Zoe blinked awake as her phone buzzed with notifications. She swatted it off the couch without looking. DashGrub coupons, spam texts, weather alerts, nothing important.
Her eyes cracked open. 12:13 PM.
'Oops. Missed the whole morning again.'
She groaned, pulling a blanket over her head. Today wasn't for the real world. Today was for Zoeshon. She'd crashed on the couch again, no surprise there.
From her desk, the radio hummed with life, tuned to Mix 98.9 FM. Jana's voice drifted through the room, cheerful and way too peppy for the early afternoon.
"Good afternoon, Mahoning Valley! Hope you're staying cool out there—it's hitting the low 80s. We've got some... strange news today, but more on that after this next song. Here's one for the classics lovers: Take on Me."
Synth beats flowed into the room like goldfish gliding into a bowl. Zoe sighed dramatically, rolling out of bed and heading for the bathroom.
A quick splash of water and a glance in the mirror told her what she already knew. Messy bun, rumpled hoodie, and pajama pants. Perfect for gaming.
Back in high school, while everyone else stressed over homework and college applications, Zoe stumbled across something that would set her up for life: Bitcoin.
At the time, it was just a weird digital currency that only nerds on forums talked about. Curious, and always on the lookout for an easy win, she threw some allowance money into it. It felt like a small gamble, nothing serious.
Turns out, that lazy decision became her golden ticket.
When Bitcoin's value exploded, Zoe cashed out at the perfect moment. She didn't make billions, but it was more than enough to live comfortably, game all day, and pay for cleaning services and food delivery.
In Zoe's book, life was better when it was easy.
When her mom kicked her out at eighteen, not in anger, just ready for a long-overdue vacation, Zoe made sure Ruthie was set for life. Then she used her Bitcoin fortune to pay ten years' rent upfront for two top-floor apartments at Riverview.
She combined the units into one big space because, why not?
To her surprise, the building owners loved what she'd done. Now Zoe had a three-room flat with plenty of space to hoard snacks and junk. She even kept a guest room and kitchen ready for Momma whenever she decided to visit.
She slouched into her desk chair, fired up her PC setup, and grinned as her monitors blinked to life.
The familiar world of Creature Craze Online welcomed her back.
Her mind shifted. This wasn't lazy Zoe time anymore. This was Zoeshon's domain now.
Zoeshon leaned back into her chair, feeling the rhythm settle. Her fingers danced across the keys, queuing spells and buffs like she was conducting a symphony of destruction. The guild chat buzzed.
Dark_Lord_42: "Afternoon, Zoeshon. Thought we lost you to an all-day nap."
She smirked, knowing exactly how to play this. "Bite me, Dark. I can raid circles around you half-asleep."
Dark_Lord_42: "More like snack circles."
She laughed, popping a stale donut into her mouth and typing one-handed. "Lucky for you, I'm not putting you on front line duty. Rhetorical questions cost gold."
Her rhythm was perfect, until the weird notification from earlier floated onto her screen like an uninvited guest.
[You have been chosen.]
What happened before her nap came crashing back. Gary Rivers interrupting Hotel California, monsters appearing, and something about Thread... Weavers? And now this popup.
She scowled, clicking furiously. Nothing. Task Manager? Nada. The damn thing wouldn't budge.
'What the hell is this?'
Zoeshon loaded up her virus scanner, but it came up with nothing.
"Seriously?" Her eye twitched.
As the useless scan finished, Dark_Lord_42 pinged again.
Dark_Lord_42: "Yo, Zoeshon, you good? Or are you stuck fighting a real world boss?"
Zoeshon snickered, rolling her shoulders like she was limbering up for a final-phase raid. "Give me five minutes, Dark. Boss fight's in Task Manager."
Zoeshon shook her nonexistent sleeves out of her way, time to take this thing down. She opened Task Manager like a raid strategist surveying the battlefield, scanning processes with the kind of intensity reserved for world-first clears.
"Let's see... LOOM.exe, there you go, nope. Service Handler? Get outta here." Processes blinked away one by one under her assault. Nothing stuck.
Her mouse stuttered for a fraction of a second, and Zoeshon's jaw tightened. Code Crusher does not lag! 'Okay. So, you're one of those bosses. Cute.'
The radio crackled from the corner of her desk. Jana's upbeat tone shifted, her voice serious now.
"...emergency reports of a new monster shard. Authorities are closing off Packard Park. Residents are advised to stay indoors while..."
Zoeshon gave an irritated wave toward the radio, like she was shooing away an annoying fly. She had more important things to do than listen to doomsday news.
Back to work.
This Loom app wasn't playing fair, it re-spawned itself under different names every time she shut a process down: LOOM_TASK, The_Chosen, DESTINY.exe.
'Persistent little bugger aren't you?'
Her AC sputtered, blowing a puff of warm air through the vents. Zoeshon's eyes flicked to it for half a second.
'Noted.'
Moving on.
With a smirk creeping across her face, Zoeshon toggled her Malware Chomps settings. Time to pin this sucker dog down.
But just as she went for the kill, Malware Chomps threw up a betrayal screen.
"Update now?" YES / NO.
She hit NO like a tank interrupting a one-shot ability,
The Loom doubled down, spawning twice the processes. They were popping up like popcorn!
"Okay, now it's personal."
Her soda fizzed ominously as she spammed ALT+F4, fury clicking with the precision of a gamer in a last-phase raid. Still nothing.
The Loom floated smugly on her screen, like a boss refusing to transition to its final form.
Then her browser flickered open, unbidden.
A headline filled her screen:
"Chosen Heroes? Threadweavers Speak Out!"
"Not reading lore!" she snapped, slamming the tab shut.
There had to be a way to win, she was Zoeshon, the CCO goddess, for crying out loud.
She sat back, tapping the side of her mouse, her mind cycling through every raid tactic she knew. Her gaze flicked across the screen,
And there it was.
The tiny minimize button, winking at her as though it knew a secret.
"Ah-ha," Zoeshon whispered, grinning like a boss spotting a weak point. With one deliberate click, all notifications shrunk into the taskbar, temporarily defeated.
She leaned back, satisfied, grabbing her soda like it was a victory trophy. "There. Future Zoe will handle it."
Her AC coughed weakly but kicked back to life, sending a thin stream of cold air through the vents. It should be replaced. No big deal.
The game was waiting, and her Magma Drake was ready to turn minions to ash.
The world could fall apart for all she cared.
That was Future Zoe's problem.
Zoeshon leaned back, letting the steady rhythm of the raid grind lull her into that perfect zone, farming XP, popping buffs, and queuing abilities with the effortless grace of a goddess.
She barely noticed the background chatter from Mix 98.9, Jana's bubbly voice mixing with 80s hits on low volume, like white noise for her soul. She hummed along between bites of chips, savoring the calm.
"Here Comes the Rain Again" by Eurythmics started playing, setting the perfect vibe for AFK farming. Her Magma Drake crisped another wave of minions with a satisfying burst of fire.
The radio clicked back to Jana's voice.
"...and remember to grab those umbrellas, Mahoning Valley! Small chance of afternoon showers, but hey, it'll cool things off a bit."
Zoeshon didn't even flinch. Click. Buff. Click. Farm. The game hummed along, smooth and satisfying. This was her zen, the kind of perfect downtime she lived for. No distractions. No drama. Just her, her minions, and her unstoppable grind,
Until it wasn't.
It started subtle, like that annoying part of an eye exam where the letters just won't come into focus.
She ignored it. Just a monitor glitch, maybe. Something hanging on the edge of her vision like a visual bug.
"Visual bug? Figures," she muttered. Without missing a beat, she stretched out her fingers, limbering her knuckles like she was warming up for a final-phase raid. Back to farming.
But the weird shape didn't go away. It hovered persistently, growing sharper with every passing second.
'Nah,' she thought. Not my problem. She dismissed it, focused entirely on her Drake frying another cluster of enemies.
Then it snapped into view, clear, solid, and impossible to ignore.
A glowing set of bracketed text floated a solid foot from her face. Transparent enough to see through, but just opaque enough to block her game.
It was like the worst kind of HUD overlay, the sort designed by devs who hate players.
[You have been chosen.]
Zoeshon's fingers froze mid-click.
'Nope.' She swatted at it, like she was shooing a fly buzzing too close to her soda.
The text bobbled calmly out of reach, then floated right back into position, smug as a glitchy UI element.
"Ugh. What is this?" She swiped again, harder this time, but the brackets barely wobbled.
The AC sputtered, letting out a sad wheeze before falling silent. She should replace it soon. Zoe shot a quick glance at the vent.
'Noted.'
She moved on.
The brackets stayed, flickering slightly but holding their ground. She glared at it, her blood seething in her face.
And then it hit her.
Not in the fun way, like an epic loot drop. No, this was the ice bucket challenge version of a wake-up call, slamming into her system and leaving her stunned and dripping with disbelief.
Zoeshon faded away, leaving Zoe sitting there, staring at the brackets like someone just slapped a homework assignment on her desk in the middle of summer vacation.
Her chair squeaked as she jerked it backward, her heart thudding in her chest. This wasn't in the game. This wasn't a bug or a visual glitch.
This was real.
She rubbed her eyes furiously, like maybe she could just blink the weirdness away. But the text stayed. Hovering. Calm. Patient. Like it knew something she didn't, and wasn't in a hurry to explain.
[You have been chosen, Threadweaver. Please chose your class.]
"Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope." She waved her hand at it again, more forceful this time. It didn't budge.
The radio droned on, blissfully unaware of the cosmic-level nonsense unfolding in her apartment.
Jana's cheerful voice returned. "Coming up next, a quick look at what's happening in Packard Park, and yes, folks, it's just as strange as it sounds..."
Zoe let out a groan, half-heartedly batting at the brackets one more time. They stayed.
'This is real.'
And Future Zoe?
Future Zoe was officially screwed.