[THE HAVEN]

Jay ripped off his Zero Space helmet. He didn’t feel like getting burned alive today. Pain in Zero Space wasn’t as bad as it was in real life, but it was still undesirable.

This was Shae’s real form – Jay. Not a suave, gun-toting try-hard. Just a thin, balding man in his early twenties, hunched over his computer screen. He couldn’t run on walls. Or doing cool backflips. He could barely get out of his chair. Shae was everything Jay wanted to be. A loser maybe, but a loser with style.

His computer screen lit up with notifications - dozens of tiny message boxes, each popping in with a musical chime. The other guild members had witnessed his humiliating defeat at the claws of Riz’aeoth. There was no doubt they were messaging him to rub it in.

He left their messages unread, staring up into a ceiling fan. Zero Space may have been an escape from reality, but sometimes, fantasy could really suck too. His buzzing fan spread the stench of potato chips and coffee across rumpled bedsheets and dirty laundry. The green glow of his computer highlighted piles of junk that he had promised to organize months ago. Exhausted from the day’s events, he leaned back in his chair, passing out for several hours.

Jay awoke to a blue boxing glove, landing flat against his face. It wasn’t a strike, but a suffocating grip. He squirmed in its grasp, toppling sideways out of his chair.

“It’s time Jay,” said a man named Anton. “Get your ass out here.”

Jay wasn’t a fan of being disturbed, even if he wasn’t doing anything. He swung his fist up into Anton’s gut, damaging his own hand.

“We gotta work on that punch,” Anton said. “You can’t tuck your thumb into your knuckles. You’re gonna break your hand that way.”

Jay interrupted Anton with a dive into his legs, sending both men tumbling through a doorway.

Their living room became a battlefield - a city of pizza boxes, comic books and soda cans was reduced to rubble in the chaos. Jay mounted Anton’s ribcage, unleashing a flurry of weak punches towards his face.

“You’ve got no power in those punches,” Anton laughed. “Are you even trying?”

Anton was a larger man than Jay. Not much older, but certainly bigger. His baggy clothing hid a fit body, capable of lifting at least two or three Jays.

Jay’s back collided with the ground, escorted there by Anton’s flexible legs. Both of Jay’s forearms rose to meet an inevitable volley of pain, but Anton showed mercy, grabbing a nearby shoe, and delivering several playful smacks to the top of Jay’s head.

“Bad Jay, bad,” Anton taunted. “Don’t try pinning down bigger opponents. Especially when they’re way bigger, like me!”

Anton leapt to his feet.

“Again!”

Jay launched into a second assault, this time, a well-rehearsed routine of punches and kicks. Anton’s limbs intercepted them mid-flight, deflecting each one with ease. Shae maybe could have taken on Anton. But this wasn’t Zero Space – this was real life. Here, Jay didn’t stand a chance.

Anton finished the fight with a single blow. A loud wheeze escaped Jay’s lungs as he collapsed to his knees. His fingers involuntarily curled around a carpet stain. Silver drool trickled from his lips.

“Um, Jay, you okay?” Anton asked.

It wasn’t just Anton’s final hit that did him in - Jay had a condition. The doctors didn’t know what it was, but they prescribed him medication anyway. He wasn’t positive it did anything – it just felt safer to take it.

“Jay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jay gasped. “Kind of.”

Anton smirked, rubbing Jay’s greasy black hair. They were brothers, though not by blood, or by choice. The Haven they lived in had paired them together when they were young, despite them being polar opposites. Maybe that was part of it? The logic of Haven leadership wasn’t always clear.

Growing up, Jay had found a home in the virtual world of Zero Space, while Anton was immersed in his own world. Anton resembled a real-life Zero Space character more than anyone Jay had ever known. He was fit, smart, and tough – Jay would never admit how much he respected him. In fact, Shae bore a striking resemblance to Anton. It took Jay years to have this revelation. Hopefully, Anton would never log on and make that awkward connection for himself.

“Your cough’s getting worse,” said Anton. “You taking your medicine?”

“It doesn’t help,” said Jay, collapsing on the couch.

“Sitting down won’t help either,” said Anton. “If you wanna fight this thing, you gotta fight me. Come on!”

Anton’s blue boxing gloves issued another challenge.

“I’m done,” said Jay. He reached for a medicine bottle, popping it open to reveal --

-- Five pills left. Less than three days’ worth.

“Anton, can you do me a favor?” asked Jay.

Anton smirked, plopping to Jay’s side. He knew what type of favor this would be.

“I’m really tired,” Jay continued. “And I just had a really bad raid.”

“Exercise is the best medicine for that,” Anton insisted. “And medicine is the best excuse for exercise!”

“Please don’t make me do this,” Jay begged. “I’ll owe you one.”

“You already owe me too many,” said Anton. “I work all week, while you just sit there playing games. I’m not gonna spend my day off in an elevator line. You’ve got legs Jay. Use ‘em.”

There was no arguing with Anton. When he didn’t get his way, he began with mockery, and ended with physical torment. Jay rose with exaggerated exasperation, snatching several credits from a countertop.

“Oh, and Jay,” said Anton. “No fights.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” said Jay.

“I mean it,” warned Anton. “You wouldn’t last five seconds against a real opponent.”

“If I get in a fight and lose, I’ll blame your lousy training.”

“My training isn’t for winning fights. It’s for surviving them.”

Jay had heard it all before. He gave Anton a reassuring nod before slamming the door shut behind him.

Anton sighed. He knew how hard Jay was trying. But neither Jay’s fighting, nor his health were improving. All Anton could do was watch Jay’s slow, painful decline. He just wanted Jay to live his best life, or whatever was left of it. And that meant a little tough love sometimes.

Still, it was good to have some alone time. Anton leaned back against the sofa, grabbed a dirty magazine, then unzipped the fly of his pants.

***

Jay locked the door to his unit, several times, just to be safe. Outside of Zero Space, contact with others was undesirable. Few people roamed the Haven halls, but Jay kept his head down just in case. His hands tunneled into his pockets, pushing his credits down as far as they would go.

Jay lived with Anton on floor twelve of the Haven. It wasn’t the best floor, but it was far from the worst. Eleven floors from the worst, to be exact. The Haven grew sketchier as it went further down. If floor twelve was this bad, Jay couldn’t imagine floor one.

A labyrinth of hallways and doors stood between Jay’s unit and the elevator. It was a confusing path that took Jay several months to memorize. He’d only changed units once or twice in his life, and each time, the Haven had placed him down several floors further than he was before. His trajectory wasn’t promising.

“One… Two… Three…”

Jay counted unit doors as he walked past them – each was a small victory. When his health first became an issue, he could pass hundreds of doors before growing tired. Now, his record was a few dozen. How many would he get past today?

“Nine… Ten…”

Lights flickered above him, almost obscuring a limp body at his feet. Was it a corpse? Or just an unconscious deserter? A few pills in the man’s palm indicated the latter. Zero Space was the perfect escape for most people. But for others, it wasn’t enough – they required a little something extra. These people were no longer contributing to the Haven. Hence the name, deserters.

“Eighteen… Nineteen…”

A group of men brushed past Jay’s frail figure, tattoos covering their exposed skin. These markings were of monsters, magic, and weapons. Images of Zero Space, branded into their bodies. People in the Haven took Zero Space seriously. They had to – playing it was mandatory. Jay didn’t know how people like Anton could avoid playing and not get caught. Perhaps the Haven had more important things to enforce.

“Twenty-six… Twenty-seven…”

Twenty-seven. That was the number today. Five units less than last time.

Each new breath became a struggle. Jay’s legs wobbled beneath him. His hands grasped a wall for support. Eight minutes passed before Jay recovered - one minute more than last time. Wiping away drool with his sleeve, Jay pressed on.

Seventeen unit doors later, Jay finally stumbled upon the elevator line. It extended deep into the halls. He predicted he’d be waiting a while, and this line didn’t disappoint. Everyone on floor twelve had somewhere to be, and it always seemed to be at the exact same time. The wait wasn’t so bad for those on higher floors. But on Jay’s floor, elevator traffic could extend a trip by hours.

Stairs did exist, but only for emergencies and authorized personnel. Even if stairs were an option, Jay would have preferred to wait. The walk here had left him winded and weary. He was already dreading the walk back.

Approximately thirty seven minutes later, the elevator was finally in sight. An enforcer in a bright yellow uniform stood before the elevator doors, carrying an impossible rifle. The thing must have been over three feet long, but the enforcer carried it without effort. This weapon wasn’t for people. It was for the static.

The static, as it was called, was some malevolent force lurking beyond the Haven walls. Like most people, Jay had no idea what the static actually was. A storm? A virus? Enforcer weapons seemed to suggest it was something far worse. Only enforcers knew the real truth, as it was a truth they had to deal with every day. Enforcers were the guardians of the Haven, and even the lowliest Haven scum knew not to get in their way.

Rain tapped against a window nearby. An endless torrent of dusty sleet, obscuring the view to the outside. Not that there was much to see out there. The Haven was one of the last safe places left in this abysmal wasteland of a world. Haven walls and windows were made out of unbreakable material. Nothing but enforcers got in or out. Though every once in a while, you’d hear about an incident on the lower floors --

“Hey, you want on the elevator or not?” the enforcer asked.

It was finally Jay’s turn. He gave the enforcer a sheepish nod, then crammed himself into an elevator corner. In close proximity, Jay could estimate each person’s floor from their stench alone.

Two abrasive dings later, Jay was at his destination.

“Excuse me, excuse me…” Jay shouted, his pleas muffled by shirts and shoulders.

Jay slipped through the packed elevator, moments before two doors sealed him in for a longer miserable ride. Finally, he was on floor fourteen.

Floor fourteen wasn’t a residential floor – it was a central commerce hub. An open space, lined with bright neon signs and shopping outlets. Most stores sold accessories for Zero Space. Some sold food. Only one sold medicine, and it was all the way on the other side.

Merchants didn’t bother calling out to Jay; he didn’t look like he had money. People from higher, wealthier floors were easy to spot. Their clothing gave them away. So did their smell, or lack thereof. Prices were better down here, if one was willing to “slum it up.” High class citizens didn’t bother hiding their identities. Like a high level Zero Space character, those who could afford vanity items had no problem flaunting them.

Vanity items were this floor’s specialty, sold on zero discs. Zero discs were flat round objects, no bigger than Jay’s palm. Each tiny disc housed big potential. All of his savings went into zero discs, transforming Shae from a laughing stock, to the best-looking laughing stock in his guild.

Anton however, wasn’t thrilled to find out where all of Jay’s credits had went. But Anton didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t play Zero Space, nor did he need to. He already had a great body - one that wasn’t falling apart on him. The game was the only place Jay could be himself. Even if that meant him being someone else.

Being a top player wasn’t just the only way to move up in Zero Space; it was also the best way of moving up floors in the Haven. If you couldn’t be a top player, your best bet was to buy zero discs until you looked like one.

The word ‘Heals’ flashed above Jay in bright green letters. It was excessive advertising for a pharmacy, but to stay in business on floor fourteen, you had to stay competitive. Marcen, the manager of Heals, was as competitive as they came. Years of shady business practices rendered his competitors defunct. If someone came to floor fourteen with medical needs, Marcen’s shop was their only option.

Products in Marcen’s store were jacked up to outrageous heights, exploiting those with chronic needs. His shop may not have been the busiest, but his frequent customers spent enough to make up for it – “Whales,” as he called them. Lesser spenders could find what they needed on “lesser floors.”

His employees suffered the worst of all. Verbal, and even physical abuse weren’t uncommon under his reign. Esara, his only remaining long-term employee, dreaded his infrequent visits. This job was the one thing keeping Esara out of the lower floors, and she was determined to maintain it, no matter what the cost.

The store was emptier than usual today. Esara passed the time by staring vacantly into the distance, humming along with a song that blasted over the store speakers:

Girlie, Girlie, Girlie,

You’re my cinnamon-swirlie,

You are spicy and you’re sweet,

Like an after-dinner treat.

Esara hated that song. It played several times a day - a cursed addition to the store’s musical rotation. She wasn’t sure what bothered her most about it. Maybe it was the cringe-worthy lyrics. Or the same tired four chords that plagued every pop song. This song was an oldie, but not a goodie. She was half-convinced this song was the reason the Static destroyed most of mankind.

Her hand brushed brown hair out of her sleepy eyes, allowing Jay to settle into her view. A faint smile spread across her bruised lips. Marcen didn’t inflict those bruises on her directly. Biting her lip was an anxious habit, and no one made her anxious like Marcen.

“Hi Asira,” said Jay.

“Call me Esara,” she growled.

“Sorry, it just sounds so, similar,” Jay said.

Esara sighed. Jay wasn’t wrong. She had named her Zero Space character “Asira” way back before she realized how important it was to conceal your identity. With your actual name, the wrong person could wreak havoc on both your real and virtual life.

Fortunately, most people never made the connection. Jay was one of her trusted confidants. He was an idiot in game, but she appreciated his real-life company.

“Girlie, Girlie girlie,” Jay sang along. “You’re my cinnamon…”

“Stop that,” Esara demanded. “You want me to smack you?”

Jay backed down. Anton had smacked him enough today.

“How much for the medicine?” he asked.

“Marcen is changing two thousand credits now,” said Esara. “If you sing that song again, it’s three thousand.”

“I’ve only got three hundred,” Jay replied.

“Sold.”

Esara had no problem sticking it to her greedy boss. She knew Jay needed it. If anything ever happened to Jay, that meant one less person in her guild.

“Ripping off your boss, huh?” Jay grinned. “Maybe I should report you.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” grumbled Esara.

“You threatened to report me to Chief.”

“I wasn’t going to do it. I was just trying to motivate you!”

“Esara,” boomed a voice nearby. It had to be Marcen. Jay could smell him from a mile away. That smell was cologne, probably from several floors above - Jay estimated floor twenty five. Maybe even floor thirty two. Jay hid his face as Marcen passed. Though Jay was a frequent visitor to this pharmacy, Marcen wasn’t familiar with him - Jay wanted to keep it that way.

Countless vent-sessions with Esara had soured Jay’s opinion of Marcen, but Jay couldn’t help but admire the large bald man’s sense of style. Marcen wore a black and white striped suit, with large ridiculous shades that concealed two beady little eyes. Jay could imagine Shae in this outfit; it would be a perfect fit, assuming it was several sizes smaller.

Esara’s teeth grinded against her bottom lip. In Zero Space, Esara was a bad-ass pterodactyl ninja. But here, she couldn’t just sneak away. Or slice Marcen open with orange swords, though she pondered that often.

“Esara, I may have a lead on our missing inventory problem,” said Marcen. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you? Hmm?”

Marcen was bullying her, but unfortunately, Esara did know something about it. Though she no longer lived on the lower floors, her social life still revolved around them. Her friends from below would sometimes come up to visit her. They weren’t just there for her – they were there for whatever they could fit in their pockets. Esara used to enable them, but she was already on thin ice with Marcen. It would only take one more major incident to --

“The Haven is a slippery slope Esara,” continued Marcen. “You could climb up for years, only to fall back down from a single push. People who reach out from below, only want to drag you back with them. You understand, right?”

“Yes sir,” said Esara.

Marcen grinned. He was taking his time getting to the point – it was more fun that way. “Wouldn’t it be sad for you to fall, after I pulled you up all this way? If I let you go, you’d be back on floor four before the day’s end. Is that what you want? Hmm?”

“No sir,” said Esara.

“Then why do you make it so hard for me to help you?” asked Marcen. “I took the liberty of examining your transaction history. I was on my way here to inform you of the results.”

Marcen withdrew a tablet from his coat – it was aglow with a spreadsheet full of numbers. Esara’s entire body went numb. This job was everything to her. She couldn’t lose it. Not like this. Not now.

“What were you and this man talking about just now? Hmm? Another flash-sale, perhaps?”

Esara didn’t comment. Marcen swiped-left on his tablet, displaying a list of recent transactions.

“Only three hundred credits for his medicine? Where did that additional seventeen hundred go? Hmm? Are you planning to pay for it? On your salary?”

Jay couldn’t just stand there and watch this happen. This was his fault – Esara had been caught helping him. He had to do something, but he didn’t know what. His whole body trembled. If only he had Shae’s purple guns...

Esara whimpered. “No, Sir, I --”

“I expected better Esara. I brought a bottom-feeder like you into my shop, and this is how you act? Robbing, and cheating me? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“Hey moron,” yelled Jay. “Get your hands in the air. I’m robbing you!”

Marcen froze. His round head rotated, staring towards Jay with a confounded expression.

“Esara,” growled Marcen. “What is your dumb little friend doing?”

“She’s not my friend,” Jay yelled. “I made that bitch sell me medicine at a lower price. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but…”

Jay had no idea what he was doing – he was winging it. He knew of Esara’s situation, and didn’t want it to worsen. If anything happened to her, that meant one less person in his guild.

“Robbing me?” asked Marcen. “With what weapon?”

“Give me your money, or you’ll see,” yelled Jay.

Marcen scanned Jay’s tiny body. “And where do you plan to put that money?

Another valid point. Jay’s heart was racing. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Esara was a friend, but this? There was no way Marcen would believe this. Jay was screwed.

“Just give me, some money then,” Jay stuttered. His eyes met Esara, desperate for assistance.

Marcen scowled. “I’ll give you five seconds to…”

“Get out of our store!” Esara screeched at Jay. She grabbed a pair of nearby crutches, brandishing them like a pair of orange swords. “You take one step closer to my boss, and I’ll kick your ass!”

Marcen was stunned. This entire scenario seemed odd, but he liked this new side of Esara. Maybe she did have some valuable qualities.

“Fine,” yelled Jay. “But I’m keeping the medicine!”

“You, and the medicine, are both staying right here,” commanded Marcen.

Marcen’s vest opened, revealing a pistol. It was not unlike Shae’s, but this one looked capable of doing actual damage. Jay didn’t stick around to find out.

“You, come back here!” Marcen yelled. “Enforcers!’

Jay sprinted through the marketplace, as reckless bullets chipped away at his shadow. He squeezed into a crowd, obstructing Marcen’s view with roving bodies.

Marcen wasn’t the type of man to let a few lost credits slide. He persisted, plowing through passing shoppers in his path. Two enforcers, Glen and Pat, stood by a coffee kiosk, sipping their drinks while watching the affair. They had better things to do than intervene. Like drink their coffee. As long as nobody died, it wasn’t really their problem. Especially on a floor this low.

Jay scrambled into an alley, taking shelter behind a trio of trash cans. Jay’s heart was racing. And it wasn’t just adrenaline - his condition was catching up to him. He struggled for air, collapsing to his knees. Each breath was a buried treasure; he fought against his body to uncover more.

But Jay wasn’t alone in this alley. Three men stood by – deserters. Their eyes lit up with feral hunger. They weren’t interested in Jay. They were however, interested in those pills peeking out from his pocket.

Jay gripped the wall for support, a string of drool dangling from his jaw. Deserters weren’t easily intimidated, especially by a man of Jay’s size. Jay couldn’t flee - Marcen was still out there. Despite Anton’s warning, Jay knew there was only one thing left to do: he had to fight!

The first deserter lunged towards Jay. Jay swerved sideways - right into another deserter fist. The fight was over already. All three deserters leapt upon Jay. Punching. And kicking. And stomping.

This was different than getting stomped on by Zero Space knights. The pain here was extreme. His body grew sore. Then bruised. Then numb. Then –

BANG

A gunshot echoed through the alley. All three deserters stopped, looking up to see –

-- Two enforcers in bright yellow uniforms - Glen and Pat – holding their weapons high. They were ready to kick some deserter ass.

Even deserters knew better than to mess with enforcers. They disengaged, retreating beyond the alley, into parts unknown. The enforcers hoisted Jay to his feet. It was still possible for Jay to stand, but walking would prove more difficult.

“You alright?” Glen asked.

“I, I don’t think so,” Jay stuttered.

“Sorry to hear that,” said Pat. “Well, good luck.”

The two enforcers strolled out of the alley, laughing and chatting about the day’s events. Typical enforcers. But at least Jay was still standing. And at least he still had his –

-- The medicine: it was gone. The deserters hadn’t left empty-handed. After Jay’s actions in Marcen’s shop, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get his next fix. And he had only two more days to figure it out.

Jay followed the deserters beyond the alley, where Marcen was unlikely to be. He wasn’t worried about further deserter confrontation – he had nothing left to steal.

His bruised legs didn’t carry him far. By his internal metric, only seven or eight unit doors went by before Jay fell to his knees, his hands touching down on cracked floor tiles. This wasn’t a part of the market he was familiar with. It was a less traveled route, populated by deprecated store fronts, and the occasional deserter.

Gray light from a window draped the area in a ghostly pale glow. It was quiet here. Just Jay, his thoughts, and the hypnotic rhythm of black rain, tapping against window glass. If only he could climb through that window and escape. Not to Zero Space, but out of the Haven for good. There was nothing he wanted more than to ditch this skyscraper prison. To travel past the Static, if such a thing were possible. There had to be somewhere out there better than where he was now. If he could just --

BRRZZZZZZ

The Haven window slid open with a metallic hum. Dark rain drifted inside, staining the walls with a dirty gray trail. What was happening? Those windows weren’t supposed to open. Jay had to get out of here. He had to tell an enforcer.

A small flat discus glided through the open window, landing in a black puddle on the floor. What was it? Jay had to know. He pinched it between two fingers, raising it to his eye level.

A zero disc? Impossible. Why would something like this fly through a Haven window?

BRRZZZZZZ

The window closed again. Jay didn’t understand what was going on, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. This wasn’t any of his business. But the zero disc? That was his now. He pocketed it, before fleeing the scene. If there was a disturbance in the Haven, the enforcers would find it. But he knew better than to be there when it happened.

Jay gathered his remaining stamina in preparation for his next major task:

The long journey home.