Earth, United States of America - 2040
The rain fell in sheets against the windows of Zaiden Locke's apartment, the water distorting the holographic advertisements that illuminated the Chicago skyline. Their garish colors, promoting everything from neural implants to lunar vacations, cast an unnatural glow across his sparse living room. He sat motionless in his gaming chair, the only sound present; the gentle hum of his high-end computer system and the occasional rumble of thunder.
At twenty-three, Zaiden had already seen enough of the world to know he wanted little part in it. Three years in the Army had stripped away whatever idealism he might have harbored about America's place in the global order. What remained was a cold understanding of how the world actually worked; who held power, who suffered, and how the narrative fed to civilians rarely matched reality.
"System, dim windows," he muttered, and the smart glass darkened, mercifully blocking out the gaudy advertisements. The apartment returned to its preferred state: a cave illuminated only by the glow of his curved monitor array.
His military pension hit his account today; meager compensation for what he'd seen in the resource wars in Africa, but enough to keep him in this mid-tier apartment with high-speed quantum net access. It was all he needed. The outside world had nothing he needed. He saw through its carefully constructed illusions.
A notification pulsed in the corner of his vision; his neural interface flagging a message. Probably Tanner again, trying to coax him out to some bar or club. Zaiden dismissed it with a thought. His few remaining friends from before his service still tried occasionally, but they'd mostly given up. They couldn't understand what it was like to return to civilian life when you knew the truth about the military-corporate alliance that actually ran things.
"System, launch Galactic Ascension," he commanded.
The monitor array shifted, displaying the loading screen for the newest 4X strategy game that had consumed his waking hours for the past three weeks. The game's premise was simple enough: guide humanity through its first steps into interstellar space, discover new worlds, and eventually encounter alien civilizations. Standard sci-fi fare, but the neural-linked game play and procedurally generated universe made it the most immersive strategy experience on the market.
As the game loaded, Zaiden reached for the half-empty energy drink on his desk. The caffeine and taurine mixture was a poor substitute for the military-grade stims he'd had access to during his service, but it kept him sharp through the long gaming sessions that had become his primary escape.
The title screen materialized; a breathtaking view of Earth from orbit, with a massive colony ship departing for the stars. Below it, the words "GALACTIC ASCENSION" pulsed gently, waiting for his command.
"New campaign," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Advanced settings."
The system responded, opening the game's extensive customization menu. Zaiden spent the next twenty minutes meticulously adjusting parameters; resource scarcity, technological progression rates, potential for alien hostility. He wanted a challenge, something that would require his full strategic capabilities. The only advantage he took was in his origin: From the Ashes; First explored galaxy will contain the Ancient Fallen Ones. It basically just gave him some cool artifacts early on to boost scientific research.
Outside his apartment, America continued its slow decline behind a facade of technological progress. The wealth gap had become a wealth chasm. Coastal cities thrived while the interior withered. Military recruitment advertisements targeted the desperate with promises of purpose and stability; the same promises that had lured him in five years ago.
But none of that mattered in here. In here, humanity had a fresh start. In here, he could shape civilization's path among the stars without the baggage of Earth's broken systems.
"Finalize settings," he commanded, and the game began to generate his unique universe.
The loading bar crawled across the screen as the quantum algorithms built his playground. Zaiden took another swig of his energy drink and settled in. This would be his fourth campaign, and he planned to try a different approach; focusing on scientific advancement and exploration rather than military might or economic dominance. He had already beaten the three military paths available in game.
The bar reached 100%, and the screen shifted to show Earth again, this time from the perspective of a space station in high orbit. A notification appeared: "Commander Locke, humanity's future awaits your guidance."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. In the real world, Zaiden Locke was a disillusioned veteran surviving on a pension, invisible to the powers that shaped society. But here, in Galactic Ascension, he was Commander Locke; the visionary who would lead humanity to the stars.
"System, engage neural link," he said, and the familiar tingling sensation spread across his scalp as the game interfaced directly with his neural implant; standard issue for all soldiers, one of the few benefits he'd kept from his service.
The apartment around him began to fade as the game's immersion protocols activated. Soon he would be standing on the bridge of humanity's first interstellar vessel, making decisions that would shape an entire civilization's destiny.
As reality dissolved around him, Zaiden felt the tension in his shoulders release. Here was a world he could control, a future he could influence. Here was an escape from the disillusionment of 2040 America.
The transition to full immersion was nearly complete when something unusual happened. The neural link, normally a smooth connection, began to fluctuate. The game environment flickered, code scrolling rapidly across his vision.
"System, disengage neural link," Zaiden commanded, suddenly alert. No response.
The code scrolling across his vision intensified, and a strange sensation; like electricity but somehow deeper, more fundamental, began to spread through his body.
"System, emergency shutdown!" he shouted, but his voice seemed to echo in a space that was neither his apartment nor the game world.
The last thing Zaiden Locke saw of Earth was the rain-streaked window of his Chicago apartment, the holographic advertisements beyond it blurring into streaks of meaningless color as his consciousness was pulled elsewhere.
The last thing he felt was not fear, but a strange sense of release—as if the bonds tethering him to a world he'd grown to despise had finally, mercifully, broken.
Then everything went white...
Slowly consciousness returned to Zaiden in waves, like a tide gradually washing over a shoreline. First came sound; the soft hum of machinery, the gentle beeping of electronic systems, the murmur of voices speaking in clipped, professional tones. Then sensation; the feel of a firm surface beneath him, the brush of fabric against his skin that wasn't his worn hoodie but something crisper, more uniform.
Finally, sight. His eyes opened to blinding white light that slowly resolved into the clean lines of what appeared to be a medical bay. Not the cramped field hospitals he remembered from his deployment, but something sleeker and more advanced.
"Commander's regaining consciousness," a voice said. Female, authoritative.
Commander? The game title? Zaiden tried to sit up, his body responding sluggishly as if he'd been sedated.
"Easy, sir," the same voice cautioned. A woman in a white uniform with blue piping moved into his field of vision. On her collar was an insignia he didn't recognize; a stylized Earth with a single star above it. "You experienced some disorientation during the final jump. Medical protocol required monitoring."
Zaiden's mind raced. This wasn't the neural immersion he was used to from gaming. Those experiences, while vivid, always maintained a subtle digital quality; a certain flatness to sensations, a limit to detail. This was different. He could feel the recycled air against his skin, smell the antiseptic cleanliness of the medical bay, sense the subtle vibration of massive engines through the floor.
"Where..." his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Where am I?"
The woman; a doctor he presumed, exchanged a glance with someone out of his field of vision. Concern flashed across her face.
"You're aboard the UES Pathfinder, sir. Humanity's first deep space exploration vessel." She spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child. "We've just completed our final FTL jump to the Proxima Centauri system."
Proxima Centauri. The first star system targeted for exploration in the game's opening sequence.
"What year is it?" Zaiden asked, his military training kicking in; establish basic parameters first, details later.
Another concerned look from the doctor. "2040, sir. January 17th."
The same day he'd started his gaming session. Whatever had happened, no time had passed... or this reality operated on the same timeline.
"Memory issues are a known side effect of extended FTL travel," came a new voice. A man in his fifties with close-cropped gray hair and the bearing of a career officer stepped into view. "Especially for first timers. Your psych profile didn't flag you as high-risk, but everyone reacts differently."
Zaiden studied the man's uniform it was similar to the doctor's but with a more elaborate insignia. A name badge read "ADMIRAL CHEN."
"The disorientation is temporary," the doctor added, running some kind of scanning device over Zaiden's head. "Your neural patterns are stabilizing. You should be fit for duty within the hour."
Duty. The word triggered something in Zaiden; a soldier's instinctive response to authority. He straightened unconsciously.
"Sir," he addressed the admiral, falling back on military protocol while he processed his situation, "request permission to return to my quarters to recover."
Admiral Chen nodded approvingly. "Granted. But I need you on the bridge in one hour. We're approaching the outer planets of the system, and first survey protocols require the mission commander's presence."
Mission commander. The title from the game again. Somehow, impossibly, he had become the character he was supposed to control.
"Of course, sir," Zaiden replied automatically.
"Your uniform is there," the doctor indicated a neatly folded stack of clothing on a nearby chair. "Once you're dressed, Lieutenant Park will escort you to your quarters."
A young officer waiting by the door nodded at the mention of his name.
Left alone to change, Zaiden moved mechanically, his mind still struggling to process his situation. The uniform fit perfectly; a deep navy blue with silver trim, the same Earth-and-star insignia on the collar. Over the breast pocket was his name: CMDR. Z. LOCKE.
As he fastened the final button, he caught his reflection in a polished panel. The face was his; same features, same tired blue eyes, but something was different. The perpetual tension he carried in his shoulders on Earth was absent. The cynicism set into his eyes had softened.
In this reality, he hadn't yet seen the things that had disillusioned him. Here, he was Commander Locke, leading humanity's first mission beyond the solar system. A fresh start.
Lieutenant Park led him through corridors that hummed with activity. Crew members nodded respectfully as he passed. "Commander," they acknowledged, with none of the wariness or dismissal he'd grown accustomed to as a veteran back on Earth.
His quarters were spacious by spacecraft standards; a private room with a desk, bed, and small sitting area. One wall was a viewing screen currently displaying the star-field outside the ship.
"Voice activated, sir," Park explained, noticing Zaiden's gaze. "You can request any view from the external cameras or switch to information displays."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Zaiden replied, the formality feeling strange on his tongue after years of civilian life.
"The bridge crew will be expecting you in one hour," Park reminded him. "Is there anything else you need, sir?"
Zaiden shook his head, and the lieutenant departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
The moment the door closed, Zaiden's carefully maintained composure cracked. He sank onto the edge of the bed, hands trembling slightly as the reality of his situation crashed over him.
"This isn't possible," he whispered to the empty room.
But the cool air against his skin, the subtle vibration of the ship's engines, the weight of the uniform on his shoulders, it all felt undeniably real.
He stood and approached the view screen. "Show me Earth," he commanded, testing the system.
The display shifted, zooming out from the star-field to reveal a view of the solar system, then focusing on a small blue marble that was unmistakably Earth; now millions of miles behind them.
A strange feeling welled up in Zaiden's chest as he stared at the distant planet; not homesickness, but something closer to relief. Whatever had happened, whatever strange technology or cosmic glitch had brought him here, it had given him something he never thought possible: an escape.
On Earth, he had been trapped; by his past, by his knowledge of the world's ugly truths, by the limited options available to someone who had seen behind society's curtain. Here, in this impossible reality, he was at the forefront of humanity's greatest adventure.
A soft chime interrupted his thoughts. A holographic display appeared above his desk, showing a countdown: 45:00 minutes until his presence was required on the bridge.
Zaiden straightened his uniform and took a deep breath. He had 45 minutes to figure out as much as he could about this reality; about the mission, about his role, about what was expected of him.
"Computer," he said, testing a hunch, "display mission briefing for Proxima Centauri exploration."
The view screen immediately shifted to show technical specifications, crew information, and mission parameters. Zaiden smiled grimly. At least some things worked like they did in games.
He began to read, absorbing information rapidly. The mission was humanity's first venture beyond the solar system, made possible by the recent development of FTL technology. The Pathfinder carried a crew of 250, with scientific, military, and colonial personnel. Their primary objective was to survey the Proxima Centauri system for habitable planets and establish humanity's first extra-solar outpost.
As mission commander, Zaiden occupied a unique position; he reported to Admiral Chen but had operational authority over the expedition's day-to-day activities. He would be the one making first contact if they encountered intelligent life, determining which planets to explore, and establishing priorities for the mission.
It was exactly the premise of Galactic Ascension, but with one critical difference: he wasn't controlling a character on a screen. He was living it.
The countdown reached 10:00 minutes. Zaiden closed the briefing and stood, adjusting his uniform one final time. Whatever strange fate had brought him here, he couldn't deny the opportunity it presented. A chance to leave behind the broken world he'd grown to despise. A chance to shape humanity's future among the stars.
As he left his quarters and made his way toward the bridge, Zaiden felt something he hadn't experienced in years; a sense of purpose... Of possibility.
The corridor ended at a set of doors marked "BRIDGE - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY." Zaiden took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward. The doors slid open.
The bridge of the UES Pathfinder spread before him was a spacious command center with workstations arranged in concentric semicircles facing a massive view-screen. The screen currently displayed a breathtaking view of a red-tinged star, Proxima Centauri, with several planets visible as distant specks.
Activity paused as he entered. Officers turned from their stations, acknowledging his presence with respectful nods.
Admiral Chen stood at the central command station. "Commander Locke," he greeted, "welcome to the bridge. Feeling recovered?"
"Yes, sir," Zaiden replied, stepping forward to take his position. The command console lit up at his approach; displays showing ship status, mission parameters, and sensor readings.
"Excellent," Chen said. "Because you're about to make history." He gestured to the view-screen. "Humanity's first detailed survey of another star system awaits your command."
Zaiden looked out at the alien star and its orbiting worlds; unexplored, unknown, full of possibility. For the first time in years, he felt the corners of his mouth turn upward in a genuine smile.
"Let's begin," he said.