With my old, more capable pair of legs, the journey from the hospital to my apartment would have taken no more than fifteen minutes. However, burdened by a fracture and a body battered by villains, it now stretched to almost an hour.
I don't have much time left.
Approaching the unimpressive apartment complex, I find solace in the fact that my room occupies the first floor of the three-story building. Navigating the lonely hallway with my crutches, I turn towards my door with tempered expectations.
Shifting my weight on the crutches, I rummage through a plastic bag containing my personal belongings to find the keys and unlock the door. A childish, wistful part of me hopes for a warm welcome from my parents, but reality hits me—a mountain of trash heaps awaits, demanding careful navigation to prevent a disaster.
Wading through what feels like a marsh of garbage, I make my way to the other side of the cramped room. It's embarrassing to admit, but my workstation stands as the sole semblance of organization and aesthetics in my small, single-room apartment.
Without delay, I gingerly transfer my weight from the crutches to my chair, turning towards the desktop computer I left idling. The mechanical keyboard clacks as I start interfacing with the device. The three monitors I have mounted on the wall discards the animated screensaver, and one of them unveils an open program displaying a completed status.
In this moment, the first genuine smile since the harrowing encounter with the loan sharks graces my lips. Everything's in place! Operation Jupiter is a go!
The early 2000s was the advent of the ultimate cyber weapon—Stuxnet. This virus was so well made it even boasted valid digital certificates, which was virtually impossible to procure outside of regulated norms.
Silently infiltrating computers and entire networks, Stuxnet operated in the shadows, eluding detection while wielding the power to manipulate data and settings at will. Its potential for devastation was unparalleled, capable of crippling entire infrastructures and bringing nations to their knees. Picture the sudden blackout of a power grid, plunging an entire country into darkness and bringing the supply chain to a grinding halt.
The primary purpose behind Stuxnet's creation was to undermine Iran's nuclear energy and enrichment program, a blatant violation of international agreements. Though the Iranian government claimed it was for the citizens' welfare, everyone and their grandfather knew it was actually for weapons development.
The mastermind behind the virus you ask? It was none other than the United States' government and its allies—pooling their money and resources to engineer the most potent digital weapon ever conceived.
However, there was one thing they didn't consider: once anything finds its way onto the web, it becomes a permanent resident, and the internet, in its democratic nature, ensures that any piece of information available online is accessible to everyone, everywhere, indefinitely, often free of charge.
Consequently, thousands worldwide were able to get their hands on the Stuxnet code. And they immediately began taking it apart and tinkering with it; tailoring it to meet their own agendas.
As one might expect, I joined the ranks of those individuals, giving birth to Jupiter—the ultimate gaming hack. While it may pale in comparison to the cutting-edge cyber weapon, Nitro Zeus, it should suffice for the task at hand.
With a smile of anticipation, I crane my head to follow the cables that tether my CPU to the human-sized capsule taking up a considerable amount of real estate in my match box of a room.
I firmly believe that the opportune moment to deploy the hack into the game's server is during the beta testing phase when the security measures are not yet fully integrated. I initiated the overnight transfer of Jupiter's source code to the Nexusphere's highly encrypted internal hard drive.
As the capsule boots up and engages with Zenith's hardware, Jupiter, as per its design, is meant to inconspicuously tunnel into their servers, exercising extreme discretion to practically vanish from the AI's and the firewall's detection. At least, that's the theory.
Ideally, I shouldn't be putting all my eggs in one basket, but if this plan fails, there are no extra lives; China will rip me a new one—and that's assuming the loan sharks don't get to me first.
I swallow hard as I consider the repercussions of my illegal pursuit, but it's too late to turn back now. In an attempt to reignite my motivation, my gaze instinctively falls upon the small picture frame perched on the corner of my desk.
Captured within the embrace of the great outdoors is an attractive Asian woman and a handsome, light-skinned man with an impressive physique. They are my parents, and I am determined not to squander the life they so lovingly bestowed upon me.
The computer monitor registers 5:50 p.m. A mere five minutes stand between me and the imminent, life-altering moment.
Minding my leg, I carefully reach for my crutches and awkwardly make my way into the capsule I endangered my life to buy with dirty money.
The Nexusphere envelops me with a sensory embrace, boasting a range of features that transform the small, cylindrical space into a haven.
The advanced air conditioning creates a cocoon of comfort, while the state-of-the-art AR monitor immerses me in a visual spectacle. A built-in smart device meticulously monitors my vitals, ensuring a seamless integration of technology and well-being.
"Initialize," I command once comfortably settled.
Responding to the voice command, the Nexusphere responds with a gradual sealing of the hatch door. The interior radiates a gentle glow, the air conditioning hums, and a holographic display materializes before my eyes as the machine performs a rapid diagnostic check.
Embedded with an intricate network of sensors strategically focused around my head, the Nexusphere initiates a wireless probing that mirrors the eerie sensation of being watched from afar.
Suddenly, the once-stable Nexusphere plunges into chaos—the ambient light fades in and out, the projected screen flickers incessantly, and the cooling breeze of the AC succumbs to stillness.
I feel myself getting disconnected—physically and mentally. I've never Dived before, but an unsettling intuition informs me that something is terribly and unquestionably wrong.
Did Jupiter fry the Nexusphere's mainframe? Was the hack detected by the Zenith Cooperation in the process of trying to infiltrate their servers? Are these the reverberations of either one of those scenarios?
I can hear the warning bells going off in the capsule as my vitals go ballistic, but there's nothing I can do. The alarms gradually grow dull. My senses fade as they are intercepted by the Nexusphere and rerouted into the virtual world.
Suddenly, my senses are thrust back into awareness. A sequence of sensations—warmth, followed by freezing cold—engulfs me in a disorienting darkness. Panic sets in as my attempts to breathe are met with resistance.
I try looking around, but my eyes are heavy, my body uncooperative. I try to scream, to call for help, but ended up with a lungful of water instead. From the depths, an imposing force clutches both sides of my torso.
Powerless, I brace for an ominous fate.
WHOOSH!
Water cascades from my body as I'm lifted from a water-filled bathtub. Recoiling from a bout of coughing and regaining my breath, my eyes snap open, a mix of dread and confusion enveloping me. I'm reminded of a stunned Simba from The Lion King, held aloft by Rafiki before the animals of the Pride Lands.
Automatically drawn to the dark figure cradling me, my eyes catch the full moon piercing through billowing clouds, illuminating the weary yet smiling face of a woman.
A flurry of questions floods my mind: Where am I? Who is she? And how can she be lifting me so effortlessly when I'm a twenty-three-year-old dude?
I look down to assess my body, only to find a pudgy pair of hands, legs, and an umbilical cord. Wait. WHAT?!