9:45 PM.
The entire office was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow emanating from a single computer screen. The clatter of keystrokes echoed through the room. Luis hunched over, furiously typing the final lines of text before sending them to his boss. His bloodshot, dark-circled eyes were glued to the monitor. He hadn't slept in three days. This project was too critical for him and for the company. He didn't allow himself a moment's rest.
"Phew! Done!"
Luis reached for the coffee cup beside him, downed it in one gulp, and tossed it into the overflowing trash can, piled high with empty Starbucks cups and McDonald's containers. The company had given him this one final chance, and he knew it was also the company's last shot before the creditors came knocking. From the beginning, he was one of the key employees, standing by his superiors and steering the company through its toughest times. But he learned his name was on HR's layoff consideration list a month ago. Though it wasn't official, he knew the rumor was true. The company's finances had been in dire straits since the start of the year. Two rounds of layoffs had already seen over two hundred employees let go, and now even the core team was on the chopping block.
Luis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his weary, bloodshot eyes. He knew his health was at its breaking point. Since the COVID-19 pandemic in 2019, his overall well-being had plummeted. The warning signs of a stroke were becoming unmistakable. But he couldn't afford to rest. The economy was brutal, and while finding a new job wasn't impossible for him, securing one that could cover his monthly bills and the mortgage was no easy feat.
He unlocked his phone to check his messages. Seeing his wife's text on Messenger, he let out a heavy sigh: "Dad's hospital bills were denied by insurance. Figure out how to handle it!" He didn't reply. He scrolled through his contacts, then powered off the phone and slumped onto the desk. If only his life had a switch to temporarily shut down, like these computers that got to rest. But not him. His thoughts drifted.
Yet, with his mind weighed down by endless worries, he couldn't sit still. Luis reached into a drawer and pulled out an old, clunky Game Boy. If he sold this relic, it might fetch a decent price—it was a limited-edition first model, still in working condition. It was a gift from his father when he was eleven. He had a habit of losing himself in these games to escape exhaustion and reality. But now, even the time for such escapes was running out.
He'd once given the Game Boy to his son, but the boy wasn't interested. Times had changed, and so had people. Flashy, feature-packed, and pricier consoles like the PS5 and Nintendo Switch had replaced this antique. So, Luis kept the Game Boy, a memento to revisit a brighter childhood.
Grabbing his bag of medication and searching for something to eat, he shuffled out of the building, disheveled and reeking faintly of sweat.
Amid the glittering city streets, awash in neon lights and bustling with people, he felt like he didn't belong. Passersby seemed to steer clear, perhaps fearing that a mere brush against him might cause him to collapse dead. But not everyone was so cautious. A man in dark clothing barreled into him from behind. Luis stumbled but didn't fall. He was about to curse when the man sprinted off. At the same time, a woman's screams rang out, chasing after him. Luis guessed she'd been robbed by the homeless-looking guy. He checked himself to see if anything was stolen, then realized the Game Boy in his pocket was gone. Panicked, he scanned the surroundings for his precious relic.
The thief hadn't taken it. The device had merely fallen out of his pocket and lay lifeless on the street corner.
"Even you want to abandon me, huh?" he thought.
Picking up the Game Boy and its scattered batteries, he reassembled it and gave it a gentle tap. He sighed in relief—the screen flickered to life. He didn't notice the faint sound of a short circuit inside. Carefully tucking the relic into his pocket, he trudged toward the nearby McDonald's.
Emerging from the restaurant with a bag of food, he found a quiet street corner, sat down, and began to eat. As he did, he powered on the Game Boy, his fingers moving instinctively over the worn, familiar buttons. Without thinking, he launched a game he'd played for thousands of hours: Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town.
As a child, he'd dreamed of owning a farm, planting crops, and raising animals to his heart's content. Now, more than ever, he longed to escape this suffocating, responsibility-laden society.
His save file was still there, but he couldn't recall what he was supposed to do in the game. So, he decided to start anew. It had been a while, and his memory of the game was fuzzy. But with a game like this—repetitive daily tasks cycling through seasons and years—picking up the gameplay again was easy enough.
He sat there for thirty minutes before his eyes grew blurry and his hands ached. He was getting old, too tired even to play games. The past few days had drained him completely. Now, even staring at the Game Boy's tiny screen felt like a monumental challenge.
Luis stood, stretched, and began the slow walk home…
He couldn't recall how long he walked or which streets he passed through. This route, traveled for twelve years, had become second nature—no need to pay attention. All he remembered was the final moment: two blinding headlights bearing down on him, accompanied by deafening honks.
"Straight out of a Japanese isekai anime, huh? Well, fine. Time to rest!!!" The thought flashed through his mind. Then everything went black.
***
Luis stood in an all-encompassing void. The only things he could see were himself and a line of text floating before him: Any wish?
A thought sparked in his mind. As if by magic, it appeared beneath the question:
Just turn it off.