Alex leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes as he stared at the thick stack of manuscript pages on his desk. Thanks to the hours he had spent typing code and dialogue for Zelda, his fingers moved fast—faster than most adults, let alone a boy his age. But the real reason he could work at this pace was the strange strength in his mind, a strength he still didn't fully understand.
When he had first woken up after the accident, he had barely known who he was. His head had felt crowded, as if someone had forced an entire library into his brain overnight. Memories—some his, some clearly not—pressed together in a confusing tangle. From what he had been able to piece together, all of it came from the Cognitive Amplifier, a device from a future so distant it hardly seemed real.
He still had no idea why he, of all people, had received this knowledge. Was he the only one? That didn't seem likely, but calculating the odds gave him no comfort. His best theory was that something in the future had caused the Amplifier to reach backward through time. Somehow, in that impossible leap, it had locked onto his brain waves and turned him into its new storage vault.
But his brain couldn't handle everything at once. Whoever had designed the Amplifier had clearly anticipated that. A safeguard had been built into it: the information remained sealed behind mental barriers, unlocking slowly, bit by bit, only when his mind was ready. It was the only reason he hadn't lost himself in the flood of foreign memories and unfamiliar skills. Without that protection, he might have forgotten who "Alex" even was.
"Ugh… my head is really starting to hurt," he muttered.
Stuart, who had been lying at the edge of the table, lifted her small black head and blinked at him.
"Ah, sorry for rambling, girl," Alex said with a tired smile as he picked her up and settled her on his lap. He stroked her silky fur, and she answered with a soft, steady purr. The sound eased the tightness in his chest, grounding him more effectively than any breathing exercise ever had.
These episodes of overthinking had been happening more often lately. Alex suspected they came from several sources. Part of it was his fear of regressing back into his old mental struggles. Another part was his lingering difficulty with focus—the way his thoughts still drifted, jumping from one idea to another without warning. Even now, concentrating on a single task for too long felt like trying to hold water in his hands.
And then there was the uncertainty.
He didn't know how the knowledge had entered his mind. And not knowing made everything feel fragile, like waking from a beautiful dream and realizing it might fade at any moment.
Stuart's purring slowly steadied his breathing. He let his thoughts settle, one layer at a time, until the fog in his head began to thin.
He already had a five-year plan for the game studio—practical goals, realistic steps, and enough flexibility to adapt if something unexpected happened. He refused to rely entirely on his future knowledge. Ironically, the very thing that made him so capable was also the most unreliable tool he had. Ever since he had woken from the coma, the future had begun to shift. The changes were small at first, but they were happening, quietly and steadily, altering what lay ahead.
Anything he did based on that knowledge could backfire. Events that were supposed to happen might never occur—or might happen far earlier than expected, or unfold in completely different ways. Still, he believed that certain major events were fixed, anchors in time that would come no matter what.
That was why he had to stay flexible. Adapt quickly. Think quickly. Move even faster.
For now, all he could do was watch how things unfolded and shape what he could. Whatever future awaited him… it would be one he built himself.
A sudden knock broke the silence.
"Alex, you in there? Can I come in?" Duke's voice called from behind the door.
Alex turned in his chair. Stuart's ears perked up as well.
"Yeah, come in," Alex replied.
At the same time, Stuart leapt from his lap and padded toward the door. It opened to reveal Duke standing in the doorway. The cat immediately rubbed against his leg before slipping past him into the hallway.
"What, you still up in here?" Duke asked casually, glancing around the room. His eyes landed on the typewriter on Alex's desk.
"I'm writing a book about dinosaurs," Alex said with a shrug.
"Oh, that's interesting," Duke replied with a small smile. "I'll want to read it when you're done. Anyway, Mom and Dad said we're eating out tonight, so go wash up."
"Oh, okay. I'll go take a shower," Alex said, nodding as he stood from his chair.
"Oh—and tell Ashley and Jennifer too," Duke added before turning and closing the door behind him.
Alex stood there for a moment, staring at the door with a puzzled frown.
Why do I always get stuck with that job? he thought.
Ashley's Room
Ashley stood in front of her vanity mirror, lips pulled back in a grimace that looked more like a snarl than a smile. The overhead bulb glinted off the fresh metal brackets glued to every tooth. She tilted her head left, then right, watching the light dance across the wires like tiny prison bars.
"Eighteen months," she muttered. "Eighteen months of looking like a train wreck."
On the dresser sat the orthodontic starter pack: floss threaders that looked like plastic needles, a water flosser the size of a walkie-talkie, wax pellets in a little tin, and a rainbow of tiny rubber bands she was apparently supposed to change daily. She picked up the interdental brush—bright purple, bristly, ridiculous—and poked experimentally under the archwire. A sharp twinge shot through her gum.
"Ow. Great. Just great."
She sighed, shoulders sagging. Ashley had never been the twin who cared what people thought—she left that to Jennifer—but tomorrow was the first day the neighborhood kids would see her like this. She pictured the boys at the pool, the girls from dance class. The jokes were already writing themselves.
Yet beneath the irritation simmered something softer: relief that the crooked canine she'd hidden for years was finally being dragged into line. And a tiny, secret spark of amusement that her parents—her parents—were rocking the exact same metal smile. She caught her reflection again and, despite everything, the corner of her mouth twitched upward. The braces flashed like cheap jewelry.
"Whatever," she whispered, turning off the light. "They'll get used to it. I'll get used to it."
Jennifer's Room
Across the hall, Jennifer lay curled under a fortress of blankets, only the crown of her blonde hair visible. The glow from her bedside clock painted the cocoon faint red. She had burrowed in right after lunch and hadn't come out since.
She wasn't angry like Ashley. She was scared.
Jennifer was the social one—the twin with the easy laugh, the packed birthday parties, the phone that never stopped ringing. Before Alex's accident, she'd been the sun everyone orbited. After the crash, guilt had swallowed her whole. She'd been on that bike path too that day, daring him to race, shouting "Bet you can't beat me!" when the truck rounded the bend. For months she'd barely spoken above a whisper, terrified her friends would see the blame she carried like a second skin.
Alex never let her drown in it. He showed up every day—bandaged, bruised, grinning through the pain—bringing comic books, terrible jokes, and quiet company. Slowly, the old Jennifer had started peeking out again: first a real smile, then a laugh, then whole afternoons spent sprawled on the carpet playing Mario Bros. on the NES prototype he'd "borrowed" from the garage.
But braces felt like a giant step backward. What if everyone stared? What if the mean girls at school decided this was the perfect ammunition? What if she froze up again and the words stuck behind the metal?
A soft knock sounded at her door.
"Hey, Jen?" Alex's voice, low so he wouldn't wake the house. "You alive under there?"
The blanket mound shifted. One golden eye appeared in the gap.
"I look like a cyborg," she croaked.
Alex slipped inside, closing the door with a quiet click. He crossed the room in three steps and sat on the edge of her bed. Moonlight through the curtains caught the concern in his eyes.
"You look like my sister," he said simply. "Same as always."
Jennifer sniffed. "Easy for you to say. You didn't get sentenced to a year and a half of robot mouth."
He shrugged. "Dad's got them too now. And Mom. We're officially the dorkiest family on the block. Matching metal smiles—very suburbs."
That earned a tiny, reluctant laugh. She pushed the blanket down to her chin, revealing the silver glint of her braces when she smiled.
"It gonna suck," she whispered.
"Maybe a little," Alex admitted. "But you've already survived worse. And you won't be alone—Ashley's right there with you, scowling at the world. And I'll be at school too, ready to throw hands if anyone says anything stupid."
Jennifer studied him for a long moment, then reached out and flicked his forehead—gentle, sisterly.
"We're not even going to the same school," she said, but her voice was warmer now.
"It's thought that counts." He grinned. "Oh, right almost forgot mum and said will eat out today for dinner so get ready," Alex said recalling why he came to Jennifer room.
She pulled the blanket back up, but this time only to her nose. "Alright,"
He left as quietly as he'd come. In the hallway, he paused, listening to the soft rustle of blankets settling, the house breathing around him.
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Several Minutes Later
Everyone got into the back of brand new Ford stations wagon, which his parents had bought for daily use. Since their father had gotten himself a Toyota Hilux 4-door utility mainly for work purposes, trading in his old Landcruise.
Everyone chatted happily during the drive, with Ashley and Jennifer slowly getting over the shame in having braces. They soon arrived at a small local dinner, everyone quickly took their seats as the six of them looking at the menu.
" So, Alex, " Oliver began not looking away from the menu, " in another month your be officially starting are you nervous? "
Alex glance at his father and everyone else at the table, who also waited eagerly at for his answer. " Not, really but I won't slack in my educational journey. " He replied simply with a shrug, before turning his attention back to the menu.
Everyone remained silent glancing at each other, " Well, that's good that you're not nervous, and we're all glad that you're going to take school seriously. " Oliver said simply as if putting the matter to rest there.
Martha looked at her husband with slight annoyance at just how casual he was take the whole. Sensing something a miss Oliver discreetly glance over to his right only to find his wife giving him a annoyed look for some reason.
Meanwhile, Alex thought were quite simple he had no plans at going to college, hence he simply needed to fish middle school and school. Which was as easy as stealing candy from a baby with all the advice knowledge he had in various fields of study.
Soon everyone ordered their meals and became eating happily, Martha eagerly asked Alex if he was excited to make new friends and what he was going to be be learning.
Which he answered each question simply with very little enthusiasm in the matter. It was only when the question shifted to the game studio that Alex became more active in the conversation.
And how he and the others planned to balance school and the game studio. Which they'd already discussed before, with everyone.
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September 8th, 1985
Alex stood in front of the mirror, studying himself from head to toe. It was his first day at a new school. He wanted to say he wasn't nervous—but that would've been a lie.
He took a slow breath in, then exhaled through his nose. You've handled worse, he told himself.
Without giving himself time to hesitate, he grabbed his backpack and stepped out of his room. The smell of toast and coffee drifted up from downstairs, mixing with the low hum of morning conversation.
"You finally got everything you need?" his mother asked as he entered the kitchen, rummaging through her purse for her keys.
"Yes, I'm all set," Alex replied, adjusting the straps on his backpack.
"Here."
Duke appeared beside him and shoved a packed lunch lightly against his chest. "Don't forget your lunch."
He ruffled Alex's hair roughly before stepping away.
"Ah—thanks," Alex muttered, fixing his hair and slipping the wrapped lunch into his bag.
He glanced toward the staircase just as his father came down, dressed casually in safety boots, grey work pants, a black T-shirt, and a grey jacket.
"Everyone ready to leave?" Oliver asked, glancing around.
"Just waiting for the girls to come down," Martha answered before leaning up to kiss him.
Duke and Alex recoiled in exaggerated disgust.
"Girls! Get down here, it's time to go!" Martha shouted toward the second floor.
"Coming!" came the hurried reply, followed by the sound of quick footsteps.
"Oh, Thomas called," Martha added, turning back to Oliver. "He found an apartment property in good condition. He wants us to check it out sometime."
"That's good," Oliver replied thoughtfully.
Ashley and Jennifer finally came down the stairs—wearing nearly identical outfits, the only difference being the color of their jackets. Both wore matching expressions of irritation.
"You two matching?" Oliver asked with a teasing smile.
"Not now, Dad," they answered in unison, voices slightly raised.
Oliver blinked, clearly confused. Alex, Duke, and Martha exchanged amused looks, shaking their heads.
"Okay…" Oliver said cautiously before turning back to his wife. "I'll call Thomas when I get to work and schedule a time to view the property."
"Meow."
Everyone turned at the sound.
Stuart padded into the hallway and immediately wound herself around Alex's legs, clearly expecting to be included in the morning routine.
Alex scooped her up and gently scratched behind her ears. She purred loudly against his chest.
"That reminds me," Alex said, glancing at his parents. "Can we get another cat? Or maybe even a dog—to keep Stuart company during the day?"
Martha paused.
It wasn't a bad idea.
She still remembered how Stuart had gone missing several times during Alex's coma. How the cat had cried and searched their old apartment for him before disappearing entirely for four months. The memory still tugged at her heart.
It had been proof enough that animals felt more than people gave them credit for.
"That's actually not a bad idea," Martha admitted softly. "We can talk more about it when we get back, okay?"
Alex smiled. "Okay."
He carried Stuart into the kitchen and gently set her down.
"What do you think?" Martha asked her husband quietly.
"I think it's a great idea," Oliver said. "Especially after what happened last time."
Duke, Jennifer, and Ashley visibly perked up at the suggestion—something their parents definitely noticed.
"Alright, calm down," Martha laughed. "It's time to go."
She ushered everyone toward the door as Alex returned from the kitchen. Oliver waited until everyone stepped outside before locking up behind them.
Moments later, the family split between vehicles.
Alex climbed into his father's car since his new school was on the same route as Oliver's job site. Martha loaded the others into her car, heading in the opposite direction.
As the engine started and the house grew smaller in the rearview mirror, Alex rested his head lightly against the window.
He just hoped it would go better than the last time.
The drive felt shorter than it should have.
Oliver kept the radio low, some soft rock song playing beneath the steady hum of the engine. The morning air carried that crisp early-September bite, not quite autumn yet—but close.
"You'll do fine," Oliver said without looking over. Not forced. Not dramatic. Just certain.
Alex nodded.
"I know."
And this time… he meant it.
The school came into view a few minutes later.
It wasn't enormous, but to Alex it might as well have been castle. A wide brick building with long rows of rectangular windows. A faded sign out front read:
Riverside Elementary School
Kids flooded the sidewalks and front lawn. Backpacks hung low on shoulders. Some carried metal lunchboxes with cartoon characters printed on them. A few boys wore denim jackets covered in stitched patches. High socks. Bright sneakers. One kid even had a Walkman clipped to his belt, foam headphones resting over his ears like he owned the world.
Girls wore oversized sweaters, leggings, scrunchies, and colorful plastic bangles that clicked together when they moved. Feathered bangs. Side ponytails. Neon windbreakers that practically glowed under the morning sun.
Everything felt loud.
Not just the sound—but the movement. The color. The energy.
Oliver parked along the curb.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
"You want me to walk you in?" his father asked.
Alex shook his head. He tightened his grip on his backpack straps.
"I can do it."
Oliver studied him for half a second—measuring, not doubting. Then he nodded.
"Alright. I'll pick you up at three."
Alex opened the door and stepped out.
The noise hit him first.
Laughter. Sneakers squeaking against pavement. The metallic slam of lockers from inside the building. Teachers calling out greetings.
He stood there for just a moment longer than necessary taking everything in.
Last year—before the accident—this would've overwhelmed him. The noise. The unpredictability. The way everything moved too fast.
Back then, words sometimes felt slippery in his mouth. Thoughts tangled together before he could get them out properly. Kids had noticed. Kids always noticed.
But that was before. Before the accident. Before waking up different.
Before his mind stopped feeling like a maze.
He inhaled slowly.
Then stepped forward.
Inside, the hallway smelled faintly of floor polish and pencil shavings.
Rows of beige lockers lined the walls. They weren't tall like high school ones—just small square compartments stacked in columns. A few were already plastered with stickers: Pac-Man, Transformers, baseball team logos.
A teacher stood near the entrance holding a clipboard.
She wore a floral blouse tucked into a long skirt and oversized glasses with thick brown frames.
"Good morning!" she called warmly. "Class lists are posted by homeroom numbers. Find your name and head to your classroom."
Alex approached the bulletin board.
The paper trembled slightly under his fingers—not from fear, just awareness.
He scanned the list.
Not slowly. His eyes moving down the column.
Williams, Alex — Room 12. Mrs. Donnelly.
He turned toward Room 12.
The classroom door was open.
Inside, desks were arranged in neat rows. Each desk had a name tag taped to the top. Construction paper apples decorated the walls. There was a chalkboard at the front with Welcome Back! written in looping white letters.
Mrs. Donnelly stood near her desk, greeting students as they entered.
She looked to be in her early forties, with short curled hair and kind eyes that crinkled when she smiled.
"And you must be new," she said gently when Alex stepped inside. " Wow, you have very pretty eyes what's your name? "
"Thank you, ma'am. I'm Alexander Williams but everyone just call me Alex. " His voice came out steady.
She quickly checked her list to confirm he was in her class. " Ok, there it is. Alexander Williams. Welcome to Riverside."
"Thank you."
A few kids glanced up at him.
Not cruel.
Just curious.
New kid.
He walked between the desks, aware of their eyes. A boy with freckles gave him a small nod. A girl with bright pink scrunchie hairbands whispered something to her friend.
He found his seat—third row from the front, near the window.
He sat down carefully.
The chair scraped lightly against the tile.
Around him, conversations buzzed.
"My cousin got a Nintendo—"
"My dad says the Mets are gonna take it this year—"
"I watched Knight Rider last night—"
Ordinary kid stuff.
Alex folded his hands on his desk and stared at the chalkboard for a moment.
He remembered sitting in a different classroom years ago.
Remembered not understanding why letters sometimes blurred together.
Remembered the frustration.
The embarrassment.
The way other kids learned faster.
Now the words on the board were crisp.
Each letter perfect.
Each thought in his head sharp and organized.
It felt like someone had cleaned a foggy window inside his mind.
Mrs. Donnelly clapped her hands lightly.
"Alright, class, let's settle down."
Chairs shifted. Voices lowered.
Alex straightened in his seat.
"Before we begin," she said, smiling, "we have a new student joining us today. Alex, would you like to stand and tell everyone a little about yourself?"
The room turned toward him.
Thirty faces.
Waiting.
A year ago, this moment would've frozen him.
Now—
He stood.
"My name's Alex. I just moved here with my family. I like reading... and building thanks. And I'm looking forward to being here." Simple honest.
Mrs. Donnelly beamed. "We're glad to have you."
A few kids nodded. The freckled boy gave him a quick thumbs up.
Alex sat back down slowly with a smile. Hopefully I find a few exceptional kids here for the game studio. Alex thought to himself whether it was possible find and bring kids around to help out here at school didn't really matter at the moment.
Since Zelda had long since hit the shelves and the first check was about to his parents bank account. It would be the right time to find a couple of individuals to join the studio to speed up game development.
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