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  Wednesday October 5th

  I didn't sleep that night.

  I tried. I really did. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and told myself to close my eyes and rest, because tomorrow I'd need to deal with the fallout of today, and I couldn't do that running on no sleep.

  But every time I started to drift off, I'd think about the wall. The code. The impossible thing I'd seen that proved, or suggested, or maybe just hallucinated, that reality was not what I'd always assumed it was. Or maybe it was a brain tumor.

  What did it mean? Was the world some kind of simulation? A computer program? Had I seen the matrix, or just the final snap of my own overtaxed brain? Maybe I did have a brain tumor and had copied those designs without realizing it. I'd read that people start doing all kinds of crazy things when they get brain tumors. Or maybe it was carbon monoxide poisoning. I read a story about that online once.

  I gave up on sleep around 4 AM and went back to the living room. The wall was still there, still grey, still completely normal. I sat on the couch and stared at it. I put on my shoes and got in my car. After starting it I dismissed my missed calls and texts, and googled, "Do I have a brain tumor", and "Do I have carbon monoxide poisoning". As expected the results did not cure my anxiety.

  I drove myself to the ER and proceeded inside. Sitting in the waiting room I began to doze off. My eyes relaxed and I stared at the white wall across from me. The sticky hand prints reflecting shinier than the old matte paint. The scuffs and dents on the wall making the otherwise clean room feel like I was going to catch something here rather than get better. I jolted awake at the sound of my name.

  I spent hours being drilled and poked and prodded and tested. Bloodwork, a heart monitor, a CT and MRI later and the doctor determined I had a 'Complex Migraine'. Two Benadryl, two aspirin, some anti-nausea meds and one bag of IV fluids later I was released feeling exhausted but much better than I had going in. I stopped at the local 24-7 supermarket for a new carbon monoxide detector just in case.

  I walked into my apartment, the E7 still blinking on my coffee pot reminding me once again that today was going to suck. Sighing I toed my shoes off and collapsed onto my very uncomfortable and expensive showroom couch. Well maybe it's for the best I was told to get sleep and avoid stress. Grabbing my old blanket from the back of the couch I rested my head and allowed myself to forget about the previous day and allow exhaustion to consume me.

  My phone vibrating in my pocket woke me up sometime late afternoon. I drowsily fished it out of the pocket and pried my eyes open. The caller ID read, "MOM". With a deep breath I hit the green answer button and said, "Hello."

  "What's wrong? Why were you sleeping? Shouldn't you be just getting off of work? It’s only 6pm.” She fired accusingly. "Don't tell me you're getting sick. Are you taking those vitamins I sent you?"

  "Hello mom. I had a migraine. But, I’m fine, thank you and how are you?"

  "Oh, don't change the subject Samantha. You really need to make sure you're getting enough water and taking a break from the computer. Eye strain is just terrible for your headaches. You know this. Have you been exercising enough? I heard that if you try peppermint essential oil it naturally cures migraines.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried not to groan. "What's going on mother?"

  "Don't take that tone with me. I was calling to remind you about Thanksgiving next month, Samantha. You know how everyone loves to see you at the holidays and hear all about your exciting job."

  I tried not to scream as I rolled my face into the couch cushions and covered my head with the blanket. Taking two deep breaths before replying. "How could I forget, mom? Thanksgiving comes every year."

  Thanksgiving was the one time a year my mom insisted on my presence. This way she could show off to her six sisters and brag about how she was the better parent and how I was the most successful out of my cousins. Or... that I had been. The past days events quickly slammed into my head and bringing me back into reality. The ringing began in my ears and the static began to overtake the raggedy cream blanket I'd covered myself with.

  I could almost see the pattern. My eyes focusing and unfocusing as my head began to pound once more.

  "Samantha! Are you listening to me?"

  My mom's shrill and irritated voice came squawking at me through the phone and jolted me out of my trance.

  "Yes mother. Yes, I'll be there."

  "And make sure to bring your boyfriend this year. When you didn’t bring him to the wedding last month people were talking. You know how catty your aunts get. Especially now that Brittany is married. I'd hate for them to think you're a..." And she whispered the last word as if it were a curse, "lesbian".

  "Jesus fuck mom. I'm not dating anyone right now. Male or female! And there's nothing wrong with being a lesbian. Christ."

  "Do not talk to me like that young lady. I'm just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself at Thanksgiving. Of course there's nothing wrong with it! I just don't want you to feel like they think you're a.... you know."

  "A lesbian?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "Exactly, Samantha."

  The silence dragged on for a moment too long and I felt the ringing starting in my ears again.

  "Okay mom, I'll see you at Thanksgiving."

  "Alright dear, can’t wait. Remember, don’t forget that boyfriend of yours. Love you bye."

  Before I could respond the line went dead in my ear and the urge to throw it across the room was almost unbearable. Instead, I did the mature thing and bit the phone while screaming.

  After a solid thirty seconds of cursing and using every swearword I could think of, and a few that I made up on the spot, I sat up and stretched. Rubbing at my aching eyes. The doctor from the ER had given me a prescription for Tylenol but I wasn't going to get it filled. It was Tylenol for fucks sake. I already had Tylenol in my cupboard. So I got up, grabbed the bottle out of my medicine cabinet and took a handful with a glass of lukewarm water from the tap.

  Afterwards I smacked my lips together making a disgusted face. I'd fallen asleep without brushing my teeth and between ‘morning breath’ and that unfiltered warm tap water my mouth tasted horrendous. I trudged back into the bathroom turning the water to scalding and let the shower heat up while I brushed my teeth.

  I stood in the water savoring the burn of it on my skin as I tried to push out the voice in my head. I hadn't told my doctor about hearing 'level up'. I still wasn't convinced that I'd heard it at all. And I groaned out loud. Thanksgiving was going to be a nightmare. If my mom found out I'd been fired she probably would request I not show up to 'embarrass myself.' Especially, I thought, without a boyfriend. She had been on my case for the last 5 years about when I was going to settle down and why I didn't want to buy a nice house and have children. And and and it was always something. That goal would always be just out of my reach.

  This time, the static came faster. I stared at it for a long time trying to focus and make sense of it. Long enough for the water to turn ice cold and for me to get out of the shower shivering.

  After getting dressed I pulled a frozen meal out of my freezer and popped it into the microwave. I stood in the kitchen allowing the glow of the microwave and the steady hum lull me back into my almost trance state where I could see the static.

  BEEP BEEP BEEP

  In a stupor I took the turkey?- Yeah, I guess you could call it that - out of the microwave and sat down sideways on the sofa to consume it. My legs were up on the couch the old blanket thrown over my legs. One hand supported my plate while the other shoveled food into my mouth. I barely tasted the rubbery food as I tried again to unfocus and break through the static and see the code on my blanket.

  I'd been practicing, I realized. Learning the trick of unfocusing, of letting go, of slipping into that weird mental state where the patterns became visible. It was like a muscle I hadn't known I had, and every time I used it, it got a little stronger.

  The pressure came. The ringing. The pain. But I pushed through, and the code appeared, clearer this time, more coherent. I could almost make sense of it now. Almost read it.

  What are you? I thought at it. What does this mean?

  The code didn't answer. It just scrolled on, indifferent to my questions, a language I was only beginning to perceive let alone interpret.

  But then something else happened. A line of code near the bottom of my vision, a small section, just a few characters, flickered. Like a cursor blinking. Waiting for input.

  I focused on it. Concentrated. Pushed.

  The moment I did, something went very very wrong.

  The pressure behind my eyes didn't just spike. It exploded. White-hot pain lanced through my skull, and the room lurched sideways. My stomach heaved. My feet tangled in the blanket and I barely made it to my feet before my body decided that whatever I was doing was absolutely not acceptable and needed to stop immediately.

  I stumbled toward the bathroom, discarding my half finished meal on the table as I went. One hand supported me on the wall as the world tilted and spun around me. The code was still there, flickering at the edges of my vision even though I wasn't trying to see it anymore. My skin felt wrong, too tight, like something underneath was trying to rearrange itself.

  I made it to the toilet just in time.

  I won't describe what happened next in detail. Suffice to say that my body rejected the last twenty-four hours with extreme prejudice. The questionable turkey and mixed vegetables I had just forced down were no longer down.

  Between heaves, I caught glimpses of myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked like death. Pale, sweating, eyes bloodshot and wild. My cheeks had taken on a sunken look and I looked like I had nothing left to give.

  "Okay," I gasped, gripping the toilet bowl like it was the only stable thing in the universe. "Okay. Message received. Too much. Got it."

  My body disagreed. It had more opinions to express.

  I don't know how long I stayed on that bathroom floor. Long enough for the tiles to leave imprints on my knees. Long enough for the dry heaves to finally stop. Long enough for the room to slowly, gradually, stop spinning.

  When I finally felt stable enough to move, I crawled to the sink and splashed water on my face. The person in the mirror looked like she'd been through a war. Or a really aggressive flu. Or whatever you call it when you accidentally try to touch reality and your body stages a full rebellion.

  I made it back to the couch on shaky legs, wrapped myself in my comforting brown blanket, and lay there trembling. The code was gone now, or at least I couldn't see it anymore. The pressure had faded to a dull ache. But I could feel that something had changed. Something small but real. And then it occurred to me. I opened my eyes and looked at the blanket wrapped around me.

  The raggedy blanket I'd had since middle school that I was confident had been a dingy cream color was now dark brown.

  I picked it up off of my shoulders with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. Turned it over. Examined the seams, the fabric, the faded tag that still said "Made in Vietnam". I found the stain that I'd never been able to quite get out from that night my roommate and I partied and spilled a whole tray of jello shots on our then fold-out couch. It was there. The snag in the corner from too much use and not enough TLC was right where I expected it to be.

  I did this. I changed the color of my blanket. Right before my brain decided to almost kill me, some part of me had still managed to push through and change something in the code. And that change had manifested in reality.

  "Holy shit," I whispered.

  LEVEL UP.

  The voice again. Same tone. Same clarity. Like a notification confirming that yes, I had in fact done something significant, and yes, the universe had taken note. Completely indifferent to the fact that the achievement had nearly killed me.

  "Hello?" I said out loud, feeling stupid. "Level up to what? Is there a tutorial? An FAQ? Anything?” Silence. Of course. Why would the mysterious universe-voice be helpful?

  I started laughing. It hurt my throat, raw from the retching. It turned into coughing, which turned into something that might have been crying, which turned back into laughing again. I clutched the brown blanket to my chest like a beloved stuffed animal, shaking with exhaustion and terror and something else. Something that felt almost like hope.

  I had just leveled up. Whatever that meant. It had cost me everything in my stomach and probably a few years off my life. But for the first time since Greg and Rebecca had called me into that beige conference room and nuked my career, I felt something other than despair.

  I felt a tinge excited.

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  Want to read ahead? My has the rest of book one and a bonus prequel chapter. Patience is overrated anyway.