to do more research on this and prepare for next week."

"Okay, man. Sheesh!" I left Isaac's house after playing that game for almost 3 hours.

My parents are pretty lax about me. They trust that I don't do anything inappropriate, so they don't worry if I'm a little late after school. They know I'm probably with Isaac. "I'm home!" I announce after reaching home.

"Jake? Is that you?"

"Yes, mom. Sorry I'm late. I was at Isaac's" I take off my shoes and throw my backpack down.

"That's okay. Did you eat?"

"Yeah, I had lunch there."

"Well, there is leftover lasagne in the fridge if you want it later."

"Thanks, mom"

I jump up the stairs. I desperately needed a nap, but midway up the stairs, Mom shouted "Remember to bring your soccer uniform down for washing. It needs to be ready for tomorrow,"

"I'm sure I already put it down there?" I lean on the railing in anticipation.

I can hear things moving around in the laundry room. "Found it"

"Alright. I'm going to sleep now." I can finally relax.

"Don't sleep too long. Your father is coming later for movie night,"

"Okay, mom"

***

I can feel a familiar coldness on the back of my arm. I'm back.

My heart still races each time, but I don't panic like the first couple of times anymore.

If I'm coming here each time I sleep, at least let it be interesting. Why the hell is it always dark?

I stand up and walk forward slowly. If nothing else, this dream gave me a new appreciation and respect for blind people. I couldn't imagine living like this all the time in real life.

After moving around and feeling for a latch or door handle for a few minutes, I heard a few people talking. "Well, that's new,"

I press my ears to the walls, hoping to hear anything useful.

"Explosion...dead...lower floor...fifteen..."

"...cation?"

"..cifc ocean...rig."

"...eam?"

"...1251..."

Seemed like two people talking, but I couldn't hear much of their conversation. Just bits and pieces. "This is officially the weirdest and most useless dream I've ever had."

I thought maybe the darkness of the room meant something. I searched online and apparently, dreams of dark rooms could mean that I feel vulnerable or trapped in my life or something like that. I tried to think of what it could be. I don't feel trapped anywhere, and I generally like my life.

School has been boring lately. Could that be it?

***

The following week went by quickly. School was boring as usual, but the soccer tournament was exciting. We didn't win, but we got damn close.

"The new mission is finally here! This one is a retrieval mission." Isaac sat in front of the computer screen with a thick stack of war strategy books. When he likes a game, he latches on like a hyena.

"Sheesh! making me feel a little unprepared there, Isaac," I said jokingly.

"Laugh all you want. We have one shot at this, and I want to win."

"Sorry, man," I say in surrender, "just wanted to see if you wanted me to do anything, that's all."

"Sit down. I'll brief you on the mission," Isaac was acting like a real commander now. "We need to rescue fifteen guys from the enemy. They were caught while on a mission, and we need to rescue them."

"How many soldiers do we have for this mission?" I asked.

"We have five on the ground and a supporting AC130."

"Why can't we just have the AC130 shoot a few spots to distract them and then go in on foot?"

"It's not that easy. The hostages are somewhere on the lower floors of an oil rig in the middle of the ocean. Not only do we need to factor in the weather and visibility for air support, but we also need to be careful because if we fire around recklessly, we might collapse the rig on top of them. Game over."

"Hmm. Yeah, that does complicate thin- wait, where did you say this oil rig was?"

"The middle of the Pacific Ocean. You know how crazy the waves and weather get there, so we need to be careful with our approach." Isaac was busy sifting through the preparation materials and didn't notice the shock on Jake's face.

It has to be a coincidence.

***

"What's wrong with BF1251?"

"Looks like there was some sort of interference with the Lucid algorithm, Sir." A man in a white lab coat zoomed in to a particular graph among the hundreds on screen and began studying it. "It's a blip in the algorithm, I don't think we need to worry."

"Hmm," the man who posed the question, clearly of some military background, was in deep thought for a few seconds and then asked, "How long until adulthood for this one?"

After looking at the profile associated with the graph they were looking at, the man in the white coat answered, "Time dilation is set at 0.004. Within safety limits. This one should reach adulthood in 1.5 months, Sir."

"That's too long. Raise the multiplier to 0.95," Commanded the military man.

"But General, that's too much in one go. We can't be sure what would happen, and he's been doing well so far. Just give him some time."

"Time? If we had time to spare, do you think we would be doing this? We're at war, doctor. We have nothing to spare."

"This... Okay," The doctor finally complied and started typing commands on the control panel, "I've adjusted the time dilation of the Lucid algorithm, so he should reach adulthood within three hours after I reset the dream settings," the doctor hovered his finger on the enter button, "Are you sure about this, Sir?"

The General looked out of the window and sighed deeply. "We can face judgment when the time comes. For now, we have a war to win," he turned to face the doctor, "Reset."

"Okay." The doctor reluctantly pressed the button and then looked out of the bridge.

On the deck of an old, retired ship were many containers. Hundreds, it seemed. A faint flash of light seeped through the seams of an assuming one in the middle of the pack.

"BF1251 (Jake Sanders): Reset Complete"