Purchase indGame in paperback, e-book, or audiobook

Like I said, my name’s Packard Campbell. Most people just call me Pack, except my dad, but I don’t mind Packard. So many people stress about how their birth name sounds. Rodneys become Rod, Jakobs become Jake, Richards become Dick. You know what I’m talking about. And why? Because it sounds more mature? Because it rolls off the tongue more easily? Whatever. My name is my name, and I’m proud of it.

Anyway, my name isn’t the problem. It’s everything else.

It’s weird. I mostly know who I am, but it’s like I’ve got memories of past lives, or I see glimpses of alternate versions of myself somewhere in the multiverse. It makes zero sense, right? Especially since I think I know where all these memories came from. I beta-test new first-person neural-interface games for my dad’s company, indGame. Funny, back to the name thing again. The real name of the company is Individual Gaming, but he calls it indGame. That doesn’t sound more mature to me. If you ask me, indGame sounds better as a video game or movie title. Check us out at IndividualGaming.com if you’re interested. I’ve got my own profile and everything. Take that, Vic E. Parker! Oh, sorry. Vic was my middle school bully. I occasionally need to remind the universe I’m not the slaghead he always made me out to be. It’s cathartic. I’ll get over it one day, you’ll see.

Oh, dang, I squirreled, didn’t I? Where was I? Richard becomes Dick… Oh, yeah, beta-testing. I’m the primary tester for all the new games that indGame releases. You’ve probably played at least a few of them: Tournament of Warlords, Marshal Blood, Gifted, Animehem, and String Theories are all currently available. I’ve tested more than twenty others that haven’t even been released yet. I think Tom Mux: Space Marine was my favorite, but LepreKong was a flippin’ trip, and I actually peed a little while playing dad’s latest cosmic horror game, Crawlspace.

Hey, don’t laugh. I pee a little during lots of the games. I don’t even have to be afraid or excited. See, when I was in middle school, doctors diagnosed me with a previously undiscovered neuromuscular disorder, Atrophic Lamin A Sclerosis, that’s been slowly but surely eating away at my ability to use my own body. I call it ALAS, since it’s like Progeria and Lou Gehrig’s disease had a really colicky baby, then put energy drinks in its bottle. Yeah, I joke, but it sucks. The first symptoms reared their ugly head during my freshman year in high school. By the time I was a junior, I was completely numb from the belly button down. At least Vic never saw me like this. Slaghead would have been a compliment compared to the bullshit comments I would have had to endure as my body forgot how to walk. I’m mostly glad mom didn’t have to watch dad and me go through this. She died when I was nine. The doctors think her condition and mine might be related, but they can’t be completely sure. She was wonderful and I miss her every day. Dad does too, but he’s strong in ways I don’t think she could have been. If she hadn’t died, watching me die would have killed her anyway. Oh, yeah, I’m dying too. I’ve got three to five years tops before my body won’t breathe on its own. I told dad that I don’t want to end up a vegetable kept alive by machines. Even though I know it hurts him, I’m old enough to request a do not resuscitate order.

Crap, I squirreled again. Sorry. Rodney, beta testing? Peeing myself, that’s it. I’ve played all of dad’s games from start to finish and found all the gold star items and platinum levels to boot. I’m proud of that accomplishment, to be honest.

Okay, so this is where it gets weird. My consciousness gets cloned into the system when I jack in, so the games play like I’m actually the character, leaving memories of the game in my head that feel as real as, well, reality. I’ve always been able to solidly distinguish between reality and the virtual world. Today, though, things are different. Jumbled memories keep coming at me rapid-fire. One moment, I’m remembering an Easter egg hunt with my mom. The next, I’m reliving slicing the top of some alien warlord’s head off in a multiversal coliseum. I’m on the verge of my first panic attack in half a decade, and the floodgates don’t seem to be planning to close anytime soon.

Whisper. I remember. Whisper…

Hold onto your horses, folks. Here we go again…