It’s a Thursday afternoon at a tavern in the middle of New Jersey. The patronage is sort of slow given that it’s a Thursday, but that doesn’t perturb the old barkeep. The tavern itself isn’t large, just big enough to satisfy the condition of the old barkeep who owns and runs the place. A wraparound front bar sits a little off to the left of the entrance and the surrounding tables are mostly vacant, except for a couple spare tourists making a pit stop on their way to New York.

The entirety of the tavern hearkens to the earthy and wood-like feel of old Britain, mixed with the preindustrial age of American capitalism. Five minutes later, a haggard looking man barges through the wide double doors and sits at the counter.

“Had ‘nother one didja?” asks the barkeep. “I’ll get the bottle as usual,” the man replies hoarsely while wiping his palms across his face in an attempt to clean the sweat and tears that were prevalent on his cheeks and forehead.

Staring at the distraught man, the barkeep sighs and says, “Eli, it’s not good ta keep comin in here all da time. Ya really need to go an’ ask ta see one a dem therapists fuh help.”

“You know I can’t stand shrinks, just give me my fucking drink Ernest,” the man replies with a look of indifference.

Ernest looks at him for a while, wondering which memory had haunted him this time. Finally, he limps away to go get the bottle of a Jack Daniels Classic situated at the back bar. After a couple of minutes, he comes back with the bottle, sets it down in front of the haggard man, and returns to the other side of the bar to resume cleaning the mugs.

The man sitting at the counter stares longingly at the bottle before he drags his hands across the counter, shuffling the coaster that was previously sitting in front of him onto the floor. He gently picks up the bottle, as if it were a sacred artefact, and proceeds to slowly drag it back across the counter.

This man is Elijiah Pierce, a 26-year-old history student. He sat there, slumping his tall, barrel chested frame onto the counter, as if trying to find some manner of purchace within its well worn figure. His hands cradle the bottle, filling in the gaps of his callus' with the dew of the cold drinks kiss. He was old, older than most his age, as it sported its victories within the murky depths of his dark eyes.

Ernest, the old barkeep, worried for him. In all his years hauling the lines of his sailboat, he had never once come across a man so stricken by time. He had seen its likeness in but a few of his fellow sailors, those few who returned from the front lines of the war being haunted by the shadows within their minds.

Eli unscrews the top and proceeds to greedily gulp down the contents of the bottle, almost the same way a drug addict acts as they are receiving their first dose of drugs after going into a heavy withdrawal.

The minutes pass in silence as he drowns himself in the drink. Bottle after bottle having been tossed his way, each emptied before going on to the next one.

No matter how hard I try, I can never get fully drunk, He thinks to himself as he tears the latest bottle away from his lips after having drained half of it. He blamed his training because of it.

“-And now for the latest on the world. The Peoples Republic of …-”

Looking up at the interruption, he notices the miniature holovid set above the bar. He vaguely pays attention to it as the news anchor reports about the ongoings of the world, seeming to not care as he listens to the crap being spewed by an overly politicized media outlet.

Three ongoing civil wars, superpower nations’ trying in vain to staunch a failing economy, food and water shortages and massed riots in the southern Asian provinces as well as the northern parts of Africa, a population of nearly 13 billion within the world and the entertainment industry still finds ways to help the common folk forget all their troubles with the gaming and movie industry being at its peak.

He continues to stare at the television set as he swigs the drink multiple times. The minutes pass and he drains the bottle and proceeds to ask for another.

Slowly blocking out all of the external noises, and the alcohol haphazardly being thrust into his system, his chest burns violently as the last vestiges of his reason for coming to the bar in the first place resurface in his being. It was a kind of ringing in his head, as a memory slowly surfaces from his consciousness, accompanied by the pain of what had happened that day.

The blazing heat of a fire rages around him as gunfire and energy weapons are discharged into the surroundings of the 3rd floor of the seven storey mansion. The inside of the hallway leading down to the stairway, once elegant and crisp in its grandeur, barely held together at the seams as the massed bullet holes, grenade explosions and broken furniture littered the floor and walls.

Million dollar paintings were now worth little more than a couple credits as they either lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, or torn to shreds from massed gunfire while still hanging on the walls. Table stands missing leg posts, and doors’ ripped from their frames with sprayed wood chips lay strewn around the room.

The very epitome of destruction and carnage painted the seen as the surroundings are bathed with inexhaustible heat and flame. He lays face down on the ground as a wall from the previous room had caved in on him as he was making his exfiltration from the premises.

“-The building won’t last much longer Princess! Haul your ass out of there!-” his earpiece buzzes against his cheek as it wakes him from his reverie.

He struggles for a moment, lifting the 35 kilos worth of body armor and ammunition as well as the 300 kilos of reinforced wall.

God damnit…note to self, don’t try to exit through the floor.

A door slams open from the other end of the hall, revealing the remarkably small and wiry figure of a friend sporting the same kit as he.

“Jeezus mate! What the bloody hell are ya doin on the floor?!” Ian cries out as he rushes over to him and tries to pick the wall off of him.

Ian Ainsley, a 35 year-old ex-Special Forces operative for the British crown after a bureaucratic asshole flushed his career down the drain. Grown and raised by the organization created by both Ian and Eli’s master. He was a remarkable demolitions specialist and the overall best mid-range marksman for the Crown.

“Had to make myself a hole in order to not get filled with more holes.” Eli answers sarcastically.

“How many were after ya this time? Fifteen? Twenty?” Ian asks hurriedly as he finishes picking the wall off of him.

Standing up, Eli picks his carbine off the floor and looks down at Ian before saying, “There were two TAGs blocking my path. I didn’t really—”

Ian’s eyes widen as he recognizes the term being given to him, but as Eli was finishing, a familiar sound coming from the stair case behind them interrupts his moment. It was the chink of a grenade as it bounces off a wall followed by it rolling towards him.

Both of them freeze and simultaneously swivel their weapons towards the staircase before-

BOOOM!!!

A flash of light, and Eli wakes up on the floor of the tavern. He had slipped off of the stool and was now on his back as he stares at the ceiling. His drink still in his hand, slowly emptys its contents onto the floor.

“Everythin alright Eli?” Ernest asks as he looks over the counter at him with eyes filled with concern.

Not paying any attention to his surroundings, he couldn’t have noticed that what little of the patronage that was within the dim taverns confines had all swiveled their heads in his direction. Each pair of eyes held a different emotion as they each took their own time judging the man on the floor.

Breathing in deep controlled breaths, Eli takes a moment to get his racing heart rate back under control. The more he breathed, the more he felt the tenseness in his limbs start to recede, loosening them enough to where he could finally move them.

“I’m gonna need another—” Eli starts as he slides onto another stool but is interrupted by yet another opened bottle being placed in front of him.

He pulls his wrist in front of him and feels for his pulse, noting that it was still a bit too quick and proceeds to continue with the breathing exercise. Glancing at his handcrafted watch, he notes the time and thinks that it’s about time to leave the establishment.

“I’m taking the bottle with me, old man.” He says as he lays some crumpled bills on the counter.

“Just be sure ta think bout seein somebody bout that nightmare o yours,” Ernest replies quietly as he watches the man leave.

As he nears the door, he hears the vid screen start advertising something by Corellec Inc. As if there weren’t enough advertisements by that company.

“-Corellec Inc. is proud to announce our 10-year anniversary for being the top virtual reality gaming company in the world! In celebration of this, we will be holding a lottery at all the university campuses worldwide for the chance to win a free account, and a free subscription to the game for a lifetime! The only catch is that you have to be a student of the stated university to apply for the lottery! We hope to see you all there!-”

Throwing is gaze over his shoulder, he makes a mental note to himself.

What’s so great about it anyway?

Looking out on the city, he is greeted by tall skyscrapers and a plethora of cultural restaurants each shouting their own version of aggressive advertisement towards those trudging through the streets of New Brunswick. That was what its official name was at any rate. Everyone else just called it the Hub. Most called it by this name because of the fact that one could find practically anything within the city. Research and development of all things material and immaterial had found their place here. Be it the cure to a new cancer or rare psychological disorder, or the musings of those of the spiritually inclined. Everything and everyone had to have a moral code to live by to reside in this city. That was what it took to live there.

Looking back up at the sign of the tavern, making out the bold sea green letters hanging above the wide double doors, reads it, and promptly takes another swig of his beverage.

The Livers Worst

That was what Ernest had called it when he opened it ten years ago. “If you were ta die at dis very moment, would ya rather be stuck sickly inna bed, or grippin’ a beer in one hand while settlin’ a good ol bar brawl with the other?” That was what he asked Eli 3 years ago when he stumbled in the first time. Consequently, it had not been a pleasant evening for him.

The city of New Brunswick welcomed all. Its towering skyscrapers mixed with its old architecture made it seem as though pieces of history from every piece of the world were brought together at a singular location.

Trudging along the sidewalk with a half empty bottle of alcohol, the looks of other pedestrians showed their contempt for the man, each judging him to be a hapless drunk. Bus stops pass by, the occasional homeless man, none seemed to wish to speak with him if one could see his current attire. As he rounds a corner heading towards the suburbs, he looks up just in time to see the familiar sights.

Artificial grass rolls for a while before hitting a playground. Adults stood talking to each other as their children rambled and rumbled about the sand of the grounds. All the children looked to be toddlers from the distance but he decided not to watch it for too long lest a memory rise up again to haunt him. He sauntered on for a few more minutes as he passed the park, not sparing any of the adults a glance as they watched cautiously as he passed.

The longer he walked, the closer he got to his sister’s school, Zephyr Lane High School. At first he could make out the distinct outline of the large buildings. It was an unassuming settlement. That was what it looked like from the outside at least. It was built this way because of all of the ongoings in the world. Namely, terrorism in other countries had taken a turn for the worst and had turned their terrorism onto the major nations schools themselves. As such, other countries started hiding their schools in order to make sure that they weren’t as likely a target.

This happened decades ago, long before Eli had been born. Gazing at Zephyr High, he couldn’t help but think that it was the right move at the time considering all that was going on.

I don’t think any of the terrorist groups in the world at the moment are stupid enough to come here though. he thinks to himself as he throws the glass bottle in a nearby recycle bin at the side of a bus stop.

Nonetheless, it was still a state of the art school with all the best things money can buy. The gates of the school held some form of warm welcome considering that they were there to keep people out. Buses had already lined up at the ramp at the east side of the complex, as if ready to ferry their charges back to their homes and into the waiting arms of their guardians. Just as he walks to the front gates, he hears the final bell toll, signaling the release of the students.

Walking up to the front of the school, he leans against the side of the building to wait for his sister. It doesn’t take long for a crowd to form as eager students are leaving the building. Scanning the crowd, he tries to figure out where his sister is because he didn’t remember her putting on any form of perfume so that he could differentiate her smell from everyone else. Just as he is about to head inside to look further, a sweet voice chimes from behind him.

“Eli what are you doing here so early?” his sister asks as she walks up to him.

I really gotta stop teaching her how to blend in so well because this is getting ridiculous. He thinks before he responds with a slight quip with a familial.

“Oh I wouldn’t know. Here I was, looking for a bomb-shelled beauty of a teacher that could keep me company and what do I get? A crowd of hormonal kiddies who don’t know how to cope with their emotions swarming me from all sides!”

“Oh please! I know you don’t have the balls to ask Miss Harley out for a date.” She retorts with a snort and a hand on her hip. Leaning forward, she sniffs him and cringes a bit at the acrid scent of alcohol draped around him. Taking a moment to dig inside her purse, she takes out a small bottle of perfume and proceeds to drench him in it.

“At any rate, it’s nice to see you here bro!” she says putting the bottle back.

“Ya, ya, nice to see you too Aella.” He jokes as he scans her quickly to see if there were anything out of the ordinary.

Aella was the polar opposite of her brother. Lithe and lanky she was, her ravens hair sat atop her head tied neatly in a bun. Where her brother exuded both dominance and loss, she filled the air with a flighty attitude followed by a quick smile.

“We’d best get goin if we want to make it home at a decent hour.” he replies as he suddenly turns around.

“Wait up! Can’t you at least ask me how my day was? Did I make any new friends? That sort of thing!” she says as she hoists her backpack and tries to catch up at the increasing distance between them widens.

You were gonna tell me anyway Aella so there would’ve been no point to ask, he thinks to himself.

He listens to her chatter about her day, almost seeming oblivious to his surroundings as they walk together down the sidewalk. High school drama, soccer tournaments, and college prep seemed to be the most pressing issues that she was having at the school before a topic he wasn’t expecting pealed from her mouth.

“… an account for the new game by Corellec.”

“Wait what?” he asks.

“You didn’t know? It’s been the talk of the school for the past week! Everyone is either waiting to see what to expect from the new game or trying to graduate early so they can get in on this lottery.”

“Well I heard about it from… somewhere…”

“You heard it at the bar didn’t you.” she says, eyes squinting as if in accusation of what she already knew to be true.

“…I’m not even going to grace that with a retort shorty.”

“Oh, I know! I know the perfect way to find out! Time to take a short visit to your school!” she says and starts running ahead of him.

Jeezus what is she thinking this time, he thinks as he jogs behind her, knowing full well that once she has a plan on her mind she won’t deviate from said plan.

The minutes pass by as he and Aella weave through the pedestrians in light of the afternoon sun. It doesn’t take them long to reach the school, grand and majestic as can be as it was one of the few structures that hadn’t been cast down in the bombings of World War Three.

Finding her long out of sight, he looks around for her as he walks up the front steps towards the admin building. Seeing the line out the door however, he decided against it and moved towards the library.

Before long, he saw her bouncing backpack as it jumped up and down in anticipation near the line for the lottery stationed just outside.

“What the hell are we doing here Aella?” he whispers.

Turning around, she smiles mischievously and says,

“YOU are going to put your name in for the new account!”

“…And why exactly would I want to do that?” he asks as perplexed by the statement as those around him.

Those in the line were confused on why wouldn’t he want to put his name in for the lottery considering the hype for such an achievement to pull something of this scale around the globe. Eli’s own confusion stemmed from his sister’s actions considering the fact that she knew that he would never willingly enter the lottery without a reason.

“Because then I would be able to play your hilarious actions in it if you win for my friends!” she chuckles thinking about it.

“Ah, it’s such a great feeling to be able to be the butt of the joke isn’t it, fair sister. Will this humiliation be net-worthy or will it be solely for your friends’ amusement?” he asks.

“Depends on how bad you are!” she says to which the rest of the line starts chuckling.

“That also depends on whether or not I will actually win it. You know with my luck I won’t get it so why bother?”

“You do realize that there 10 prizes right? Even if you don’t win the lifetime subscription, you can still win the beta account!”

Sighing, he mutters a small “Very well” before entering the line with her. The line was small considering that the it was nearing the end of the day and that the lottery was about to close. The minutes pass as he waits in line but he couldn’t shake this feeling like he was being used. Most likely used by his sister for more fun and games, but he didn’t care at this point.

“One ticket please,” Eli asks the receptionist as he nears the table.

“Student ID.” She says, not taking her nose out of the book, while pointing with one hand to the scanner in front of her. Obliging, he scans it before she then says,

“Alright that’ll be 10 credits and I’ll need your biometric print so SIN please.”

He gives her a blank look, not comprehending what she is asking.

“SIN? What is a SIN?”

She looks up from her book, flaked yellow pages crinkling as they show their time among the living. Eyes going wide as she starts getting nervous now that she has to actually pay attention to the man in front of her.

“Y-you don’t have a SIN?”

“I would assume not but I don’t really know what it is.”

Quiet mutterings of those behind him wonder exactly how far he had gotten in his college career given the fact that almost everything was automated and required scanners to do anything in the current age.

“A SIN is a-a System Identification Number. A bionic chip th-that is usually submitted somewhere on-n the body that holds all relevant d-data that c-can be used by government tracking agencies, m-medical services, food dispensaries, and personal net-carts... how long have you been among the States sir?”

Eli looks around him, wondering if it was just him learning about this, but judging by the looks of embarrassment on each of the other student’s faces it seemed as if it was just him.

“Apparently not long enough. Is there some way that I can—”

“J-just give me your hand s-sir so that I-I can get a DNA swab for the b-basic SIN requirements. Those are all I need for th-the lottery at this time.” She says as she picks up a tablet with a built in scanner. Her eyes never leaving his as if enraptured by his presence.

Sighing, he presses his hand to it and drops a few hard credit chips before heading off the campus with Aella prancing behind him with a bright smile plastered to her face. Once the two of them had gotten out of earshot, those still in the line wondered who he was while purchasing their own tickets.

The receptionist, not paying attention to the rest of them, flicked frantically through her PDA, which was connected to the scanner, to find out who the young man without the SIN was. A desperate attempt to find out who he was despite the short time that she had talked with him.