He woke up wheezing and gasping for air. His eyes opened up to a brightness he wasn't ready for. His chest was hurting, and It felt like his head was being shoved into a blender.
He was sure he was dying, and at this point, he was terrified and barely able to think straight.
After taking some deep breaths, Conner noticed he could move an arm and tried to calm down. Deciding to call emergency services for help, he looked for his phone.
'Where's my phone?' he thought. 'My phone isn't on my nightstand. Where is my nightstand!? Wait, My phone's in my pocket. Ok, let's call—what is this thing?!'
In his hand was a weird sci-fi futuristic rectangle that looked like it was pulled from a movie. His brain told me it was a phone, and he didn't think he had time to question it. He just used it, muscle memory telling him how it worked and praying it would work.
"119, what's your emergency?"
"I'm dying, I'm having a heart attack or having a stroke or—" Gasping and wheezing, he barely made out the words before the operator immediately realized it was an emergency.
"Ok, sir. I need you to calm down. Please tell me where you are," they said calmly and soothingly.
"Ivy Sky Hotel, on Highwood Ave., 6th floor, room 13," Ah, that's when he realized he had no clue where he was.
He zoned out of the conversation, pain flaring all over his body. A mess of information and memories that weren't his but somehow was his flew through his head.
A loud noise resounded inside the room. It became too much at some point; overwhelmed by the sensations and memories, his vision got cloudy, and the light dimmed.
Ah, I didn't get to—
————————————————————
'An unfamiliar ceiling. Ah, nope, we're moving. I'm in some ambulance,' Conner thought.
A Different color, technologically advanced, and moving way faster than he thought possible, but he knew for a fact that it was an ambulance after what happened to his head. Having two lifetimes' worth of memories shoved into your brain answers many questions but opens more up.
And all these EMTs were making it hard to think, with all of them moving around and trying to make sure he stayed alive.
'IV bags, the sky outside, a robot-machine thing, an oxygen tank, and a monitor. The straps around me, the pillow on the stretcher I'm laying on, the needle in my arm pumping fluids in my veins, the breathing mask thing on my face. Wheels moving on the ground—' He slowly went through a coping technique in his head to ground himself before thinking about his current situation.
Afterward, he started organizing all the information in his head, still flashing with pain. He found the only conclusion he could come up with, still dealing with the information flowing into his brain when he thinks about specific topics—all the biases and clichés in modern media point towards one answer.
'I've been reincarnated, or I've been transmigrated. I don't know the difference. Of course, thinking about it differently, I might have just possessed my body in a parallel universe because my name is also Conner. His, my ugh, stop—.'
That's when he realized he died. Conner Whitlock died, both of them, in both Earths, or universes, or dimensions. Almost the same way at the same time. Heart failure or maybe a stroke.
'I still don't know. It felt like it was a stroke. But I don't know what a stroke feels like, I've never—.' He started to lose track of his thoughts again, so he took a second to breathe.
The best guess he could come up with was based on unscientific speculation and modern media. A god messed up somehow; the Conners' souls got grabbed, merged, and then split apart and shoved back into their separate bodies, and both Conners are alive.
This would be great, except he never met a godlike entity, and the existence of a god is a whole other thing he just decided never to think about. Not only that, but he has no proof that the other Conner is alive other than the fact that he didn't die.
So there was a chance he was just being overly optimistic, but there was no real explanation, and thinking about it would hurt his head and get him nowhere, so for now, he chose that as an answer and let that train of thought go.
The fact that both Conners are so similar helped him adjust despite the mind-reeling tangents he kept getting lost in. He had no clue how those protagonists from Anime and light novels do this Isekai thing.
Being somewhat of a parallel earth means they're almost the same, so not all the memories from both of them have to be forced into his head. But looking at the 'medical assistant,' it's also pretty apparent that despite being a parallel Earth, there are some massive differences.
That's when the ambulance stopped moving. The door opened, and Conner was dragged out. Some type of ramp was formed as the stretcher was moving. He didn't get a good look at it as Conner was rolled out, but he thought it was silver with glowing blue lines etched into it.
He noticed how bright it was outside as soon as they got out. Seeing the blazing sun, he suddenly realized that he could never guess where his life would go from there.
The Emergency responders were moving fast. For a second, he thought they might slam into the door. Then suddenly, it opened so quickly that he thought we might have run right through it.
They asked him many questions on the ride here, but he felt he could be excused for ignoring them. But when they grabbed his identity card, he immediately zoned back in.
"He's not responding. I'm going through his emergency contact information." The woman who grabbed it spoke, swiped, and sprinted simultaneously.
"Ah, sorry. I—sorry w-what, huh? " The adrenaline rushing throughout his body made it extremely difficult to speak.
"Mr.Whitlock, is there anyone you need to call? You will be being operated on soon." She spoke tersely but with purpose. But he could only focus on that last part.
"Operated?" He could barely be heard over the oxygen mask, so he hoped it hid that hopeful lilt in his voice. Operating already meant they knew what was wrong with him.
"Don't worry; CHF is treatable. It'll take a quick surgery, and you'll be out by the weekend," she replied, still very brief but comforting in a weird way.
Her not smothering and trying her hardest to convince him it's not a big deal made me think it may not be that big a deal. Of course, his heart was still beating incredibly fast; it just slowed down a little.
"Anyone you want me to contact?" Reminding me of the question.
"Ah, anyone, or everyone, you can pick. I don't care. I think my friends are at UTA. And my family is somewhere out of the country." Conner said, using Conner's jumbled-up memories to form a response.
He guessed that his family relationship was also strained in this world.
"UTA? You must be on the field trip for the video game design contest as part of the college design club. You know you shouldn't stop eating and drinking to win this contest. Being alive and present is a great way to show other people your games. Not only that but for kids your age, it's a good way to get big companies to notice them. The winners are usually indy companies that have been in business for a while and have awards under them."
She started talking more. She must have sensed that she had brought up something uncomfortable and was forcibly changing topics.
"I'm not saying take it easy and not try your hardest, but there is no need to risk your life your first time participating. There's always next year."
Her talking about the video design contest caused a flow of memories and emotions to rush to the front of his thoughts. He thought he had all of his memories, but it seemed they were way too much to digest in one sitting. That contest is why Conner was in a hotel room near the Independent City Convention Center. It's also most likely why he died.
They seemed to have everything they needed because they moved to put him under anesthesia. But when he was going under, the emotion and memories running through him caused his lips to move without his permission.
"They'll notice me when I win."
————————————————
Conner noticed he's been passing out a lot since he's been here. With all the moving and running around, he barely even noticed that the doctor said heart failure could be fixed quickly like his heart was a car engine. Nor did he see how quickly he got put into surgery, almost immediately after he got into the hospital.
The first thing he noticed as he got into bed was that there was nothing to watch on TV—no cartoons, sitcoms, movies, or actual television shows—just video game content, let's plays, dance-offs, battle royales, and survival games.
The closest thing to acting they have here is roleplaying stuff on games that weren't familiar but reminded him of the M*necr*ft or R*bl*x roleplays he would see on YouTube. He just put one of those on as background noise while he thought.
The biggest reason he could guess why this happened is that video games were introduced and popularized too early. Technological development rose to meet the demand, introducing consoles, PCs, VR, and AI much earlier.
Because of that, other art forms, such as painting, sculpting, dancing, singing, and acting, were left behind. Programs and tech killed all other art forms.
Professional dancing and singing became competitions judged by an AI based on who could hit what note or move. Professional art is now about who can get an AI to quickly produce the closest match to their vision with minimal prompts. Why care about human hands when an AI can do it just as well and faster?
Video games have become the backbone of all other art forms. Because of that, novels, movies, and acting have died or weren't created. People can make stories with video games and live as characters from fantasies, so why would they read a story about people who don't exist or haven't met? Why would they care about watching a person pretend on screen for an hour and a half?
People don't want to become actors, musicians, or idols. The best way to become famous nowadays is to become a professional gamer, which is a blanket term for getting paid for playing games by gaming companies, the public, or the government. You can do this by winning competitions, getting a contract to beta test a game, or recording yourself being good at playing games.
Of course, he knows what those things could become and how well the industry could do. But for the people here, there's no need to take a risk and try something that strange when they could just try new things in this box they've built and keep raking in money; plus, nails that stick out had a funny way of getting hammered down. Based on their memories, he found many companies that tried to do brand new things didn't succeed and went under, often because of money.
He then started thinking about his release date, Friday, the day before the contest. The contest was simply creating a game to be judged by a panel of judges and the public. This year's theme was mobile games, and Conner put his hat in the ring.
Thinking about why he wanted to participate in it forced more memories into his head, this time from both of the Conners. This time, it was less like recalling a thing that happened and more of a rush of emotions.
He felt inadequate and invisible at home, school, and the world. He wanted to be noticed, looked at, and revered like his big brother. He wanted to be envied, liked, and have the whole world know his name. He wanted his name written down in the history books so that no one could look down, ignore, or forget him.
Conner believed that the best way to achieve that without causing and winning a war, making a fantastic scientific discovery, or making the world a better place was by becoming a celebrity. It was shallow, he knew, but he knew what kind of person he was. He wasn't some genius or master strategist; he was just a little kid with a childish dream of being recognized for his accomplishments.
By the time Conner realized there were other ways of being acknowledged, he had already put in considerable effort and practice.
'Wait, Big Brother?' he thought. That's when Conner went through his memories of his family. All of them were almost exactly the same: the same father, mother, sister, brother, the same names, faces, and personalities. One of the most significant differences was that he wasn't the oldest child of three like here but the middle child instead.
Now that he had memories of being Colt's big brother, being his little brother would be even more difficult than it already was. Plus, now that he remembered Colt, he realized why he didn't just become a professional gamer if he wanted to be famous.
The older Conner fell in love with acting when he was young, absorbing himself in the feeling of becoming someone else. He went to recitals, shows, and plays, practicing hard and staying out late to avoid his family. His little brother Colt copied him and got into acting to get closer to him and close the growing gap between them.
Here, Colt fell in love with games and became a Pro-gamer, becoming proficient in all kinds of games, throwing himself into dangerous situations, testing himself, and pushing his talents to the limits. Conner decided to avoid becoming a pro and only played games for fun. Already used to the feeling of being in his shadow, he chose not to throw himself there.
But, it wasn't just that he was afraid of competing against Colt, though he was; Conner also realized that if he did go into professional gaming, he would have to compete against Colt. Resentment, anger, fear, and all kinds of emotions would explode if he somehow got good enough to confront Colt.
It would ruin their strained relationship, and Conner doesn't know if he wants that. Even if Conner doesn't like Colt, he loves his brother, so he would rather avoid Colt now so he doesn't grow to hate him later.
'Wait, I'm the middle child, right, so I should be...' He got out of bed and looked at the reflective surface. Tan skin, sharp eyebrows, narrow light brown eyes, narrow nose, and curly black hair are combed to the left side. Not insanely handsome but relatively attractive.
But Conner wasn't focused on his looks; he was mainly focused on being 21, so he grabbed his identity card to check. It looked more like a rectangular-shaped chip of metal hanging from his neck, but when he tapped it, bright blue lines appeared, splitting it apart and opening up an electric blue holographic-looking screen. Blue and silver seem to be the colors that health care likes the most. From those streaks of light, it opened up.
Most of the information seemed to be things people like cops and medical professionals would want to know. His identity card confirmed his name, birth date, license, and blood type. Going through his memories confused him about his age. He was not much older or younger on either Earth; he just wanted to help himself get grounded in reality.
He looked around the room and found the clothes he had on when he arrived, hidden in a cubby in the wall, camouflaged to look like the wall. He went through his clothes and found the passkey to his developer's account for the game he was working on.
He slowly sat down and thought carefully about what he would do now. After a few minutes with no ideas, he lied down and stopped thinking about it for a while. When he looked around, he saw that in addition to the TV for entertainment, they also had a tablet on the table next to his bed. Getting on a Steam-like gaming platform called Raid and looking around, he realized that none of the games from his past life were here.
Of course, looking at the reviews of the most popular games, the people here still know how to make good games. So, plagiarism wouldn't let him take the entertainment world by storm. But it seems that maybe because of the butterfly effect, some games that were supposed to be created by now weren't made.
Thinking about games caused all of the Info about games that Conner had been looking up when he was preparing to enter the gaming industry to flow into Conner's head. Industry-wise, from school, or just stuff he found deep diving into the internet. It was so much knowledge at one moment, stuff that he'd been looking up for years, things he'd heard from classmates, even stuff he'd forgotten shoved itself into the forefront of his brain.
It took a minute before it stopped, and his head cleared up. Conner was still laying his head on a pillow, sweating, when he realized he was grinning.
' Hahaha, now that's an idea.'