The abandoned Quantum Arcade greets you with eerie silence as you pry open the rusty back door. Your hand instinctively clutches the LED flashlight in your jacket pocket—tripling as a blinder and potential weapon. Every horror movie cliché flashes through your mind—abandoned buildings, stupid teenagers, terrible endings.
Maybe I should just go to Dakota’s and actually study. This whole thing could be an elaborate trap…
You step inside anyway. The air feels thick—a suffocating cocktail of dead electronics, ancient carpet, and something metallic that reminds you of blood. Your flashlight beam cuts through swirling dust particles that seem to move with purpose, beckoning you deeper.
The arcade sprawls like a labyrinth—tall cabinets clustered in islands, narrow pathways branching into shadows. Their blank screens reflect your light like dead eyes tracking your movements. The crudely taped on “OUT OF ORDER” signs seem like warnings rather than maintenance notes. A faint electrical hum emanates from somewhere deeper, pulsing at a rhythm that makes your skin crawl.
It shouldn’t have power—this place looks abandoned. Nothing about this feels right.
A game cabinet suddenly flickers to life beside you, showing a distorted face—yours?—for a split second before dying again. You freeze, flashlight beam settling on the words “THE GRAVEYARD” spray-painted across the far wall in faded red.
“This is definitely where old games go to die…“ you think, yet your curiosity about the Archivist’s promised cutting-edge technology pulls you forward…
Cutting-edge games no one has ever seen, immersive, realistic experiences beyond anything currently on the market, the envy of everyone at school when you tell them (if you tell them) what you’ve played…
Your eyes fall on a bike propped against the wall, also covered in a solid layer of dust like everything else in this place. At closer inspection you recognize this bike model exactly — the TREK-3040 Power-Assisted Electric model — your Mom’s dream bicycle. It’s equipped with a purple gel saddle just like the one she’s been eyeing for months.
For a second you try to justify if it would be considered stealing if you take something that’s been abandoned — and apparently it’s not missed…
Then you snap back, the charger — “Stay focused, you’re here for the charger” you tell yourself.
Following the Archivist’s instructions, you begin counting exactly twenty steps from the bike, each footstep echoing impossibly loudly in the cavernous space. Your synesthesia kicks in unbidden, numbers floating in the darkness around you, pulsing with warning colors that your brain usually reserves for danger.
“One… two… three…” you whisper, each number punctuated by another flickering cabinet in your peripheral vision. At “twelve,” you hear what sounds like breathing behind you, but when you spin around, nothing is there. The number ‘seventeen’ glows particularly bright as you pass a cabinet, the racing game to your left comes to life, its pixelated car caught in an endless loop of crashing into a wall, the digitized screams cutting off and restarting with each impact. At “twenty,” you’re standing before several cabinets with lightning bolt etchings that seem to glow faintly in the darkness.
“Is this some sort of joke?” you message The Archivist…
You wait a few minutes — no response.
You could still turn back. The door isn’t that far. You could make up some excuse for Dakota, study for a couple of hours, and go home to safety. No one would ever know you were here.
But the promise of what awaits… exclusive access to games that won’t be released for years, experiences your friends could only dream of, the chance to test something truly revolutionary…
Your hands shake as you brush away layers of dust from each cabinet’s front panel, your synesthetic abilities transforming the shapes into warning patterns of sickly greens and jagged reds. Only one cabinet produces a golden-yellow spiral—the pattern you associate with matches, though tonight it seems more like the hypnotic stare of a predator.
“Street Fighter 2: Championship Edition — of course it’d be you,” you murmur, tracing the now-visible title with your fingertip. The cabinet responds with a vibration that feels like a silent laugh.
With every instinct screaming at you to run, you enter the code The Archivist had sent to you: ➡ ⬇ ➡ [Punch]. Static electricity instantly makes your entire body tingle painfully, the metallic taste in your mouth growing stronger. The screen illuminates with the title screen shifting with a groan of protesting technology, static electricity building as the code activates something long dormant. Suddenly, a dissonance of metallic chimes erupts from the cabinet speakers — The credits on the game rapidly running up—1, 2, 3, 4… 10, 15, 20, 30—as if quarters are being fired into the coin slot at impossible speed. Your eyes dart to the coin mechanism, where the 25¢ orange backlit squares flicker frantically with each phantom credit ding.
You notice something odd—the actual coin case is slightly jarred open, metal bent outward as if from internal pressure. Curiosity overriding caution, you pry it open with trembling fingers. The cabinet shudders in response, the screen sliding sideways with mechanical precision to reveal a hidden compartment. There, nestled among decades of dust and forgotten technology, rests a sleek, matte-black and gun metal device—impossibly new and pristine amid the decay. Revealing a tiny sleek, matte-black and gun metal device resting on a dusty panel inside, looking impossibly new among the decay.
The Ether Rig Charger.
A small note beside it reads: “Now you have the juice :)”
The line strikes a chord—it’s from one of your mom’s favorite Tupac movies… How does the Archivist keep doing this—knowing things he probably shouldn’t…
Your hand hovers above the device as your mind races through every possible outcome. This could be a trap, a prank, or something much darker. You’ve seen enough true crime shows to know how these stories typically end.
But then again… what you experienced back at the game store… The Archivist had shown you glimpses—you could only imagine the possibilities—photorealistic racing through impossible landscapes, adventures in worlds so immersive you could feel the wind on your face, multiplayer experiences where you couldn’t tell the difference between AI and human players. Technology that wouldn’t exist for decades, maybe centuries, somehow right at your fingertips…
As you put the device on your head, you look around suspiciously, scanning the shadows for hidden cameras, microphones, or worse—people waiting to jump out once you’re distracted.
“This has to be some elaborate marketing stunt,” you mutter to yourself as you plug in the device, trying to convince yourself more than anything else. “Probably filming me for a viral video.”
The device powers up with a sound that’s less like a hum and more like a hungry growl. For a moment, nothing happens, and you consider unplugging it and making a run for the exit.
Then the air in front of you distorts, molecules seeming to scream as they’re forced apart. A holographic figure materializes—a woman of stunning beauty that defies conventional description, her presence both familiar and alien simultaneously. Her eyes catch you first, deep pools shifting between something like code and cosmic vistas.
Her skin shimmers with a subtle amber luminescence, seeming to shift between material and energy with each graceful movement. Long flowing dreadlocks cascade down her shoulders, interwoven with cybernetic beads that pulse with ethereal light, sometimes displaying microscopic code sequences that change with her thoughts. Her features possess a perfect symmetry that feels both ancient and evolved beyond what humans could become, as if she represents humanity’s distant future rather than its present. Yet she resembles the physical traits of someone in her late 20’s.
The “☉” symbol pulses at her temples, casting impossible shadows across pristine features, occasionally sending ripples across her form that momentarily reveal the complex lattice of pure information beneath her humanoid appearance. You sense you’re merely perceiving the fraction of her essence that your mind can process, like viewing a four-dimensional being through three-dimensional constraints…
SHE must be THE ARCHIVIST…
“Welcome to what we call the LORE Engine,” she continues, her voice resonating with a clarity that suggests you’re hearing it directly in your mind rather than through your ears. “This is where your journey truly begins.”
“Is this some kind of… next-gen neural VR game?” you ask, your voice sounding distant and strange even to yourself. “The graphics and haptics and sound — they are incredible! Like, PlayStation 7 level stuff!”
The Archivist’s eyes lock with yours, the “☉” symbol pulsing brighter at her temples. “The KNOXX is no mere game, the VR you refer to — these are but old games of the past…” she says enigmatically.
“Of course it would say that,” you think, recognizing the classic NPC line designed to immerse players deeper in the experience. “That’s what they always say in the really good VR games to make you feel like it’s real.”
She continues, “The KNOXX is where reality exists beyond conventional boundaries, beyond what your mind has been trained to perceive as possible — it’s where old games go to die.“
“Did you just—read my mind?” you ask, a chill running down your spine.
Without acknowledging your question she continues, her voice resonating with an echo that makes your teeth vibrate painfully, “The KNOXX, exists beyond mere description. It must be… experienced, understood.”
The air between you shimmers and suddenly explodes outward in a cascade of light that envelops you completely. Your body tenses, but instead of pain, you feel a strange weightlessness as the arcade dissolves around you. You’re suspended in a void filled with countless threads of pulsing light—some as thin as hair, others as thick as your arm, all vibrating with energy that you can feel thrumming against your skin like bass from a speaker.
“Touch them,” the Archivist’s voice commands, now seemingly coming from inside your own head. You notice parts of her occasionally glitch out, breaking into sharp fragments before snapping back together, making your stomach lurch each time. “These are called tethers—the foundation of everything that will transform humanity’s future.”
So they’re like waypoints in open-world games?” you ask, searching for a familiar comparison.
The Archivist smiles. “Exactly like that, but so much more.”
When you hesitantly extend your hand toward a nearby strand, it responds to your approach, bending toward your fingers like a plant seeking sunlight. The moment contact is made, the thread wraps around your wrist with a warmth that spreads up your arm and into your chest.
“Whoa!” A kaleidoscope of sensations floods your consciousness—the smell of rain on hot concrete, the taste of food you’ve never eaten, the sound of voices speaking languages you don’t understand but somehow comprehend.
You pull away, gasping. “That felt too real—way beyond any haptic feedback I’ve ever experienced.”
“This is the first principle of tethering,” the Archivist explains, pointing to the thread that has changed color and now pulses in rhythm with your heartbeat. “The ability to connect across the boundaries of reality. Without it, there is no Fast Travel between bodies, no Respawning, no traversing between worlds.”
“Like body-hopping, but taken to another level,” you say, trying to process this through your gamer’s perspective.
She interjects, “No. This isn’t mere body hopping—you’re not just controlling a puppet. You’re extending your very essence, your soul, into another form of existence.”
More threads converge around you, each labeled with glowing symbols: bodies switching consciousnesses, people teleporting across distances, figures dying only to return in new forms.
“Information overload much?” you mutter, blinking rapidly as the concepts pile upon each other. “I think I need a tutorial level.”
“Reality doesn’t exist in a straight line,” she whispers, appearing beside you. When she looks at you—really looks at you—it feels like being X-rayed. Before your eyes, what was empty space transforms into a sprawling replica of New York City—impossibly complex, with buildings that shouldn’t exist alongside familiar landmarks.
You whistle in appreciation. “The level design on this is insane. Way better than anything from Cubisoft.”
“Imagine trying to explore New York City by walking in a straight line,” she continues, tracing her finger through the air. A glowing path shoots through the miniature city like a laser. “Absurd, isn’t it? But this is how most envision time and life itself, linearly.”
“Like trying to speedrun an open-world game by ignoring all side quests,” you suggest.
“Precisely! You’d miss the hidden alleys and dry-docks where the downtrodden are forced to plot, scam and scheme to survive, the rooftops where men plot their dark schemes, the underground tunnels where the fate of multiple realities will be decided.”
With a wave of her hand, the straight line shatters, and the city explodes into a complex web of connections that make your head spin—a tapestry of competing theories, contradicting philosophies, and intricate metaphysical paradoxes that make your head spin.
Your eyes unfocus as you try to process the overwhelming barrage of information. Then suddenly, your mind does what it always does—finds the pattern beneath the chaos, strips away the excess, reveals the core truth.
“It’s just threads connecting everything,” you say, the clarity of it washing over you like cool water. “People, places, times—they’re all connected by these… paths. And if you see the path, and if you can touch the path, you can follow it anywhere.”
The Archivist stops mid-explanation, her eyes widening as she stares at you. “THAT is why you are here!” she exclaims, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “Simplicity. Your mind cuts through the noise we’ve created, finds the elegant truth beneath our complications.”
The web contracts suddenly, collapsing into a complex geometric shape that hovers between you. It constantly folds in on itself, revealing new facets with each rotation—a puzzle box of cosmic proportions that you instinctively understand is meant to overwhelm and intimidate.
“Then there lies THE CURE — fragmented truths scattered across countless lives and experiences,” she says, her voice taking on a reverent quality. “The answers to death and resurrection, to time’s flow, to THE VISITORS’ purpose, to the war between Protectors and Exploiters. Even I cannot see the complete picture.”
Your mind naturally begins attempting to solve the patterns you see, your hands moving instinctively to align edges that seem to belong together. For a brief, stunning moment, a section of the puzzle clicks into place, and you catch a glimpse of something vast and beautiful and terrifying—but it disappears too soon, leaving afterimages burned into your retinas like brands.
“Your mind isn’t yet bound by uncertainties. You still have IMAGINATION — you believe in possibilities,” she says, studying you intently. “While our quantum physicists and metaphysicists argue and debate the theoretical foundations of tethering technology for centuries, you simply see the connections and follow them. You have a superpower that the greatest minds of the future have long lost—the ability not to overcomplicate the obvious.”
“This power is simply: Simplicity.”
As she speaks, the web responds to your movements, reshaping itself according to patterns that seem to emerge from your own thoughts. Colors shift and blend where your attention lingers, textures transform beneath your touch, connections form and dissolve as if reading your intentions before you’re fully aware of them yourself.
Two cards float in front of you, the one labeled “The Book of Secrets”, the other one labeled “The Severing” pulsing with gentle light, beckoning you forward.
For a brief moment, her tone shifts dramatically—warmer, more mentor-like than the detached, analytical voice she was using seconds ago. You notice a subtle change in her eyes, as if someone else is momentarily looking through them before the previous presence reasserts itself. The “☉” symbol at her temple flickers through several patterns as this happens.
“This is a trial version of the Lore Engine—KNOXX 101,” the Archivist explains. “The rest will unlock if you prove capable of handling this initial challenge.”
The Archivist begins to fade, her form dissolving into the same particles that make up the web. As she disappears, a new card-like object forms in the air between you: The words “‘The Severing’ Experience Unlocked” glowing against the darkness like an open wound. When you reach toward it, the static clings to your fingers like fine sand, cool and slightly electric.
“Remember,” her voice echoes, though her form is gone, the sound coming simultaneously from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through the threads still connected to your body. “Simplicity… Keep it simple, stupid.”
The void around you seems to shift, new pathways appearing where none existed before. Distant doorways pulse with strange light, each a different color, each beckoning you forward. When you move toward one, you can feel a subtle pull, as if gravity itself is encouraging your choice. The threads still attached to you strain in different directions, each one a possible path forward, each one leading to experiences you can sense but not yet comprehend.
You could still unplug the charger. Walk away. Pretend none of this ever happened. The exit is right there, and the real world—with its biology tests and dinner curfews—suddenly seems wonderfully, mercifully ordinary.
But the KNOXX awaits, with games and experiences no human has ever seen…
So with a final ounce of confidence, you reach to touch “The Severing” and continue to whatever’s next…
Little did you know your childhood officially ends the moment you choose The KNOXX over math homework and dinner with your mom…